Plus One

25: Tasting chocolate

25: Tasting chocolate

“Hold on a minute, Cassie. I believe I just inhaled an entire chocolate croissant in under thirty seconds.”

“Are you legitimately trying to scare me off with the taste of chocolate?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

The professor let his eyes close for a brief second, his breath catching in his throat as autumn wind scratched at the classroom door. The whisper of its howling whistle faded between spells of footsteps and voices passing by. Adrian looked at me, any embarrassment masked by his confident expression; he matched my transparent intentions with a smile, and I took a step closer. Being forward had never been my weakness; once I knew the relationship wasn’t one-sided, I gave the other person the benefit of the doubt that he wanted what I wanted. Adrian knew he could stop me, pull away from where my fingers played with the sleeve of his jacket, but he stayed close.

To the credit of my own recklessness, I didn’t really make the first move: the final sweeping motion that locked us together had been Adrian’s. But at that point, the tiring game of who started what wasn’t worth playing. The first days of dating are as much a test of physical compatibility as they are of whether or not the couple can get along. I didn’t believe that kissing and sex should ever form the base of a relationship, but the idea that they detracted from its purity never resonated with me. If hooking up too much and touching too often was a crime, then why—with the right person—did it feel so good? Instincts didn’t exist to be ignored.

And so I kissed Adrian, and let myself grip at his neck while our lips danced in desire. I’d been right: the warm, sultry taste of melted chocolate leapt from tongue to tongue, compounded by the spicy kick of coffee. His hands moved from my back up into my hair, leaving pricks of pleasure wherever his fingers got caught. I strained to bring myself closer—breathing life into the fire of our kiss with every quiet moan.

Somehow, we’d twirled to his desk, and so with a brief glance to calculate our location, I pushed the doctor carefully backwards into his chair. Caught in the moment, Adrian laughed wickedly and pulled me over him, hooking my legs beside him with feverish, tender touches. I’d missed it: the irreplaceable exhilaration of someone’s body swirling into my own—and not just a someone met in a musty bar. I’d missed the strikes of electric heat burning fervent lust into every movement. I’d missed the youthful excitement of believing that life ceased to exist outside of one kiss, and how all that truly mattered was breathing marred by intimacy.

Adrian’s fingers wove back into my tangled hair, and he pulled it downwards with urgent impatience. Submitting to the suggestion, I closed my eyes and leaned my head back as his kiss moved away from my lips—across my cheek, behind my ear, down to the base of my neck. Biting back a quiet sigh, I let myself revel in hot, fluid lips against my collarbone and tightened my hold on the professor’s now-wrinkled shirt. 

“This isn’t fair,” he murmured in my ear, his hand sliding up my leg.

I shivered, and pressed my cheek to his hair, “Oh?”

“The last thing I’m compelled to do is deal with students.”

“What are you compelled to do, then?”

He chuckled deeply and brushed his lips against the line of my jaw. “We haven’t been dating for twenty-four hours. If I reveal everything now, there won’t be much left to promise you later.”

“Promise whatever you want, Doctor, as long as you intend on keeping them.” I grinned and dove forward for another kiss. Sensual and deep, it drew a pair of sighs from us both. “I think I’d love to hear you talk dirty, anyway.”