Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 34941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
"Sorry," Noelle mutters and the hurt in her voice makes me wince. "I'm just worried."
I turn, leaning against the podium and crossing my arms. She looks adorable, with a light dusting of freckles on her cheeks and her glasses a little askew. All I can think about is pulling them off her face and kissing her, pushing her onto her knees, and sliding my cock into her mouth.
"Why are you worried?" I ask, my voice sounding hoarse even to my own ears.
Noelle's voice is small. "It's the essay. I finished it, but I was hoping you could read it over for me before I submit it. Give me some pointers if there's anything glaring I should fix. I need to get as close to a perfect grade as possible."
I figured as much. We are careening towards the exact same situation we were in earlier this week—Noelle and I alone in my office. And like a fool, I'm going to let it happen.
"If it's due tomorrow, I'll read it tonight. Bring it after 5 PM.”
Her face lights up, and the smile that spreads across her face makes the ache in my dick grow worse. "Great! Thank you!"
"Of course." I watch her turn and rush up the stairs, her little ass moving like it was made to jiggle for me.
Damn it.
I'm in trouble.
I've paced the length of the office at least a dozen times when Noelle's soft knock echoes through the room.
"Come in," I tell her, both anticipating seeing her and dreading how hard I'm going to have to hold myself back. She enters just as hesitantly as before, a small smile on her face when she sees me. She's still dressed in that damn tight yoga outfit, the long sleeves of the shirt doing basically nothing to hide her figure.
"Thank you for seeing me again." She makes a beeline right for the couch where we sat before, shuffling through her bag and pulling out a familiar stack of papers. She clearly thinks we're going to pick right back up where we left off, but I had other plans to try and maintain some distance between us.
Noelle waits for me, looking up, face bright. I give one last dejected look at the desk and computer chair where I hoped to host her and resign myself to sitting on the couch next to Noelle Henry—the cause of all my fantasies and woes.
Just like before, she smells like apples and a warm summer day. Everything about her radiates life and my urge to pull her to me and breathe every bit of her in is almost overwhelming. I flex the muscles of my legs hard to keep the blood flow where it needs to be and not in the one place I don't want it.
"Here." She hands me her essay, brimming with excitement. "I trimmed it down like you said. I know you're the one giving me the grade and it isn't exactly ethical for you to be the one giving me pointers, so I really appreciate it."
I settle in to read, leaning back against the couch, Noelle hovering over me as I do so. I know she's reading along, second-guessing these words she's probably read 1,000 times already, but with each sentence, I become more and more sure that her worry is misplaced.
It's an excellent paper. She took direction perfectly, and everything was succinct and to the point. Noelle's writing is clear and concise without being stilted. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips. It might have been at the very last minute, but she pulled it off.
"This is great, Noelle," I tell her, looking up. The joy on her face at the compliment is obvious, and it makes my heart slam against my ribcage.
"Really?"
"Really." I nod. "It's well-written and clear, and you managed to hit the requirements on all fronts. There are some small things here and there, but overall, it's fantastic."
"Thank you." Her body relaxes as she sits back, and the movement draws my attention to the way the yoga pants hug the curves of her thighs.
I swallow and look away, handing her back the essay. "You don't need my help, Noelle. I don't think I have anything else to offer."
"Nathan." Noelle reaches out and places her hand on my thigh, making me jump. The heat from her palm sinks through my slacks, and I swear I can feel every square inch of it. "I don't know how I can ever thank you."
The tension that had briefly faded returns in a flash, and it feels like a rubber band is being stretched between us.
"You don't have to thank me, Noelle," I assure her, looking down at her hand, the way it rests on my leg, and I fight the urge to move it up. "I'm here to help, and your essay was good. It needed some trimming, but that was it. You didn't need any guidance."