Winnie Takes Paris – Love and Travel Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Lane Hayes Advertisement1

Advertisement2

Ugh. You know what this meant? I was attracted to the professor.

Snap out of it, Winnie.

I swiped my clammy palms on a towel and grabbed the glasses he’d left on the counter, wordlessly handing them over to him.

Alistair thanked me with a nod and wandered to his suitcase, clutching his towel with his right hand and sifting through his belongings with his left. Apparently, this was a silent good-bye.

I could take a hint. I tortured myself with one last peek at his broad chest and noticed that his glasses had slipped on his nose as he unearthed a pair of boxer briefs. He froze…hands full and most likely unable to see.

Anyone else would have dropped the briefs, fixed the glasses situation, and moved on without a thought. Not Alistair. The guy had more degrees than a thermometer, yet motor skill prioritization stumped him. I cocked my head, fascinated by his apparent indecision.

When seconds ticked into a minute, I couldn’t take the suspense. I marched to the professor’s side and pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, ha. Thank you.”

Alistair flashed a self-deprecating grin that made him look ten years younger. The twinkle in his eyes and the lopsided curl of his lips invited me to laugh at his clumsy display. But I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth…and his smooth jaw. He smelled fresh and minty—like toothpaste, shampoo, and something uniquely him. It was the beginning of my undoing.

His damp hair was finger-combed and wild and I liked it. I itched to push the stray lock from his forehead. Of course, I wouldn’t dare. No way. I knew myself. One touch and I’d be a goner. I’d plaster my naughty self all up in his grill, feasting on his lips while I explored every inch of his beefy, sexy torso. Bad idea.

So I stepped aside and gestured to the adjoining bedroom. “I should…”

“Yes, of course. We’ll talk later.” Alistair nodded. Vigorously.

All that vigorous nodding dislodged his glasses again.

This time he dropped the towel and the briefs to rescue his spectacles, and boom—he was starkers.

Just like the other day. Only worse because now I knew what it felt like to have his mouth on mine. I was so fucking hot and horny for him, it wasn’t funny.

And what the hell was with the rampant nudity?

If I didn’t know better, I’d think Alistair was an exhibitionist. Hell, maybe he was, but I had bigger problems to contend with now. Like my dick. It swelled in appreciation, and my little gasp of surprise was drenched with a generous helping of unmistakable desire. I couldn’t fake my way out of this gracefully.

I was fully clothed in my fabulous blue plaid trousers and a tapered oxford shirt. I oozed all things sharp and professional, but there was no hiding my burgeoning boner.

I picked up the towel in a last-ditch effort to pull myself together. Sadly, my balance was out of whack. I tripped and fell onto my knees, looked up and⁠—

Oh, Lord, give me strength.

Yeah, you know the philosophy I shared with the professor at the train station about finding a light and fluffy bloop to distract you from your problems? Total bullshit. Or maybe it didn’t apply in times like these. I mean…c’mon. I was face-to-face with a big, beautiful cock that seemed to grow before my very eyes.

I’d been in some tricky situations in the past. For example, the back-seat make-out session with a stranger I’d shared a cab with in New York City who I spotted on Dancing with the Stars the following week, and the memorable occasion when a go-go dancer pulled me on stage and proceeded to peel his clothes off a la Magic Mike. All of his clothes.

There were dozens of other instances of me temporarily losing my sense of propriety, but they paled in comparison to this.

Sure, I knew what I was supposed to do—jump to my feet and tell Alistair to knock on my door as soon as he was dressed, but I was not a damn saint. I was on fire for him. He was quietly commanding, sexy without trying.

And naked Alistair was a fucking god.

This man had been on my mind nonstop for days, starring in this exact sort of scenario. So excuse me for making all the wrong decisions, but since I was probably already on my way to hell in a Louis Vuitton knockoff handbag, I had nothing to lose.

Okay, possibly a job. That didn’t register as particularly important at the moment, though.

I glanced up at the professor and lifted my hand, brushing my fingertips along his shaft in a featherlight touch.

“Can I?” I whispered. “It’s too much, I know it is, but I just…”

“Yes.” Alistair’s voice was low and rumbly as he gripped his cock at the base, offering it to me with a no-nonsense confidence that was sexy as fuck. “Do it.”


Advertisement3

Advertisement4