Having him in such close quarters in my car earlier during the drive here didn’t help either. From the moment he got into my car, his scent enveloped my senses—fresh, yet spicy… manly. I had to physically refrain myself from looking at him repeatedly while I was driving. He is unbelievably attractive, even when it’s clear he’s not trying to be.

For fuck’s sake, when he got into my car, he was wearing black joggers and a navy-blue hoodie, with tennis shoes, and I had to actively hide the fucking chub I got just from being in his presence. And of course, I keep replaying that fantasy I beat off to in the shower of him a few weeks ago, where I came harder than I had in years.

I’ve been lying on my hotel bed for the last three hours, nursing a whiskey, avoiding shoving my hand down my pants and making myself come to the knowledge that he’s only a wall away. We’re going to dinner shortly, which should be interesting.

Speaking of dinner, my phone dings on the bedside table. It’s him.

Cash: Hey, are we going somewhere where I gotta dress nice?

Me: Do you want to?

Cash: Not really. LOL. But we can if you want to.

Me: There’s a pizza place/pub around the corner we can go to. It’s casual.

Cash: Sounds good to me, teach.

There’s that nickname again. A knock sounds at the door before I can reply. Rolling off the bed, I cross the room with large steps, pulling open the heavy door. Cash stands on the other side, wearing the same outfit as earlier.

“Can we go now? I’m bored,” he says, almost in a whining tone, his bottom lip poked out. What I would give to chomp on it before shoving my tongue down his throat.

“Yup. Come in and I’ll get my shoes on.” Stepping aside, I let him walk by me as I subtly inhale the air around him. My skin is on fire knowing that he’s in my hotel room. The desire to touch him is overwhelming.

Not once in my several years of teaching have I had inappropriate thoughts about a student. Even when students openly flirted with me and came onto me. Never. Now, here I am with him, someone who’s been my student for going on four years now, and suddenly I can’t even be in the same room as him without an erection threatening to pop up.

I need to get it under control.

Slipping my tennis shoes on, I slip my wallet and phone in my pocket. “Ready?”

“Hell yes. I’m starving.”