She ignores me the whole way to the student center. She might be mad, but the expression on her face when she saw me standing in front of her? That can't be disguised as anger.

That was definite lust.

The locker room thing was juvenile, for sure. But I can't help riling her up. It's so much fun to watch her squirm.

I'd just rather she be naked when she does it.

Inside the room, I toss my bag on the ground and flop down into the seat across from her. She pointedly ignores me for, like, ten minutes straight, and we sit in silence. It's like a game of chicken to see which of us caves first.

I finally do, which is my version of an apology. "If you want to just sit there staring at me, I can undress again."

Cassie rolls her eyes hard, then asks, "How did your English exam go?"

Her voice is crisp and businesslike, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened between us.

As if I didn't show up to her apartment with a cock bouquet.

As if she didn't totally send me a pussy to jerk off with. Hello, obvious signal there.

As if I didn't just watch her stare at my dick in the locker room.

As if she's not sitting across from me in a sleeveless form-fitting button-down shirt that displays the top of her cleavage. And a skirt that makes her ass look fucking fantastic. I should know, because I watched it enough on the way over here.

"Are we going to keep up this charade?" I ask.

She avoids eye contact, pulling a notebook out of her bag. She already has a notebook on the table. "I thought you didn't use big words."

"You were checking me out in the locker room."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she spits back, opening her laptop. Her fingers are moving, clicking on something, but I don't think she's looking at anything.

"I'm talking about the fact that your eyes were glued to me," I say. "If you want, I can take these pants off and remind you what you were looking at."

"Thanks, but I had a late lunch. I'm hoping not to vomit it up today."

"You should eat something to settle your stomach," I suggest. "I hear candy penises are good for that. The real thing is much better.”

She narrows her eyes as she looks at me. "How did you do on your exam?"

"Why are you avoiding answering my question?" I ask.

"You're avoiding telling me how you did," she answers, her voice professional.

"First, admit you were checking me out, and then I'll tell you how I did on my exam," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

She rolls her eyes. "You're delusional if you think I was checking you out." But her cheeks flush pink and she bites the corner of her lip, the thing she seems to do when she's uncomfortable. Or turned on, I think. It's her tell. She'd be a terrible poker player.

God, I love watching her try to lie.

"You're the world's worst liar," I say. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of red.

"I'm not lying," she insists.

"Yes you are." I stand up and cross to the side of the table, closer to her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm coming over here because I want a closer look," I say, my voice thick.

"To see if I'm lying? That's ridiculous."

"Sure, that too."

The flush on her cheeks isn't going away.

She stands up. I think she might be about to kick me out of here for being exceedingly inappropriate. Or kick me right in the balls.

It's worth the risk.

She smooths the part of her skirt that had bunched up when she was sitting down. But I liked it before she started pulling it down, the way it exposed her perfect thighs.

Thighs I'd love to feel squeezing my head.

"Don't do that," I say.

Standing up has the effect of putting her inches away from me, but I don't step back from her. "Don't do what?" she asks.

"Pull down the skirt. I like your legs. I like the skirt. I'd like it even better if it were up around your waist."

"You can't say that," she says, except her gaze doesn't leave mine, and she doesn't move. She could move around me if she wanted to. There's enough space in here for her to simply walk away.

If she wanted to.

What she couldn't hide, even if she'd wanted to, was that sharp intake of breath she took before she spoke.

"I can't say what?" I ask. I can smell her light perfume, something floral and sweet.

My cock twitches at the scent. Fuck. My dick doesn't get hard at the smell of some girl's perfume. That's never happened before.

Except with her.

"You can't say... things like that," she says softly. Her voice is nearly a whisper, and she looks at me, her eyes pleading.

"I can't say that I'd like to slide that skirt up your thighs?" I ask, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. It's still an innocent gesture, something that can be excused as friendly. I haven't crossed a line with her yet that can't be uncrossed.

When I touch her, her eyes close lightly and her lips fall open. Fuck, she turns into my touch. This girl hasn't been touched in a long time, that much is obvious.

"No," she whispers. "You shouldn't say that."

"I shouldn't do a lot of things." I run my finger lightly across her cheek and down her jawline. "Like say that I'd like to pull that skirt up around your waist and sit you down in that chair and spread your legs."

My thumb reaches her mouth. She doesn't stop me when I touch her bottom lip. "Colton," she whispers.

"I want to spread your legs," I continue as she stands there unmoving, her eyes lightly closed and her face upturned to me. The image of her on her knees, my fantasy the other day, flashes into my head — and I have to shut it down. "I want to pull you down to the edge of the chair and touch my tongue to your wetness — slowly at first, just to taste your sweetness. Then I want to bury my face in you, licking your clit and fucking you with my tongue until you come with my head between your legs. I want to taste you as you come on my face."

"I..." she starts, but then she takes my thumb into her mouth, just the edge of it. Her eyes fly open as if the movement surprised even her — except that she moans.

It's soft, barely audible, but I hear it.

She fucking moaned.

I pull her to me forcefully, one hand at the nape of her neck, the other on the edge of her waist, and kiss her. I kiss the hell out of this girl. I kiss her like I've never kissed a girl before, like I know I'll never kiss a girl again.

Her tongue meets mine like it was made for me, a puzzle that fits. I should be scared as fuck at the thought of that, except I'm not. I'm too on fire to think about anything else except the fact that I'm kissing the hottest girl I've ever met. And she's kissing me back, her body melting against mine, moaning into my mouth. I pull her against my body, her hips grinding into my hardness. She grips me back, her body tightening on me as she feels my cock pressing against her.

When I finally pull my lips away, she doesn't step back. She stays where she is, her body flush against mine. Her breath is short and her lips are swollen red, the mark I've left on her.

"Colton, I... we..." Her voice trails off and she doesn't finish what she's going to say. We shouldn't do this. We're breaking the rules.

I know that's what she's going to say.

"I don't give a fuck about the rules, Cassie," I growl. "I want you."

"Do you always get everything you want?"

I reach for the first button on her shirt, the one that I've wanted to undo since the first time I saw her in one of these stupid, prim-and-proper shirts. And I really mean to just undo it. Like a civilized person. Except something happens when I touch it and the button just flies off, landing on the floor with a ping.

So I finish it. I pull open her shirt like a goddamn caveman, buttons scattering.

"Always," I answer, my hand cupping her breast. I slide a finger inside her bra, and she grinds her hips against me like a reflex, something she can't control. A whimper escapes her lips as her nipple hardens to my touch.

I want to see her nipples. I don't think I've ever wanted to see anything so bad in my life.

"Colton, this totally against the rules," she whispers as I unhook her bra.

"You sure?" I ask, palming her breast with one hand as I hold her against me with the other. My cock is throbbing its approval.

"No," she confesses, her voice breathy.

I bend down and flick my tongue lightly over her nipple. Her hands come to my head, and she grips me tightly against her breast. I cover her with my mouth, my tongue swirling around in circles as her breath gets shorter and shorter.

Hell, I think she might come just from this.

"No?" I ask, when I come up for breath.

She shakes her head and looks at me, her chest rising and falling quickly. "I could lose everything," she whispers. "I... don't want to lose everything."

I'm not sure whether she's talking about the tutoring position or her virginity. My cock presses against my zipper, so hard that I think it's going to explode, but then I look at her, standing here with her breath short and her shirt torn open, and I think about the fact that she's a virgin. In that split second, guilt washes over me.

I don't fuck virgins. I fuck girls who have lots of experience, girls who are just up for a good time. Casual sex is my game. I've craved Cassie since I first saw her. I already know that if I taste her once, I'm going to want more.

I only hesitate for a second, but she clears her throat, pulling the strap of her bra up onto her shoulder. "I…" she starts, her voice faltering. "This… um. I can't do this."

She hooks her bra and slides back into her shirt, holding the front closed with one hand.

"Your shirt," I say. "Shit. Hang on." I dig through my bag and grab a spare t-shirt. "I keep a change of clothes just in case."

"Just in case you rip off a girl's shirt?" she asks, taking it from me.

"Funny," I say. "That's the first time I've torn the buttons off a girl's shirt."

"Somehow, I doubt that," she mutters softly. "I'm going to look like I'm doing the walk of shame out of here. This t-shirt is huge."

The t-shirt hangs on her, far too large to fit her. Shit, I like the way she looks wearing it. I can see her lying on my bed in it.

“It fits perfectly,” I say.

She gives me a weird look as she ties the corner of the shirt into a knot, bunching up the material tightly around her waist. "I… should go. I… um, I'll see you later. Or next time. Maybe. I don't know."

Shit. Now she's talking like she doesn't want to tutor me anymore. Way to royally fuck things up, Colton.

She pauses with her hand on the doorknob, then turns to look at me. "You didn't tell me what you got on your test," she says.

"I got an A."

Cassie nods, an expression of something I can't place flitting across her face. She opens the door. "I see,” she says. “So you came to collect.”

"No, that's not it at all – " I start, but she holds her hand up.

"I should go."