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Brock
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Brock had never been so reluctant to leave his house and head to the university the next morning. Not only had he had a very long, very sexy night with Camilla, but he found himself cringing at the thought of having to leave her there to take care of Rynn without him while he taught his morning class. Of course, it had to be a day where he taught two classes, one in the morning and one in the afternoon as well.
That only made him groan louder.
Brock loved his job as a professor, and he loved being able to teach his students about the greats amongst the world of English literature.
He found out last night that he also loved having Camilla under him, too. Under his body, under his tongue, everything.
But he was the one that was under her spell. Camilla captivated him like no other. There was no other reason he would have spent the previous day aching for her, having to rush home and take her the way he did. He hadn’t felt that kind of intimate pull from someone else in a long time.
He recognized it, though. And he couldn’t wait to re-enact last night’s steamy antics again tonight. Which was exactly why he didn’t want to leave the house that morning—he didn’t want to have to wait to have her again.
But, once again, they had to be responsible adults. He also wasn’t sure how to explain it to Rynn just yet, or if it was too soon to try to do that. Camilla was just as willing to make his daughter believe she’d arrived early, before Rynn had gotten out of bed, and they’d been careful to make sure the little girl hadn’t seen Camilla come out of Brock’s bedroom.
His classes at the university went by at a snail’s pace. He followed the curriculum set out for him, and he answered questions from the class both efficiently and expertly, but every time he let his eyes lower to the screensaver on his cellphone which showed a clock, he had to stifle the groan that threatened to bubble up in his throat.
The waiting was excruciating. His body was already buzzing with the wanting Camilla had left him with that morning, the desire that coursed through him and seared his veins from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes. The throbbing of his dick only seemed to escalate as flashes of vivid mental images from the night before attacked his mind.
A snapshot of Camilla’s splayed thighs. An audible clip of her moaning out his name desperately that sounded so real he was sure other people heard it, too. The ghost of sensual pressure on his lips, like he could still feel the warmth of hers as they melded together in passionate perfection.
Good God, he had to get the hell home to her as soon as he could.
***
By the time he made it through the front door of his house, he was so turned on by the intoxicating thoughts of Camilla that plagued his mind that he half-hoped Rynn had fallen asleep early, just so he could alleviate some of the intense desire that was causing his balls to ache so damn bad.
Half-hoped. He had spent the entire day away from his daughter, and those were the days that his heart ached to see her once five o’clock rolled around. Nothing could beat hearing an exuberant four-year-old jabber on about her day, even if that day was filled with mostly imaginary things she’d played and games that included faraway castles and other make-believe creatures and people.
He could hear his daughter tittering about a prince and his white horse, telling someone to just wait because he would be there soon to save her from the evil queen. At least, that was what he thought she said. Sometimes, it was hard to tell with her jumbled words and slight lisp.
The one thing he could tell for sure was that Rynn wasn’t talking to Camilla. He could hear Camilla’s voice coming from the opposite direction. She was in the kitchen, he thought. A smile erupted on Brock’s lips when he mused that Camilla’s incessant jabbering sounded a lot like Rynn’s, only she wasn’t discussing princes on white horses or castles. There was also no mistaking that Camilla had prepared an amazing meal. The mix of delicious scents wafting out from the kitchen couldn’t be bought from a takeout place.
He kicked off his shoes and padded his way across the floor into the kitchen doorway. He wasn’t trying to be quiet, but obviously Camilla didn’t hear him. Her back was to him as she paced slowly near the patio door, her cellphone tucked against her ear. Her hands waved expressively as she spoke, something Brock noticed she did quite frequently.
“It’s temporary, sweetie,” she said, sounding exasperated. “It won’t last.”
Whatever the person on the other end of the phone said, it made Camilla shake her head vehemently despite the fact that no one could see her.
Well, she thought no one could see her.
Brock stood motionless, his breath caught in his throat and his hands tightening into clenched fists at his sides. Surely, she couldn’t be talking about him. Or them, as he would articulate it, as there had definitely been a union between them last night between his bedsheets. It wasn’t about him, or her. It was about them.
“It’s okay,” Camilla continued, trying to reassure whomever she was having the conversation with. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
At that moment, Brock could have used a little reassurance of his own. But he had heard everything he needed to hear. He knew everything he needed to know.
This, him and her, was a temporary thing. She didn’t plan on staying on as Rynn’s caregiver, and she certainly didn’t plan on allowing Brock to be anything more to her than a casual fuck.
He suddenly felt like a complete idiot for having believed it was more than casual.
You knew better, he reminded himself. And yet, you let her get to you.
That was the part that irked him most. He didn’t let her do anything. There had been no conscious thought or decision to take things to the next level with Camilla. It had happened effortlessly. Naturally.
That was why Brock had felt that maybe she was the one.
And she was. The one that was going to screw him over, that is. The woman was just playing games, using Rynn as a paycheck and using him as a way to let off some pent-up steam. Funny, suddenly the only visions running through his head were the ones showing what it would be like to punch his hand through the wall to alleviate some of his frustration and hurt.
Camilla ended the call and was just tucking the phone back into her pocket when she turned around to see him standing there. Her face brightened into a wide smile. “Hey, you. I didn’t hear you come in.” She closed the gap between them. “How are things?”
He couldn’t bring himself not to notice the way she wet her bottom lip with her tongue, or the way her eyes danced with the innuendo of what the evening would bring.
Could have brought.
“Clearer,” Brock replied, defeated. “Much clearer.”