Forbidden was not a word my heart knew, but one it had to learn.
I wondered if anyone else noticed. Noticed that she couldn’t look at me; never called on me. Noticed that it was fear keeping her eyes downcast. Noticed that I never raised my hand to volunteer an answer, but instead sat watching her, picturing her as I left her that morning – strawberry blonde curls spread over the pillow, a sheen of sweat covering her lithe body.
Placing a trail of kisses between her breasts I sighed.
“I have to go,” I whispered in between kisses, making no effort to get up. The early morning sun peeked through the blinds, highlighting the red in her hair and adding an extra flush to her already pink cheeks, making it impossible for me to leave her laying there looking so angelic.
“Stay,” she said softly, reading my hesitation, “I want to stay here all day with you.”
“Classes,” I replied, travelling down her body with my lips, “I have lots of them today, and so do you.” Punctuating each word with a kiss, I slipped my tongue into her wet folds and she cried out in surprise.
As the initial shock wore off, she arched up, sliding her legs over my shoulders. “Screw class,” she managed to gasp, desperately grabbing at the sheets, “you’re staying right where you are.”
After 20 minutes, and two intense orgasms, she moved off me, breathing heavily and flushed with exertion. I placed a gentle kiss on her lips and sat back, watching her, giving her a few moments to recover. Curls of hair stuck to her damp face and those magic eyes sparkled with delight.
“You’re late,” she pointed out, reaching up for another kiss.
“It was worth it,” I smiled, delaying the inevitable.
Standing at the door I took one last long look at her, burning the image of her into my memory. Blowing a kiss in her direction I slipped out the door. The icy air, unwarmed by the sun, hit my face. Tears, threatening to fall, felt frozen in place.
I didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave her. Walking out that door meant more than just going to class, it meant heartbreak; it meant being ignored by the woman that whispered her love for me as I dressed, it meant not even allowing a brief glance as we passed in the hallway. Reaching out to touch her, brushing my hand lightly against hers was an instinct, but one to be suppressed. So many secrets, so much forbidden.
Look up, I pleaded silently, just once I need you to look at me. Tearing a page out of my workbook I balled it up, my frustration bubbling over. She looked up as the sudden noise broke the silence of the room and I ducked my head, embarrassed by my actions.
“See me after class,” she said curtly, going back to what she was doing. A small smile played on her lips, noticeable only to those who knew her well. I looked at her in amazement, too shocked to speak. She looked like she’d wanted to say that for months.