Let Me Adore You (N.H.)

21

Deep in thoughts I stared at his lips, touching his tensed arm and the skin his shirt didn't cover, ignoring his comment.

My professor didn't show any sort of reaction so I continued, gliding my fingers over and over his arm, not looking at him.

That was when I felt it. The goosebumps.

"Are you cold darling?" I asked, innocently even though we both knew it was way to warm in this room.

Niall looked down on me, expression unreadable. As always.

He took a second before he began to speak.

"No. Just my hands." To prove his point, he grabbed my hand, probably to stop me from touching him.

I kept myself from smiling, nodding a bit and moving my fingers away from his grip.

"I understand. Maybe you should warm them up."

I took his right hand with which he held mine before, moving it to my hips, placing it there and sliding it under the hem of my sweater so that he could feel my hot skin.

He almost instantly pressed his thumb on my last rib, putting his left hand on my other waist, this time over my clothing.

My lips ghosted over his cheeks, down to his jaw where I finally kissed him, slowly.

His breath fanned over my neck.

And just when his lips searched mine for relief, I broke the contact, stepping away from him.

"I need to use your bathroom. May I?"

I asked in a normal tone, disguising my shaking hands. But Niall didn't look any better. He opened his eyes a bit more, his hands sinking back and his mouth closed.

He didn't answer, only showing towards the door.

Nodding, I turned around, leaving him be.

My professor however followed me and the moment I had opened the door and looked back at him, he held out a small item.

I took it wordlessly, confused by the form of the little bundle.

"Put it on." He watched my furrowed brows when I unfolded it.

"Or don't."

It was a pair of long boxershorts.

I was about to thank him when he was already at the end of the hall, standing on the first step.

"I don't wear pajamas. That does the job too." Niall pointed at the fabric in my palms.

It was grey. And checkered.

A bit ironic wasn't it?

I bit back a snarky comment, letting out a small hum before I walked inside the bathroom.

Closing the door quietly behind me, I dropped his boxer shorts mindlessly on the ground and leaned over the sink, making cold water run over my fingers. After a while I was scrubbing them harshly, cleaning them off for at least two minutes until I was satisfied. The skin was red and hot, there was no visible dirt on them but I still felt the need to keep scrubbing them. Not giving into that compulsion took a lot of strength.

I reached for one of the little towels next to the mirror to dry my hands, putting them on my cheeks after I sat down on the toilet lid to distract myself.

I exhaled and closed my eyes, hoping to calm down and get a clear mind.

But I couldn't collect my thoughts, it was one big chaos at first and then I thought nothing. It was all blank.