I couldn't believe I'd done it now. No one had been in my home. Not unless they were there to improve or fix something inside. My home was my place where I didn't have to worry about the public, what they thought of me. I could be myself. That had been what had compelled me to invite Shiloh over in the end.
For once, I wanted to be myself around him.
But I was barely keeping my hands off him now. If Shiloh Formes walked through my front door, I didn't know when I'd be able to let him back out again. He was attracted to me; I knew that much. But was his attraction for me as an authority figure or as a man?
Since it was colder out, we took a taxi back to my house. I lived in the highest peak of Predator Point in the largest house—a point of pride for some shifters. I didn't always have the largest house, but after Melvin Amari was sentenced to prison and Maddox and Malcolm Amari had dismantled their childhood estate, my house became the biggest in the neighborhood. I'd never really cared about that until I had Shiloh beside me. Before him, I never had a desire to prove myself. Except now. I wanted Shiloh to be impressed.
But at the moment, I would have settled for hearing him speak at all.
The taxi dropped us off at the end of the serpentine driveway. I pressed my thumb to the screen at the gate, hearing the low beep that signaled the gates were about to open. We walked through, and they closed automatically behind us. Shiloh walked at my side, though not close enough for my liking.
I unlocked the front door and stepped to the side, giving Shiloh room to enter first. "After you."
He was close enough to touch. Close enough to undress. Close enough to—
"Your home is amazing," Shiloh whispered.
"I'm told the view is beautiful." The realtor's depiction of the main living room had been one of the reasons I'd chosen this house instead of something a little less ostentatious. There was a marble gas fireplace in the main living room as well. "I like to sit in here when it is rainy out. The warmth of the fire combined with the soft pattering of rain drops against the windows is especially soothing."
"It isn't rainy today," Shiloh said like he was sad for that fact.
"It's October. It will again."
Shiloh made a sharp, short, high-pitched sound.
"I believe I promised you coffee," I said so I wouldn't ask him what that sound meant. I needed to be careful, now more than ever, and asking Shiloh the meaning behind his needy noises wasn't going to help me be careful.
He followed me into the kitchen, where he let out a low whistle. "Your kitchen looks like a magazine."
"I try to keep it clean," I said, reaching for a pod of coffee. "Light roast, right?" He preferred his caffeine in battery acid form—cans of energy drinks—but the few times he'd had coffee, he'd chosen a lighter roast.
"Yes, with lots of cream and sugar," he said. There was a short pause and then, "You don't have a maid who cleans for you? A butler? Chauffeur?"
"Okay, okay, I get it," I said, closing the coffee pod inside of the maker. I pressed the button to brew and turned to get cream from the fridge. "I suppose I could hire those people if I wanted to, but I'm particular about my home. I don't like many people traipsing through."
"So I'm special?" he asked like he almost couldn't believe it.
He had no idea. The wall I'd constructed in my mind that had separated us firmly into teacher and student had been necessary when we first met, but I didn't have the will to keep it up for much longer. So far, I'd done what I set out to do. Shiloh was with me when he wasn't in school, and at night I walked him home, sometimes waiting outside until I was completely sure there was no danger coming for him. I wouldn't admit to the time when I'd ended up sleeping the night outside, curled under a bush in my puff adder form.
The danger I'd worried about after overhearing Shiloh's brother's conversation hadn't come to fruition, but I didn't regret the actions that moment had sparked. Just like I didn't regret having Shiloh in my home now. I was cautious and prepared to take things as slow as Shiloh needed, but I was happier than I imagined I would be having him in my home.
"Unbelievably so," I replied, pouring a copious amount of cream into the mug before scooping three entire spoonfuls of sugar.
"You look unhappy, Professor Crawford."
I realized I'd been frowning. "So much sugar…"
Shiloh laughed. "What, you don't like to take a little coffee with your sugar?"
I handed him his cup, and he took a sip.
The silence that followed had me lifting the sugar dish and passing it to him as well. He scooped at least one more spoonful.
I set my cup to brew and leaned back against the counter.
"So you clean your own house. What about cooking?"
"You can't possibly still be hungry."
"No, I'm not," he confessed. "I'm just curious."
"I admit, I can cook, but don't often. It's just easier to order in most days. I have a small order of groceries delivered twice a week to keep me well-stocked on coffee and cream, and I use a service for my laundry, but that is more because most of my suits are dry-clean only, and I hate doing laundry."
Shiloh laughed, the sound like the joyful trilling of a bell. "Me too. But I also hate cleaning."
"I can't live in clutter. It both stifles my creativity and poses a tripping hazard."
"That makes sense," Shiloh replied, and the two of us descended again into silence, both drinking our coffees.
I'd grown accustomed to sitting in silence with Shiloh. I didn't want to be silent now, though. I carried my coffee around to the other side of the counter and sat on the chair next to Shiloh. "Any other questions?" I asked quietly. I was an open book to Shiloh. Anything he wanted to know, I wanted to tell him.
He shocked me by reaching out and rubbing the fabric of my sweater. "Did you choose these sorts of materials on purpose? At school you always wear suits."
"I can't say I'm extremely into fashion, but I guess I do trend toward softer fabrics when I'm not dressing for work. Normally when I'm at home, I wear sweats."
"I knew it," he mumbled.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Shiloh's heart was pounding, but this time, the rhythmic beat matched my own. I licked my lips as my hand tingled. I wanted to cup his face and let the fleshy pad of my thumb graze over his lips softly.
"Professor Crawford?" Shiloh whispered curiously. Was my desire to touch him showing so plainly on my face?
"I think Beckett might be more appropriate in this moment," I replied.
Shiloh gasped softly. "Okay, Beckett."
Did it feel as good for him to say my name as it did for me to hear it?
"I've had a really amazing time working with you so far."
My eyebrows furrowed. That sounded like the beginning of a breakup. "But?"
"No but. Just—thank you, that's all."
I forgot all about my coffee and reached for Shiloh's hand. "You know the position is yours until either my time ends at this school or you don't want to do it any longer. Nothing will endanger that." I was trying to explain to him that his position as my assistant wasn't contingent on me holding his hand. Nothing about his reaction to me felt forced or like it was outside of the realm of what he wanted, but I had to be absolutely sure. Especially since things were about to become very honest between us. "I know you are attracted to me."