After he phones in a pizza, Evan comes into my office and leans over the front of my desk. “Where do you want me to start?”
I glance up to find him hovering above me, and suddenly my lips feel so dry, my tongue darts out to wet them. Evan smiles at the gesture—the bridge of his nose crinkles when he does that, and his eyes disappear into half-moons, so cute. I wonder if they do that when he comes, too. I can imagine his mouth open, his lips taut, his voice throaty and low as he moans my name…
“Jeff?”
With a start, I knock over the coffee mug beside me and scramble to rescue the pens that fall out of it to scatter across my desk. “First quarter,” I tell him, ducking down to retrieve the pens from the floor. When I sit up again, I crack the back of my head on the underside of my desk. “s*
