Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson

Parker

Goodbye, Parker.

Goodbye.

Good… bye…

Stunned, I gave myself one full minute to process the clusterfuck that was my life to make sure I wasn’t in some weird-as-hell, blue balls, sex dream. The noise in the room seemed to swallow me whole as I turned to watch Donovan Brody walk through the restaurant toward the front door.

You’re my student.

It was hard to concentrate, all the reasons I wanted to chase him were the same reasons he’d push me away. James and Van were one person. He was my professor. That alone should have been enough for me to want to heed his warning.

This can’t happen.

If anything happened between us, and if somehow the college found out, I assumed he could lose his job. We’d have to hide, and that’s not something I’d ever wanted to do again. At least that’s the standard I’d set for myself the day I was discharged from the Air Force. I’d spent too much time living in some twisted, fake reality, too afraid to be myself, to live my life.

You’re a writer, Parker.

You give me confidence I’ve never had before.

But this was different. I wasn’t stepping back into the dark closet I’d left behind. Keeping a relationship on the downlow for a few months was a hell of a lot better than what I’d put myself through for those four years. Maybe if he was some random guy, it wouldn’t be worth it. But something tugged inside my stomach as my pulse quickened, and I knew I couldn’t let him walk away.

Donovan disappeared through the door like the sun dipping below the horizon, and I had no idea when I’d be awake again to see it rise, to see him like I had through the anonymous conversations. When he’d shown me his truth. When there had been no wall built out of words like this can’t happen. And you’re my student. There had been other words. Words that were ladders, words that jumbled up inside my chest and made me push out of the booth.

Your voice is genuine.

I want you. I want the real thing.

I didn’t take time to assess the situation, or worry about the consequences, as I made my way to the front door. Brushing past a couple of waiters, I didn’t even apologize. The evening air did little to cool my overheated skin once I was outside. At first, I didn’t immediately see him and thought I’d missed my chance, but as I looked to the right, I caught a glimpse of his gray shirt as he turned down the alley toward the back parking lot.

“Shit.”

I took off jogging after him. He’d opened his car door by the time I’d made it around the corner.

“Donovan,” I called out and he froze. “Wait a second.”

I slowed my pace, catching my breath as I approached him. Close enough, I could smell his cologne and something else, something earthy and sweet like lavender. The scent calmed me.

He closed the door but kept his eyes straight ahead.

“Hey… look at me.”

He shook his head, his shoulders falling.

“Please, Van… I need you to.”

“It’s done, Parker.” He slowly turned to face me with weary eyes.

His hair was messy, like he’d taken out his frustration on the dark strands. A few stray pieces had fallen over his forehead, and like it was a normal everyday thing to touch him, I lifted a hand and brushed them away.

His breath hitched and he took a step backward. “Park…”

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his jeans hugging his thighs. Donovan was the picture of perfection. His sharp jawline pulsed under the short, dark stubble that dusted his flawless skin. The stormy gray color of his eyes darkened as he stared back at me. The desire was there, the need I’d tapped into over the past week when we’d interacted online. He wanted me.

“It doesn’t have to be done,” I said, keeping my tone as even as possible.

“You’re my student.”

“Yeah, I know… you keep saying that.” I smiled, quiet and easy, but it hadn’t changed the strict edge to his posture. “And I get it. It’s against the rules, but Van—”

“This is my job… my life. I can’t just do whatever the fuck I want because it feels good.”

I risked taking a step closer and he swallowed as my eyes fell to his mouth. I should’ve listened to him, respected his concerns, but his tongue darted across his bottom lip, and I swear the phantom touch of it tingled across my lips.

“And what do we do on Monday?” I asked. “Look at each other from across the classroom and pretend we haven’t said the things we have… pretend I’m not dying to know what you taste like?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” he said, his face flushing a deep crimson. “There isn’t any other alternative.”

“I could drop the class.”

“No… that’s not an option.” He shook his hands at his sides, and I wondered if he was fighting himself, wondered if he wanted to reach out and touch me as much as I wanted to touch him “This is why we can’t do this. I can’t expect you to upend your life because of me. It’s an abuse of power, Parker. It’s unethical. You can’t do that… You’re too good of a writer to quit.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at his compliment, or how his voice had softened when he’d said it. “It’s an introductory class… I could take it again next semester with a different—”

“No.” He shook his head, his tone taking back it’s hard line. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m an adult the last time I checked. I can do what I want. And I want you.”

I drew in a breath and moved in even closer, crowding him in, leaving only a few inches between us. Donovan’s hands lifted, and for a moment I thought he would push me away, but his fingers curled into the fabric of my t-shirt instead.

“I can’t do this.”

“Then, don’t.” I held his stare for one... two… three seconds. “If you don’t want this, then let go.”

His grip tightened as his pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling, his hesitation and want warring inside the silver ring of his irises. Static buzzed along my limbs, waiting for him to make a move, aching for it.

“Parker,” he whispered my name, but all I heard was his submission.

I leaned in, and the invisible barrier he’d tried to maintain snapped as his mouth plunged into mine with violent precision. My hand found the back of his neck, using the heat of his skin as an anchor. The burn of his stubble etched its way across my lips, my chin. He released his hold on my t-shirt, and the palm of his hand made its way up my chest to the side of my neck. His thumb rested on my pulse point, my frantic heartbeat giving away how gone I was for this, for his kiss. My tongue slid into his mouth, grazing his tongue, and when he moaned, I pushed in deeper, tasting him like I’d wanted to since that first day of class. He was sweet and pliable, with a hint of beer lingering on his lips. I should’ve slowed down, taken a breath, taken a second to savor this, but I was afraid, any minute, he’d remember all the reasons why we shouldn’t do this, and reality would come crashing down on both of us.

His thumb grazed the length of my jaw as he tilted his head, taking more as I pushed him against the car. Panting, he gasped as I pressed my hips into his. My fingers twisted in his hair as the evidence of his arousal pressed along the length of my hard dick. There was no question of whether he wanted this, no more hesitation as his hands fell to my ass, grabbing and grinding his body against me.

“Fuck,” he whispered against my ear as I bit his jaw and sucked on his neck.

His skin was salty, the thin mist of sweat heavy on my tongue as I licked the hollow below his Adam’s apple. I wanted more. I wanted to bury my nose in his groin, inhale his musky scent, taste the first drops of pre-come as they leaked from his slit. Intoxicated by the thought, I forgot myself, and lowered my hand to the bulge in his jeans. I forgot we were standing in the middle of a parking lot, forgot that he could come to his senses, and I’d never get a chance to be with him like this ever again. But his forehead fell to my shoulder, his hands grasping at the sides of my shirt as he moaned and pushed his erection into the palm of my hand. The evening sun had set, casting us both in the muted light of the streetlamps like we were the only two people left in the city, even if that was far from the truth, this was private. It was for us. For him.

Donovan shuddered against me as I worked my hand up and down, taking his mouth with mine, his teeth sinking into my bottom lip as he hissed out a low groan.

“Come home with me,” I whispered, and immediately wished I hadn’t said a fucking word.

He pulled away, leaving a cold space between us.

“Home with you?” he asked and laughed without humor. His chin was red from my five-o’clock shadow, his lips swollen. A faint purple bruise had started to form low on his neck, and I would have reached out, dusted my thumb across the mark, but the shame in his eyes stopped me. “Where you live with another one of my students...”

“Marcos wouldn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter. Jesus Christ... what did I do?”

Risking ruining everything, I grasped his chin, gently urging him to look at me. It took him a second to yield, but his conflicted gaze eventually found mine.

“You did what you wanted. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s wrong… if you were anyone else, it wouldn’t be an issue. But we shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop, alright… Fuck, forget about all that shit for two seconds. Tell me how you feel, how it felt…” I smiled when he bit his lip. His hot breath fanned over the tip of my thumb as I brushed it along the curve of his mouth. “Kissing a man… Kissing me.”

He raised a hand and trailed it across the arch of my cheek, the small touch writing a blazing line of heat down my spine.

“It was…” he took a breath, his eyes closing as his hand settled on my neck. “Nothing has ever felt this right.” His dark lashes slowly parted again, and he watched me for what seemed like an infinite number of minutes, hours, hell if I knew, all I wanted was to kiss him again. “I don’t know what to do.”

Never taking my eyes off his, I brought our lips together. Cautious and slightly timid, he kissed me back. This kiss wasn’t like the last, desperate, and clinging like the storm of indecision might rip us apart. This kiss was a hint of maybe, an exploration of what could be. It wasn’t frantic and hopeless. It was trust me, as my tongue dove into his mouth, it was let it happen, as his finger curled through the belt loop in my jeans, it was I want to show you everything, as I sucked on his bottom lip.

Donovan kissed the corner of my mouth, my cheek, before resting his forehead against my brow. “I need to think.”

“Thinking sounds pretty awful.”

His chuckle resonated inside my chest.

“I can’t believe it was you,” he whispered, cupping my face in his hands. A pink shadow made its way up his neck to his cheeks. “But as much as I want to say I wish it wasn’t, I can’t. I fucking can’t, and it’s killing me.”

“After December, it will be a moot point.”

“We don’t know that. I never planned on dating a student, so I’m not one-hundred percent sure of the policy.”

“You want to date me?” I teased, my smirk growing the deeper he blushed.

“I didn’t say that, Mr. Mills.”

“Fuck, that turns me on.” I pressed our hips together and his hands fell to my waist. His body responded and I grinned, loving the effect I had on him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his smile vulnerable as he leaned in and brushed his lips over mine.

Caught in the moment, it took longer than it should have for us to realize we had an audience.

Someone cleared their throat, and Donovan’s body went rigid.

“I… uh… just need to get by.”

“Oh God… Sorry.” Instead of pushing me away, he pulled me close, hiding my profile against his neck.

“Don’t be…” The woman’s voice held a hint of humor. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

As she walked past us, he released his death grip on my waist. She got into the car behind Van’s, and I could’ve sworn he’d held his breath until she’d pulled out of the parking lot.

“Not everyone knows you’re my teacher,” I said, and he exhaled a sigh.

“This is why we shouldn’t do this.”

Shouldn’t. Not can’t.

I grabbed onto the word like a lifeline.

“We can figure it out.” Not giving him any room to argue, I said, “Not everything has to be decided this very second. Enjoy the kiss, Van. Enjoy this.”

I ghosted a finger under the waistline of his jeans, teasing his hot skin, and he grabbed my wrist.

“Not here.”

“Where, then?”

“Not yet,” he breathed into the crook of my neck. The soft pressure of his lips tickled my skin. “If we’re going to do this… I want to do it right.” I laughed and he pulled back, his brows furrowed. “What?”

“You do want to date me.”

“Yeah.” His laugh was quiet and soft like his smile. “I guess I do.”