I Locked My Professor's Office Door, and Left Belonging to Three Men novel · Chapter 6 of 24
Chapter 6: Dawn on the Water
Colin kissed me against the cedar wall of the boathouse with the mist still lying on the water outside.
He was very careful about it.
He held my face in both his hands, and they were so large that they covered my ears.
"Oh, yeah," he said softly, when he let me breathe. "No. I've wanted to do that since the cart."
"The projector cart."
"Three flights," he said. "You were so cold."
"You asked me if I was warm enough."
"You weren't," he said.
"I am now."
It was six on a Sunday morning in October, and the Argo boathouse smelled of varnish and river water.
Long white rowing shells lay on racks along both walls.
Colin had pulled one down onto a pair of padded trestles in the middle of the floor.
The light through the high windows came in gray and gold along its hull.
He wore a faded Wisconsin sweatshirt, and his forearms were bare.
They were thick, freckled, and heavy with muscle, and I wanted to put my mouth on them.
"Take it off," I said.
"The sweatshirt?"
"Everything."
He went red from his collar to his hairline.
He pulled the sweatshirt over his head, and he stood there in the gray light with his chest bare and his hands hanging.
He was enormous.
He was broad through the shoulders and heavy through the chest.
Sandy hair going gray ran across it, and a long old scar ran down one arm.
He did not know what to do with his hands.
"You can look," Colin said.
"I am."
"People usually stop," he said.
"Stop what?"
"Looking." He gave a small laugh. "After the first time. They see the rest of me and they get quiet."
I stepped forward and put my palm flat on his sternum.
His heart was hammering.
"I'm not going to get quiet," I said.
"Hannah."
"Take me to the boat."
He lifted me.
He did it without any effort at all, one arm under my knees and one around my back.
I hung there against his chest, dizzy and small.
He carried me to the shell.
He set me on my feet beside the trestles and I turned in his arms and began to undress him.
I knelt to pull down his sweatpants, and he made a low broken sound above me.
He was already hard.
I sat back on my heels and looked at him, and my mouth went dry.
He was long, and thick, thicker than I had expected, and the head was dark and flushed and wet at the slit.
"Oh," I said.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't you dare be sorry," I said.
"It's a lot."
"It's a lot," I agreed, and I wrapped both hands around him and he swore at the rafters. "I want a lot."
I took him in my mouth as far as I could.
It was not far.
I worked the head with my lips and my tongue, and used my hands for the rest.
I looked up at him while I did it.
His head had fallen back.
His throat moved when he swallowed.
"Hannah," he said hoarsely. "Oh, yeah. That's so good."
"Mm."
"Your mouth. God," he said. "I can't. I can't stand up."
"Then hold on."
He gripped the edge of the shell with both hands.
The slings creaked.
I took him as deep as I could manage and hummed.
He said a long soft string of Norwegian that I did not understand.
I slid my tongue along the underside and he shook.
"Stop," he said. "Stop, or I'll finish."
I drew back with a wet sound.
"Good," I said.
"Not for you."
"I'll get mine."
"You will," Colin said. His voice had gone low and steady in a way I had not heard. "You will, Hannah. I promise you will."
He drew me to my feet.
He peeled off my coat and my sweater and the thermal shirt under it, and he made a sound at what he found.
"You wore the black one again," he said.
"For you."
"You'll kill me."
He bent and kissed my collarbone and my shoulder, and his hands went to the button of my jeans.
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