Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I say through my teeth, just as a sound catches my attention—Dax snickering to himself. I don’t know that my face could get much hotter.
“What was your name again?” Professor Reger asks.
“Miles Tanner.”
“You’ll do great. And it’s totally normal to be embarrassed about this. The longer you’re in here, the less it will affect you.”
Embarrassed? Fuck, she thinks my face is red because I’m blushing over this dumbass crap. I can’t win.
I swallow the impulse to say, You are so fucking wrong, it’s ridiculous, and wisely say, “Thank you again. I appreciate your understanding.”
I head to my workspace and start setting up, getting out my supplies as I recover from the humiliation of having a teacher thinking I’m such a prude, I can’t handle a little nudity.
Dax is still watching me, and I don’t know that I really have a right to judge, considering I was doing the same with him last spring at that frat party.
That wasn’t long after the fire at Sigma Alpha, which I took the fall for. Not that I can blame anyone else for that. I did turn myself in to the cops. But there were a lot of eyes on me, and I knew what they were thinking about the asshole whose bullshit prank set part of the house on fire, resulting in Alpha Theta Mu’s president, Sigma Alpha’s president’s boyfriend, winding up in the emergency room.
Then there was Dax, bright-eyed, laughing, fully enjoying the night with his buddies. I don’t believe in shit like auras, but if there was such a thing, he was radiant. Although, that might’ve just been something I noticed because of all the THC pumping through my veins.
I shake those thoughts, finally turning to Dax, who’s sitting all relaxed on the platform, his bright eyes on me as he offers a subtle wave, his expression saying, Dude, we’re gonna be here for a few months, so sooner or later, you’re gonna have to get used to it. I’ve gotten good at ignoring him, though, so I continue setting up before class starts and Dax strips out of his robe.
As much as I was pissed that the professor thought I was a prude, I find myself struggling to look. Between parties, TaskFrat Challenges, and builds, I’ve seen plenty of his body. I know how hot he is, and I’ve definitely peeked more than a few times, but it’s different this time because now he knows I’m looking.
I force myself to get it over with, and my gaze travels up and down him, stirring something in me…and also, something on me. I glance at the workspaces on either side of me, adjusting how I’m sitting so neither gets an eyeful. But as my gaze returns to him, I notice I’m salivating, my face warm.
I scratch at my arm uneasily, hoping he won’t look this way again while he’s posing. Professor Reger directs him through a few quick poses to get us warmed up—per the syllabus, we’ll do some of these, then a longer pose, gradually working up to one that will last weeks of class. The professor settles on one with his legs shoulder-width apart, hands resting on the back of his head, totally exposed, that tight ass facing me. The guy doesn’t seem to have an ounce of insecurity about any inch of his body, and I can’t blame him. He’s slender—though someone should tell his abs, which are perfectly defined and decorated with a sexy-ass happy trail, dark as the hair on his head.
For being fun and playful usually, he’s taking this modeling gig seriously, his expression stoic, accentuating his cheekbones and thick, full, kissable lips. Regardless of how kissable he may look, without his attention on me, it’s easier to relax and get to work.
Professor Reger makes some comments, noting the curvature of his spine and the positioning of his head. But I’m not really listening. Too busy.
My work has always been the only thing that can quiet my mind when things get chaotic, and I’m relieved to find it’s the same now, even under the circumstances. I don’t really feel like there’s a significant difference between my more abstract work, where I’m articulating moods and feelings, and this, where I’m supposed to be imitating reality. In both, there are rules and boundaries, and in both, there’s freedom to be found in bringing the elements to life. I’m relieved at how easy it is to immerse myself in the experience, assuring me I’ll be able to deal with a few months of this, after all.
I’m taking great care with the lines of his back, the subtle grooves between the muscles, especially those I’ve never noticed before, when I hear Professor Reger say, “And that’s all the time we have for today.”
I’m caught off guard by how quickly that went by, and Dax shifts out of his stoic state and flashes a look my way. He puts on his robe and chats with Professor Reger while I pack up hurriedly, but not fast enough because soon I notice Dax approaching, then looming over me.