“You look delicious in your dress that leaves little to the imagination,” he says brushing his lips lightly over mine as he takes a finger and lightly skims over the cleavage at my neckline. Oh my god, my knees buckle as I look down embarrassed.
“Clarissa, get used to it,” he says pulling my chin up so I have to look into his killer ice blue eyes. The elevator doors open and he takes my hand and leads me down the expansive hallway to his unit. When we walk in I’m immediately impressed. It’s a large spacious living room, decorated impeccably for a wealthy bachelor. Neutral colors, masculine lines with a minimalist elegance. How can he afford this place on a Professor’s salary I wonder?
“You have a beautiful condo, it’s impeccably decorated,” I tell him appreciatively.
“My Mom is an interior designer and I just let her have a go at it,” he says off handedly. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Yes, that would be nice,” I reply.
“How about some white wine?” he offers.
“That sounds perfect.” I follow him into the kitchen and take in how incredibly neat his place is. He must be an OCD neat freak, so opposite of me. After he pours us both a glass, he heads into the living room.
“Come into the living room and make yourself comfortable.” I struggle with my inner voice and try to relax. Hopefully this wine will calm my nerves. Taking a deep breath, I sit down on the sofa.
“Clarissa, relax,” Grant coaxes me as he sits down and turns to face me.
“I’m trying to,” I admit candidly. Why does he unnerve me so?
“Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to happen,” he says reaching over and brushing my hair away from my face.
“That’s not very reassuring,” I say softly.
“It isn’t?” he says as more of a question.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe I want something to happen,” I whisper softly leaning towards him as he reads my body language and moves in to kiss me. My eyes close and his hands are touching me. One hand has a firm hold on the side of my face and the other is rubbing my thigh right up to the top of my too-short-for-sitting dress.
“You have amazing legs, actually your entire body is amazing,” he says, pulling away from the kiss as his eyes scan my body from head to toe, sending a rush of heat between my thighs that leaves me tingling.
“Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself,” I say, quietly.
“I’m making you dinner here tonight, I hope you don’t mind?”
“No, not at all, I’ve never had a man cook dinner for me,” I say with a twinkle in my eye.
“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I need to start boiling the water for the pasta.” Settling in on one of the barstools at the center island in the kitchen, I get to really check him out and I don’t have to worry about anyone catching me like when we’re on campus. His tush looks very delectable in his snug fitting jeans. His polo shirt is spread across his broad chest and biceps. You can tell he is in great shape. He definitely doesn’t look like your typical college professor. There’s a reason why his students are mostly of the female persuasion. He refills my wine glass and kisses me on the lips in the process.
“How did you get into teaching?” I ask him as he pours the hot pasta into the colander in the sink.
“It just sort of fell in my lap,” is all he offers.
“Do you enjoy it?” I ask.
“I do, actually. Writing has always been a passion of mine, so teaching English comes easily to me. Your initial essay was very good by the way, original thoughts presented in a unique voice. You are a talented writer. I’m looking forward to reading more of your work.”
“Why thank you, that means a lot to me coming from you Professor. You aren’t just stroking my ego?” I say suggestively.
“No, I really do mean it. I don’t ever give false praise,” he says piercing me with his eyes. I want to skip dinner and go straight to dessert. My panties are getting wetter by the minute just from watching him cook for me! Dinner is ready and the table is set. He lights some candles and dims the lights creating a very impressive romantic ambience.
“How often to you make dinner for college coeds Professor?” I ask, forgetting my manners.
“This is the first time Clarissa,” he replies in all seriousness.
“Why do I find that hard to believe? What makes me so special?” I really do find that hard to believe.
“I will be honest, I have no idea. In the two years I have been teaching I have never succumbed to any of the tempting coeds. All I know is that I felt drawn to you that very first day in class. It’s something in your eyes, your demeanor and your body language that spoke to me,” he says scrutinizing me. Yeah, my body language was saying use me no doubt, I think to myself. But I just pass him a knowing smile.
“Where did you grow up?” he asks.
“In Orange County, Corona Del Mar to be exact,” I offer.
“Near the beach, it’s nice down there behind the Orange Curtain,” he muses.
“How about you, where did you grow up?”
“Not far from here in Beverly Hills.”