“Maybe I’m a weirdo, but sex with a stranger Turns. Me. On.” Every last word was emphasized in a low, feral hiss. “The idea that I could find someone, know nothing about them, have the hottest sex ever, and then vanish. That really excites me.” Tamara shrugged and ran her fingers around the loose collar of her oversized shirt. Hot as she was, the girl had some issues she needed to work through. But unless Tamara asked, he wasn’t about to start psychoanalyzing a lover. Danger zone.
“There’re apps for that, you know?” Maxwell played along, looking over his shoulder to be sure no one had joined them on the path.
“Oh, I know.” Tamara lifted her chin like she could teach her 8 a.m. course on Tinder. Of course she knew. If she knew holemate, she was likely a founding member. “But try as I may…” she paused, put a hand on her hip, and waited for him to stop and lean in, knowing he would. When he finally did, her words were hot and wet in his ear. “None of those little boys have ever fucked me half as good as you do.”
His body stiffened against her words. So close to campus, they were surely busted. Even if they were whispered, words like fuck had a way of echoing where they shouldn’t. His eyes darted side to side. Relief washed over him. Before Maxwell gathered his thoughts to respond, she was gone—halfway across the quad and not looking back.
Such a fucking tease.
Chapter 13
Talia
Want to grab lunch and we can go over it?
Those were his exact words. Right?
Peering into her tote at the frayed Velcro closure of an insulated lunch box, she wondered. Did grab mean they’d go to a café? Order something there? She always brought lunch to campus. Inside the little bag, the peanut butter sandwich and apple she’d packed the night before were ice-cold. Just how she liked them.
When a faint but distinct nuttiness found her nostrils, she quickly closed the tote and bit her bottom lip. Smooth. Definitely smooth. Last night’s conversation came back to her and she didn’t stop the involuntary chuckle from shaking her shoulders.
It was one of those things that seemed determined not to be ignored in life. Those texts sexts weren’t intended for her. They also couldn’t be forgotten. By midnight last night, she’d read the misguided messages so many times they were branded on her brain. And try as she may, the image of Maxwell being on the other end wasn’t something she could unimagine, either. So, she went with it. Which made grabbing lunch with him slightly unnerving.
What if he could tell?
No. She reassured herself. That wasn’t possible. He was a professional who probably still saw her as a kid. Okay, maybe a teenager, given yesterday’s meeting. But still. Off-limits. And out of bounds. Clothes alone could not turn her into the sensual-art-teacher type he seemed to go for. She leaned away from the bench.
Creamy.
The thought popped back into her mind when she took out Fear of Flying and placed it on the bench beside herself. The psychology building’s brick façade cast a shadow over half its cover. With birds chirping in the trees and a gentle breeze sifting through their leaves, it was easy to get lost in her thoughts. Beautiful days always did that to her. Though her thoughts weren’t usually centered around sandwich spreads and Maxwell and things.
The implication was that the peanut butter would be licked off the…thing, right? While she certainly didn’t have a PhD in sex, she had some experience. And crunchy, well, that didn’t make much sense. It would hurt, right?
Laughing at herself, she pulled out her phone and started a text chain to Doris and Emily.
TALIA: Asking for a friend—is *crunchy* really a thing bc it seems like it would scratch his thing?
Last night was fun. Even if it was just the three of them. Talia had never left a book club feeling liberated, but Isadora’s story and her friends’ discussion had encouraged her to get out of the damn box. So, what was she waiting for?
EMILY: Never tried it. I’m a Reddi-wip girl…
DORIS: sticky dick, sticky dick, sticky dick…scratchy dick
They weren’t much help. She put her phone back and picked up her book. Casting a casual glance around to see if anyone was looking, she raised the book in front of her with one hand and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her silk blouse with the other. Next, she brushed her hair back and refolded the collar, exposing a hint of clavicle and the dip beside it.
“There you are.” The voice came from behind her. Blushing at the thought of being caught, she was relieved when she noticed he was on his phone. He waved the silver device in his hand. “I was just about to send you a message.”
“Oh, I finished up early and thought I’d enjoy the weather while I waited.”
“I hope you haven’t been here long.” Maxwell sat on the bench’s far end, looking up into the tree branches and drinking it in. “What a gorgeous day.”
“Time is never wasted with a good book in hand.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized what was about to happen. In slow motion, Maxwell’s head turned away from the branches and directly to the book in her hand. She tried uselessly to cover it.
A sly grin teased the sides of his mouth.
“That is a good book.” His lips pursed, and the air between them turned thick. At least for Talia, who had imagined his lips in that very position, it did. “Fifty Shades for your mother’s generation.”
Talia blanched and sucked in what little air she could.
“That’s exactly what my friend Doris said.” Talia tucked her hair behind her ear and fought the damp heat collecting on the back of her neck.
“I know that name.”
Talia nodded. “She’s in one of your classes. This book was her idea.”
“Doris…” He thought. “Doris Morris, right?”
Talia nodded and chuckled. Doris absolutely hated her name.
“Good for her. What are your thoughts of Isadora so far?” Maxwell pulled an orange from his pocket and started to peel the skin away. She’d never noticed his hands before. How perfectly his trim nails squared off at the edges. Or the way the smooth flesh tightened and wrinkled when his knuckles worked, exposing the lines of muscle and sinew snaking into his wrist. What was it about a man’s hands?
Her belly started to whirl again. She needed to refocus her thoughts.
“I feel sorry for Isadora. She’s a maverick in her world to a degree. But…” Talia trailed off.
“Keep going, I’m listening,” Maxwell’s attention lifted from the fruit to her, offering a brief smile, and then drifted back.