Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
My mind made up, I stood and headed for the door. Whatever Jeremy needed, I wasn’t the one to give it to him.
6
Jeremy
Irushed through brushing my teeth, then did a quick sweep to make sure I hadn't left any dirty underwear lying around. Was there anything else particularly personal out in the open?
Oh, shit! I ran to my bed. Where was that damn lube from last night? My face burned at the memory of the fantasies that had played out in my head. Connor, and his perfect ass, had starred in every single one. I finally found the little bottle under my pillow. I stuffed it in the nightstand drawer and buried it under some nice existentialist poetry journals.
I tried to think straight, but my brain felt like it was swimming in cotton because I'd skipped coffee this morning. My plan was to walk to the cafe up the street. Hopefully, I could manage it without collapsing. I was utterly useless before my morning caffeine fix.
I shoved my laptop into my bag. What else did I need? My notebook—the old-fashioned, dead-tree kind. Headphones. A pen. I rummaged through my bag but didn't find any good ones, just those crappy ballpoints. I never bought those. Where the hell did they even come from? My office? I dug deeper, finally locating a decent pen.
Was that everything?
The doorbell rang, and I walked calmly to the door, no sliding this time. I was even wearing shoes. Well, sandals anyway; Connor would probably dismiss them as exactly what a professor would wear. But at least there were no neon socks, and I wasn't going to crash into the door.
Despite trying to brace myself, when I opened the door, I had the same reaction as before. Paralysis. Connor had this presence, this way of looking at me that made me want to agree to anything he said. I'd be on my knees in a second if he told me to, and I didn’t take orders from anyone, not since I'd come out, grown up, and started running my own life.
Most people saw my delicate features and smooth skin and assumed I was submissive. But while I had fantasies about letting go, I liked control and didn’t give it up easily. I needed to know I was safe before I could let anyone fuck me, and I rarely felt safe. I'd made a mistake with Silas the Asshole, ignoring the shitty way the man treated me. I wouldn't do that again, but something about Connor made me trust him more than I had anyone besides David in years.
"Good morning," Connor said, his expression expectant.
Maybe he was waiting for me to step aside and invite him in instead of just staring at him. "Come on in."
Connor set a bag of cleaning supplies down by the door and glanced around. "Looks like you've unpacked a lot more stuff."
"I tried. Some of it's up in the attic, but things should be out of your way."
"Whatever's not, I'll work around it." Connor waved dismissively.
No need to stand around making awkward small talk. Connor seemed like the kind of man who liked to get straight to work. I refused to let that disappoint me. "I'm going to grab my bag and head out to get some work done. Just text or call if you need anything. I might be back before you're done, but if so, I'll stay out of your way." And try not to stare at your ass too much.
Connor looked perplexed, but I wasn't sure why. Maybe he wasn't used to clients worrying about interfering with his work. I still wasn't used to the idea of hiring someone to clean. It felt odd, like I ought to be helping.
"You're working today?" Connor asked.
"Yes."
"I thought you were taking a… what's that word?"
"Sabbatical?" I asked.
"Right. Isn't that like a vacation?"
"Not really. I don't have to show up at my office, and I won't be teaching any classes during the fall semester, but I am supposed to make progress on my book. I've been trying to write it for over a year but never had enough time with all my teaching responsibilities."
Connor nodded. "So you're still working, but on your own schedule?"
"Right."
"Well, good luck."
"Thanks. I'm still mostly organizing notes at this point, but you probably don't want to hear about that, either."
"Actually, I think it's cool you're writing a book. I can't imagine being able to do that. Pulling all those thoughts together and doing all that writing, making it sound good and all."
"It's not easy, but it is doable. I think anyone can write a book if they put the time into it."
"Really? No way I could do that," Connor insisted.
"You might surprise yourself."
Connor shrugged.
I wasn't sure why it mattered so much to me, but I didn't want Connor to belittle himself. "You could do whatever you wanted if it was important enough to you."