Wanting

...Heat. So much heat…

It spread over Jeremy like warm maple syrup, gliding across his skin, creeping through his veins, swirling in a slow, smoldering boil at his core, and taking him someplace sweet and hot and more delicious than he’d ever imagined.

And he’d always thought he had a pretty good imagination.

His hips rose in restless thrusts, begging for more. His fingers, clawing out at his sides, curled into the sheets in a tight grip. He bit his lower lip to keep from making noise and giving away how deeply he was being affected by what was happening, but it did no good. A low, throaty moan that sounded like nothing he’d ever heard coming from himself before—primal and uninhibited—escaped him.

In response, firm but gentle hands squeezed his thighs, then pushed them up and farther apart, exposing him more fully. Jeremy had a fleeting thought that maybe he should be embarrassed or uncomfortable about it, but the sensations at his groin intensified, stealing the thought before it was even fully formed. Fingertips stroked his balls, then beneath them, skating over sensitive skin in a place that had never known a lover’s touch until now.

The wet suctioning around his shaft built into an inferno that became almost unbearable. He did bear it, though, would gladly bear it and so much more. He realized he’d never wanted anything more desperately than what was happening right here and now.

Another moan slid from him, a husky, wordless plea that meant, “Oh, God, please don’t stop.”

In a half-stupor from desire, he lifted his head from the pillow and looked down.

The sight of full lips curved around his dick, and his dick, wet and slick, sliding into the depths of the sensual mouth, stole his breath. He’d never seen anything so erotic.

But it was the blue eyes, the color of a cloudless summer sky, gazing up at him with such intensity that left him reeling. Blue eyes that were achingly familiar, yet filled with new and unexpected emotion he’d never seen in them before.

Jeremy felt himself swallowing hard, and something tight caught in his chest.

Is this really happening?

Oh, yeah, his body assured him. It’s real. It’s definitely real…

“Mr. Reynolds!”

The sharp voice jerked Jeremy back to the here and now with a jolt. He blinked and gazed up to the front of the lecture hall, to find Professor Ivanik glaring at him beneath dark, heavy slashes of eyebrows.

No one in the room made a sound or even looked in Jeremy’s direction for fear of drawing the professor’s wrath down on themselves. But Jeremy’s face burned in humiliation nonetheless. He glanced down, realizing his cell phone was in his hand and open. How the hell had the professor noticed it? Jeremy was only one student in a class of fifty.

Ivanik had a history of being a hard-assed S.O.B., though, with a whole list of classroom rules, one of which was no cell phones out or on during his lectures. With his snake-like dark eyes that condemned more often than praised, the man didn’t miss much. Unfortunately. He’d reamed students a new one for far less than using a phone in class. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of one of his tongue-lashings.

Jeremy quickly snapped the phone shut and cradled it in his palm. “I wasn’t—” At the sight of those thick, accusing brows shooting up another notch, daring him to continue at his own risk, he cut himself off. “Sorry.”

“As you should be. There are people in this class who, during this hour, are committed to reviewing the material that will be on the final exam in two days. Unless you are already an expert on international business management, I suggest you make sure you’re one of them. That is if you plan to pass this class, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeremy mumbled.

Fuck!...