“You think?” I sneered.
“You” —he laughed— “are not amused. And I don’t blame you. This game was hardly sporting. Our wits are too well matched and each of us underdressed for any chance at strategy. That said, I am very pleased to have bested you.”
“You don’t look merely pleased, Professor. You look positively insufferable.”
“You look radiant. Irritation agrees with you. Your eyes are flashing and your cheeks are flushed.” His dimples deepened, framing his smile. “I can’t wait to discover what else is flushed.”
“You are such a poor winner.” I laughed. “It’s bad form to rub your triumph in the loser’s face.”
“Then shall I let you rub it in mine?”
“That doesn’t even make sense, not really.”
“No, I know. I’m still a little drunk.”
“Oh God.” I hung my head in my hands. I was completely turned on. Drunk Professor was just as adorable as sober Professor and I definitely wanted to see where this ridiculous exchange might be going. But I’d also caught an unexpected case of the shys. Our lusty banter had gone back and forth for hours now, the buildup had been agonizing and some of my natural bravado was slipping away. How did this man always manage to unnerve me?
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “I’ll denude if you do too.”
“Oh, listen to the cheeky loser trying to negotiate terms after the fact. You’ve got some nerve.” He sat back in his chair and stretched, flexing his arms over his head. Muscles danced down the length of his arms, strong and hard and delicious.
I placed my laptop on the bed and stood up in front of it, adjusting the camera till my entire upper body was in view. I fluffed my hair with my fingers, starting at the nape of my neck, then walked my hands higher, raising my elbows so that the hem of my nightie started to creep, slowly, up. The Professor nearly fell off his chair.
“Now who’s cheating?” he said, his elbows propped up in front of the computer again.
“I play to win,” I said. “As far as I’m concerned that first round ended in a tie.” I raised my arms a little higher, my nightie quivering at the edge of my *, every movement of my arms teasing him with the barest peek of flesh.
The Professor squinted at the camera and leaned in close, his eyes laser focused on my dangerous hemline. He took off his glasses and sighed heavily. “Alright,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face before reseating his glasses. “You drive a hard bargain, Claremont, but I’ll acquiesce to your demands if it means I can share in the prize.”
“Excellent,” I said, throwing him my own brand of insufferable grin.
“There’s just one problem.”
“And what’s that?”
He placed his palms on the desk and rose until his hips filled my screen.
OH MY GOD.
The front of his pajamas were tented higher than a big top circus. I slapped a hand over my mouth to shut up the laughter that threatened to burst out of my lungs. I wanted to play this cool, to tease him for a little longer.
“Pinstripe pajama bottoms,” I said, biting back a giggle. “Very cute.” I stepped closer, to better appreciate the view. “Hey, Professor,” I said casually, “you might want to get your money back on those jammies, the pinstripes are a little wobbly.”
I heard him laugh, and then he turned to the side.
DOUBLE OMG.
For the first time since I’d seen him in the pool, I got another hint at what this man was packing in his pants, and dear god it was impressive.
“I don’t think they’re structurally sound, either,” I said, laughter stuttering through my words. “That main support beam looks good and solid but I don’t see anything in the way of secondary buttressing.” I had no idea where I was going with this metaphor but it was too late to divert the train now. I just wanted to add a little levity to what was a very sexy, very arousing but also potentially very silly situation. I mean where was this going? Cam-sex? What are we, teenagers?
No, but you are extremely horny, my brain said.
Go home, brain, I answered. You’re drunk.
No duh.
“Yeah, without some secondary supports,” I continued, “your whole structure is in danger of collapsing. I mean…”
The Professor hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his dark blue pinstripe pajamas and lowered them slowly. He slid the pants over the crest of his ass, and then down, down, until the waistband had cleared that fine geography and his pants were held up solely by the magnificent protrusion at the front of his body.
OMGOMGOMG