Chapter Two
Sam
While going for a brisk evening swim hadn’t been on my list of things to do, at least it’d forced me out of my stupor. Who knew how long I would’ve stood there, imitating a fish as I’d gaped at Dean—Elliott. Shit, that was going to take some getting used to. For the past two months, he’d been Dean in my head, and now... Now, Dean—my Dean, the hot-as-sin man who visited me every morning at Bundt and Grind, who took his coffee with two sugars and the pinch of cinnamon I added as a special twist, who flirted and smiled and made my stomach flip and my panties wet—was...my dean. As in the dean of freaking students.
I blew out a sigh and glanced to my left where Dean—Elliott—stalked next to me, his jaw set in a hard line, his body radiating the tension between us. And not the overwhelming sexual tension that’d been cloaking us like a blanket over the past two months. If his body language was any indication, he was pissed. And I felt...stupid. How had I not known who he was?
As president of the student council, I’d been trying for six weeks to set up an appointment with the new dean and introduce myself. I’d played phone tag with his secretary for weeks on end only to find he wasn’t meeting with students until a full departmental review had been completed.
Now I was sort of wishing I’d found the time to at least swing by the administrative building and poke my head in his office. Maybe it would’ve helped alleviate this shock I was currently in. Though I doubted it. I wasn’t sure there’d ever be a good time to find out the guy you’d been flirting with for two months straight, the one who’d starred in all your naughty fantasies, the one you desperately wanted in your bed, was actually one of the highest authorities at Temperance Falls College where you attended...as a student.
I’d heard rumblings around campus about how young the new dean was. And how hot he was. And, God, that was the damn truth. I snuck another peek at him out of the corner of my eye as we walked toward the boathouse. Even drenched, he was gorgeous. His pale blue long-sleeved button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows, clung to him, the material nearly transparent. I could see the outline of every hard-earned muscle, could count each block of his well-defined abs—abs the last dean certainly hadn’t had. Dean Winslow was nearing sixty and had gray hairs sprouting out of his ears and nose. Dean Goodridge? Not a gray hair in sight, just lush black locks, currently dripping with the icy late-April lake water.
I turned away, forcing myself to face forward, lest I launch myself at him in a fit of sexual frustration. We continued our trek in silence, the space between the docks and the boathouse never feeling so far.
“It’s just over here,” I said, unsure how to talk to him. We’d always had an ease between us, conversation coming unhindered, but it was different now...awkward. Mere hours ago, I’d been giddy over our interaction, noticing how he’d pushed a little more each day. I’d always looked forward to his visits on the days I’d been working, had come to crave our interactions, however brief. There was no doubt we were attracted to each other—he’d made that much clear from day one in the little things he’d say, his subtle touches and looks. He’d always been overly flirtatious with me, and at first I’d chalked it up to his personality, but he never did that with any of my coworkers. Just me.
But here we were, miles away from where we’d been earlier in Bundt and Grind. Where I’d been so sure he was close to actually asking me out. Finally, after I’d spent so long sending out every signal I could think of. And now? The thought was laughable.
We reached the boathouse, and Elliott walked ahead, trying to turn the knob. “Damn, it’s locked.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got the code.” I stepped up next to him, so close I could feel his body heat against my chilled skin. A shiver worked its way through my body as I entered the code on the keypad with shaky fingers, then turned the knob when the green light flashed.
“Is that another Temperance Falls secret everyone else is privy to but me?”
“Not quite.” I blindly felt around for the light switches, flipping the one closest to me and lighting only two of the recessed lights in the ceiling. That was fine. We didn’t need to illuminate the whole space, considering the wall of windows at the front. I made my way to the built-in cabinets along the far wall and pulled out a couple sweatshirts and pairs of sweatpants bearing the marina’s logo. “My parents own the marina. I get special privileges.”
“Of course they do.”
The acid in his tone had my head snapping around to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed, running his hands through his wet hair before dropping his arms. “Not what you think. It’s just been a long night and now I’m standing here...” He looked me up and down, the trail his eyes took making me shiver as sure as if it’d been his fingers caressing me. “Wet,” he finished, voice rough.
I clutched the clothing to my chest, trying to remind myself that this was my dean and I shouldn’t be noticing things... Things like how it wasn’t just his shirt that was plastered to the front of him, but also his pants. They clung to every inch of him, and if my eyes weren’t lying, there were a lot of inches tucked away down there.
Swallowing, I lifted my eyes to his, hoping he hadn’t noticed me eye-fucking him. “Believe me, you’re not the only one who’s wet.”
Oh Jesus. I cringed, only barely refraining from slapping a palm to my forehead.
He groaned, low and deep, then tried to cover it with a cough. “Clothes. Let’s get into these dry clothes, then we can talk.”
I walked over to him, only as far as necessary to hand over the sweats. Any closer, and there was no telling what I’d do, but I was pretty sure leaping into his arms and grinding my pussy against what he was packing wasn’t appropriate behavior for a student and her dean. “Here. The bathroom’s the second door on the left.”
While he disappeared into the men’s bathroom, I slipped into the women’s across the hall. Placing the dry clothing on a shelf by the sinks, I glanced up to catch my reflection in the mirror, gasping at what I found. The hard points of my nipples strained against my white polo, the material clinging to me much the same way as I’d admired on Elliott. No wonder he’d looked so uncomfortable out there. I’d practically been flashing him the girls, and he’d had no choice but to stand there, attempting to look anywhere else.
With a sigh, I peeled my wet clothes from my body and changed into the sweatpants and sweatshirt, grateful they were a couple sizes too big to hopefully disguise the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra. Or panties. Every article of clothing I’d worn was drenched, dripping on the floor, and I did my best to squeeze out the excess water as I pumped myself up to face Elliott again.
“Sorry,” I called out as I walked out of the bathroom, looking down while I rolled up the sleeves of my sweatshirt, “it must’ve been awkward—”
I dropped my wet clothing to the floor as I face-planted straight into a wall. No, wait. Not a wall. A man.
Elliott let out a soft “oof” before dropping his own clothes, his arms coming up to steady me. “Whoa, you okay?”
“Mmm.” Inappropriate, Sam. No, it was not okay to take a deep breath against your dean’s chest, inhaling his fresh, clean scent. Also not okay? Noticing the tight bunch of the muscles under the material of his sweatshirt as he gripped me.
“What’s awkward?” he asked.
I lifted my head, taking in the breadth of his broad shoulders, his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. A shadow of scruff covered the sharp angle of his jaw, and I momentarily wondered what that’d feel like against my neck. Only momentarily, because then my eyes traveled up to his plush lips, parted slightly, and those were what I really wanted to feel against my neck. Or my thighs.
“Sam?”
I finished my trek, landing on his beautiful eyes. They were the color of the ocean off some faraway, uninhabited island—the kind of blue I would swear couldn’t be real if I weren’t looking into them. “Hmm?”
He slid his hands down my arms, encased in the oversize sleeves of my sweatshirt, and I’d never been more resentful toward a piece of fabric than I was in that moment. I wanted to feel his hands on my bare skin, no matter how chaste the touch. “You were saying something about awkward.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I tore myself away from his gaze and glanced down, gesturing toward my breasts. “My shirt was see-through. I didn’t realize I was starring in a one-woman wet T-shirt contest all the way over here.”
His jaw ticked. Once, twice. Then he cleared his throat. “If it helps, I didn’t see anything.” With one last brush down my arms, he stepped back, then reached to pick up our wet clothes from the floor, handing mine back to me.
Well, damn. While I hadn’t specifically set out to show him my breasts, I couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that he didn’t get a peek. Though, really, what did I think was going to happen? He’d be so turned on by my unintended peep show, he’d throw me down on the floor and have his way with me in my family’s boathouse?
I led us out into the main room, heading toward the back of the space, far enough away from the front windows to stay a bit hidden. “That’s probably better...considering.”
“Considering.” He dropped his clothes on a table, then leaned against the back of one of the leather couches, arms crossed against his chest. “So you’re Samantha Monroe, commodore of the Temperance Falls College sailing team.”
I set my clothes on the counter at my back. “And Samantha Monroe, president of the student council. Yes.”
He blew out a deep breath, running his hand through his hair again. “Jesus, Sam.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were...” I shook my head. “Why’d you tell me your name was Dean?”
Head jerking back, he stared at me, mouth agape. “I didn’t.”
I laughed, leaning against the counter. “Well, I didn’t pull Dean out of my ass. And you never said anything every time I’ve called you it.”
“I thought you were flirting, calling me dean as in my job. I’m Dean Goodridge. Even your father has been calling me that all night.” His forehead bunched, his brow creasing as he glanced down. “I may have been in work mode that first day. Moving here was a lot to deal with.”
“Oh my God.” I closed my eyes, resting a hand over them. Feeling like a fucking idiot. Especially when I thought of all the times I’d heard the whispered rumblings of people in the coffee shop mentioning Dean. They weren’t saying it as his name, but his title. “The sexual tension between us obviously zapped some of my brain cells.” I cringed and dropped my hand, remembering too late that was totally inappropriate. “Shit, I’m sorry. I can’t say things like that anymore.”
He nodded stiffly, hesitantly. “I’d like you to, but...” Blowing out a deep breath, he lifted a shoulder. “You’re my student.”
“Only for another month, if that helps...” I laughed, hoping to dissipate the heaviness hanging between us.
He ran both hands through his hair, resting them at the back of his head. “I don’t know what to do here, Sam.”
The sweatshirt did nothing to dissuade me from glancing to his arms, the material tight against his bunching biceps. Without permission, my eyes trailed down the length of his body, stuttering to a stop at the sliver of skin peeking out from the waistband of his sweatpants hanging indecently low on his hips. So low, there was no way he was wearing underwear with them. Guess I wasn’t the only one who’d been soaked through.
I bit my lip as I stared, the cut of his hips and that faint trail of hair below his belly button drawing my gaze even lower. And soaked wasn’t even enough to describe me now. Never before had a man gotten me so worked up just from...breathing. He was beautiful, and I wanted desperately to feel him against me, over me...inside me.
But we couldn’t.
“There’s not much we can do...” I whispered, lifting my eyes to stare at his lips. His face somehow closer than it’d been a minute before. Had I moved? Or had he? “Right?”
“Right.” His voice washed over me, low and deep and so rough. He took another step, bringing us near enough that if he spoke now, I’d feel it against my lips.
My nipples tightened under the sweatshirt, rubbing teasingly against the material. “We’d be doing the responsible thing if we walked out this door. Alone.”
Reaching forward, he encircled my wrist in his fingers, his thumb brushing back and forth along the underside, tugging me until I was pressed against him. “I’m always responsible.”
I stared at his lips, so close to me every exhale fanned across my face. So close every inch of him pressed against me. So close...
“Me too,” I whispered right before I threw my arms around him and crushed my lips to his.