For her safety, and my sanity.
“Please—” I half-turn and gesture at my truck. “Let me take you where you need to be. I can’t stand the thought of you driving around in this weather. Not with these idiots on the road.”
Her lips twitch, and her eyebrows draw together. She balances on the bike again, a second away from peddling off. “What about your meeting?”
Rain starts trickling down the back of my jacket. “I’ll call ahead, tell her I’ll be late.” I flick my head, sending rain-slicked hair off my forehead. I step back, gesturing at her. If I had fucking candy, and knew she had a sweet tooth, I swear I’d be using that to lure her into my truck.
But the rain is insistent enough, cold enough, wet enough that it’s all Charlotte needs to make up her mind.
“You’re a life saver,” she says, flashing me a rare smile.
I can already feel her skin against mine. Wet from the rain, wet from something else entirely. My cock twitches, woken from its slumber by that brief, erotic thought.
“Don’t mention it,” I say as I reach for her bike’s handlebars.
She freezes, but then dips her head and lifts her hand away so I can take the bike and wheel it to my truck.
I love that shy look. Her hair’s too wet now, but when it’s dry and she ducks her chin like that, a black curtain falls in front of her face. Every time she does it, I have to stop myself going over and smoothing those raven locks away from her face.
That would raise too many questions. If there’s one thing I’ve learned all these years, it’s how to avoid raising suspicion.
By the time I’ve secured her bike in the back of my truck and slid into the driver’s seat, I’m just as wet as Charlotte. She throws me another shy glance from the passenger seat as I twist to the side to put on my seatbelt.
“Thanks again,” she murmurs, and then scoops wet hair from her face and twists it into a knot at the base of her neck.
“What kind of gentleman would I be if I ignored a woman in distress?”
She lets out a huff, but the corner of her mouth is curling up. We sit for a second, rain drumming on the roof of my car. I’d have let the moment go on for eternity if it meant I could keep breathing the same air as her, but it’s too soon. I have to keep up appearances. I’m her teacher, not her lover.
But I could be.
I want to be.
I clear my throat. “So, I could try and guess where you live, but then you might not get home in time for supper. What would your boyfriend say?”
She jumps a little and then laughs. “God, sorry.” She points. “You can make a left two blocks down.”
“Sure thing.” I make sure my voice is cheery even though I’m far from happy. This shitty neighborhood gets the worse the further west you go, and if she’s going where I think she’s going…
“So, uh, have you seen me before?” Her voice is soft, almost meek. For a second, I wonder if that’s how she always was, or if this is the new her. Trauma changes people in so many ways.
“Yes, of course. You were in my class an hour ago.”
She laughs again, louder this time. “No, I mean—” She cuts off. “When you’re meeting your patient.”
“Who, Sally?” I purse my lips like I’m thinking. “Yeah, come to mention it. I think I might have seen you once or twice.”
She nods, satisfied, and bunches her hands in her lap. We’re barely more than two feet apart, but that just reminds me how much closer we were earlier today.
I shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have entered her personal space like that. Not just because anyone could have noticed and found it strange, but because of who she is. What she’s been through.
There are many things I shouldn’t have done. But I’m not perfect. No one is. Everyone makes mistakes.
Like the one I’m planning to make with Charlotte.
It could cost me everything. My position at the college, my career…my life.
I’ve been trying to talk myself out of it for weeks already, with no success.
I want to see those small, pale hands trembling. I want them running down my belly only to wrap around my cock. I want to stare into Charlotte’s sea-green eyes as she opens that pretty little mouth of hers so I can shove my cock down her throat.
I want it so bad, I’ve got a semi just thinking about it.
“Oh…uh…how did you know I live down this road?”
I blink, my mind scurrying to recall the last few minutes of the real world as I hastily shove away the image of young Charlotte moaning around my thick cock.
“You told me to turn right.”
“That was back there.” She turns in her seat, both hands on the cushion, and glances over her shoulder.
“Lucky guess,” I manage, schooling my face. With both windows closed, her smell is intense, intoxicating. My blood is singing in my veins, and it takes every molecule of discipline I have not to pull the car over and shove my hand between her legs.
Instead, I duck my head and scan the apartment blocks ahead. “I don’t think it will work a second time though. Where am I headed?” I try to stop it, but my jaw bunches as I reign myself in.
When I glance at her, her face looks carved from white marble. Then she blinks, her lips parting and tongue darting out to wet them.
Jesus Christ, if she knew how close I was to—
“That one,” she says quickly, pointing past my shoulder.
Chapter Three
Charlotte
The Sizzling Griddle diner is always packed on a Friday night, but it’s the closest decent restaurant to my apartment. Here, I can order a cheeseburger and chips and not feel like I’m consuming half a gallon of
