In Too Deep Read Online Free PDF

worry, Daniel. I’m sure it’s just a one-off. We get dodgy notes and rude pictures in the box all the time.’ My fingertips tingle with the need to reach out and touch him, maybe pat his long denim-covered thigh to make my point. Yeah, right … ‘When you don’t reply to the overture, they always lose interest.’
    He clasps his fingers and his expression tells me he doesn’t quite believe me. Or maybe it’s just that he’s sharp enough to read my signals and he’s not sure he likes them, hard-on or no hard-on.
    ‘Are you sure?’ He heaves a sudden sigh, his chest lifting. And I know it’s a very nice chest, because a week or so ago, during a brief heat-wave, he abandoned his tweedy jacket in the main lending library and just worked in a white tee-shirt that embraced his luscious pecs delightfully.
    ‘It’ll be OK. But thanks anyway. For worrying …’
    He straightens up on the seat, and somehow seems to grow from Clark into Superman.
    ‘But you must promise me … if there’s any trouble with this … this Nemesis, you’ll call on me for help.’
    He
is
Superman, and suddenly, despite the fact that I fancy him something rotten, I’m touched. And this time I
do
pat him on the thigh. And then lean over to kiss my ‘thank you’ on his cheek.
    Well, that’s what I meant to do. Instead, somehow, I miss his cheek and zero in, with pinpoint accuracy, on his lips.
    At first, it’s still a kiss of thanks, and Daniel’s mouth is velvet-soft and quiet under mine. We’re still OK. Nothing’s happened. It’s just a ‘friend’ thing and we can both get out of this without either the pink cheeks or the rosy ears of total embarrassment.
    But then everything changes. In a suspiciously accomplished movement, Daniel whips off his glasses, tosses them on to the bench, and then his hands, those strong elegant hands I’ve been entertaining such spectacular fantasies about, come up and cup my face, fingers spread to hold my head and keep our mouths in perfect alignment.
    His tongue presses against my lips, and there’s nothing in the slightest bit diffident about it. As it explores and thrusts and tastes, I crumple Nemesis’s letter and let it fall to the gravel, blue words on blue paper forgotten as I lift my hands to Daniel’s shoulders.
    His mouth tastes of peppermint as if he’s been sucking Polos. I share the flavour but it’s the man that’s more delicious. And for someone who’s projected such an image of composure and scholarly reserve all the time I’ve known him, he certainly knows how to kiss like a macho stud.
    Attack. Retreat. Cajole. Beguile.
    I’m putty in his hands, a melting heap of pumping hormones, liquefying both metaphorically and very physically between my legs. He doesn’t touch any part of me other than my face, which he cradles, but he might as well have his hand inside my panties.
    Me, I have less restraint and, as the mad hormonal messages ramp up and up, some of them bypass my brain completely and end up in my hand. Completely out of control, I lay my fingers across his crotch.
    For a few moments, it’s as if his conscious mind doesn’t notice, and just his body responds, automatically pushing his erection against my touch. Then his grey cells catch up and he shoots back across the bench like a startled kitten, breaking our kiss and sending his spectacles skittering on to the gravel. He swoops over, scrabbling to find them, and we’re in farceland again.
    In a flash, I’m mortified and angry, but I’m not sure who with. Me, for doing something reprehensibly stupid and forward with a man I barely know? Or with Professor Hottie for leading me on and then suddenly getting cold feet?
    He blinks at me from behind his miraculously unharmed glasses, and doesn’t appear to know what to say.
    ‘Well, obviously that was a mistake of huge proportions.’ I rise and swoop up my belongings – bag, water bottle, perv letter – from the ground where they’ve all ended up in the course