7. Alistair

7

ALISTAIR

I had a feeling I was going to be very sorry.

Yes, I liked Winnie…a lot.

He was a breath of fresh air albeit with the subtlety of a hurricane—loud and brash. Yet I sensed a fragility to him that brought out my protective side. I hadn’t known I’d had one. His plea to assist had a manic edge I associated with someone who had something to prove to himself. I knew a thing or two about personal battles.

Perhaps my mini meltdown— the one that had led to our unplanned initial Parisian excursion—had leveled the playing field a bit. Winnie had met my close-associate-slash-one-time-nemesis and in a roundabout way had encouraged me to face Gerard. Of course, that had led to yet another project, so I wasn’t convinced I’d come out ahead on that one.

But let’s talk about that blowjob, shall we?

My God, Winnie on his knees with his lips wrapped around my dick had officially jumped the queue to the top of my favorite memories. It was sensual and sexy and a little confusing.

How was it possible that this beautiful hothouse flower of a human wanted me ?

But he did. And it was more than want. He’d looked at me as if he’d thought I might have the answers he needed. With his swollen lips, dreamy eyes, and my cum on his cheek, I’d had a very real desire to be whatever version of a knight in shining armor he’d dreamed up.

And that wasn’t wise. I was no savior, but if he was hoping for a Parisian diversion with meaningless sex and didn’t mind that it came with a small history lesson, I was on board.

I vowed to be open to new ideas and suggestions and step outside of my comfort zone. I might even let him “assist” me. Just a little.

He could begin by acquainting himself with a general timeline of Ancient Egyptian.

“How? Wikipedia?” he asked.

“That’s fine.”

“Great. Be sure to check the schedule I left on your desk. We’re splitting time evenly between work and field trips…starting today.”

“Winnie…”

“No complaints,” he warned. “We have a deal, a plan, a schedule. It’s going to be fab, darling. You’ll see.”

That was how it began.

Winnie’s Proposed Schedule:

Breakfast

Excursion 1

Lunch

Work

Excursion 2

Dinner

Excursion 3

“This is an excursion-heavy proposal,” I commented warily.

“We can switch things around. Maybe double work one day and double fun the next. ”

I fixed him with a dubious once-over. “I agree to a three-day trial.”

“You’re on. Prepare to have the best three days ever.”

Day one: I gave Winnie a list of broad subjects to review online—the Nile, gods and religion, hieroglyphs, art and architecture—while I studied notes and digital archives of archeological fragments. Every once in a while, I’d ask him to stop and look up something specific, like Amun, Ogdoad, and the temple at Karnak…for fun.

I sat at the table I’d repurposed as a desk, squinting at two different screens, deciphering hieratic documents on one, a map of Saqqara on the other, images of artifacts on an iPad, and…a view of Winnie in my periphery with a laptop on his knee, oohing and aahing over whatever he’d stumbled across in the latest rabbit hole he’d fallen into.

I’d expected to be annoyed by the distraction, but Winnie was pleasant company. For once, he wasn’t overly chatty and if his occasional interruptions caught me off guard, I blamed my newly activated libido. I was intensely aware of Winnie.

Well, since we’d agreed that sex was on the table, there was no point in pretending to be a prude, right?

Contrary to what my ex thought, I loved sex. I loved everything about it. I loved the fluttery sensation of mutual attraction and the tentative dance that turned into rabid desire. I loved the intimacy of holding a man—touching, kissing, fucking.

And God, I wanted to fuck Winnie.

But I’d take whatever he offered and do my best not to scare him away.

I found myself machinating ways to get close to him. Yes, the man who could sit for hours in front of a computer suddenly needed to stretch his legs and step onto the balcony for a bit of fresh air.

Winnie would join me, standing close with a dreamy look on his face as he soaked in the city. I’d brace for manic conversation a la Mr. Toad in The Wind in the Willows . Again, he’d surprise me…leaning on me like a cat until I opened my arms and let him in.

Soulful kisses turned hungry in an instant. We’d stumble into my suite, pull the duvet aside and undress as if we were on a timer, chasing lips in the dimly lit bedroom. I was usually self-conscious about nudity. I wasn’t overly fit or trim, but I was too engrossed in Winnie to worry about my shortcomings.

He was beautiful.

I couldn’t believe he was naked in my bed, arms open, legs spread wide. I climbed atop him, licking every inch of his body from the crease under his knees to the sensitive skin under his sac. I sucked his balls, teased the tip of his cock, devouring him in greedy pulls, then tweaking his nipples.

Sometimes I urged him to feed me every drop he had while I stroked myself to the finish line. Other times, I covered his body, thrusting against his erection as I feasted on his mouth. I liked the feel of him beneath me, and I loved holding him tightly as cum spurted between us.

There’d been a couple of shower hand jobs, a sofa frotting session, and countless blowjobs. No complaints here…except I’d been extremely unproductive at work.

And Winnie hadn’t gone sightseeing.

Till today.

“Where are we going?”

My gaze traveled to Winnie as he adjusted his fedora at a jaunty angle in front of the mirror next to the elevators. This morning he wore a smart herringbone suit coat with designer jeans he’d rolled at the cuffs and a pair of shiny loafers that looked decidedly uncomfortable for traversing city streets.

In contrast, I was sensibly dressed in khakis, a tan jumper, and trainers. I would be comfortable; he would be fabulous.

“It’s a suggested schedule. I know you’re busy, and I respect that. So maybe a stroll through the gardens or the shops on the Champ Elise would be nice before we dive into the books?”

“Champs élysées,” I corrected. “Lunch, one stroll, then back to work.”

“Yes, sir!” He beamed, dancing to the elevator as soon as the doors slid open. “I mean… oui , mon-sur .”

“ Monsieur . We have one hour, Winnie. Nothing more.”

Winnie winked and threaded his arm through mine. “One hour.”

Three hours later, we’d popped into a dozen shops on Champs élysées, had a bite to eat at a crowded café on the Avenue de Wagram, and bought tickets to traverse the two hundred and eighty-four steps of the spiral staircase to the top of the Arc de Triomphe.

It was cramped and hot, and not my idea of fun, but Winnie was happy and that was worth the price of admission. His smile blinded me. No joke. He stood on the precipice overlooking Paris, emanating the kind of joy I hadn’t felt since I was a child. I couldn’t stand there, staring at him forever, so I prepared my short speech about Napoleon commissioning the structure in 1806 to honor his troops’ victory over Austria. You know…for fun.

Winnie beat me to it.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“A village outside of Canterbury, two hours southeast of London. ”

“Family?”

“I have one, yes,” I confirmed sarcastically.

Winnie snickered, nudging my elbow playfully. “Answer the question, Professor.”

“My parents are alive and well, happily married and happily retired. My sister, Annabelle, lives two streets away from Mum and Dad with her husband, two children, and three dogs. My father taught history at primary school, Mum was a librarian, and Annabelle and Richard are both historians. They have a successful podcast and have written a few books that have been well received.”

“Wow! Genius runs in the Creighton genes, huh?”

I gave a half laugh. “I don’t know about genius, but we’re all academics. I spent quite a bit of my youth surrounded by books.”

“Not me. I’m the first one in my family to go to college.”

“San Francisco? Is that right?”

He twisted to face me and beamed. “You were listening! Geez, it’s almost like you’re flirting with me again, Professor.”

“I don’t flirt,” I huffed.

“That’s right. I remember.” Winnie inched closer to me to give a fellow tourist room to take a selfie.

He smelled good. I fought the urge to bury my nose in the crook of his neck and breathe him in. I cleared my throat instead and tried to remember what we’d been discussing. Family, university…safe topics.

“Did you enjoy college?”

“Oh, God, yes! I met amazing friends and learned a lot about how to adult as a queer man in the big scary world. San Francisco felt like the ultimate safe space. I was out in high school, or maybe even junior high—I forget—but I didn’t really let my guard down and stretch my wings until college. I faked it well in high school. I wore wacky clothes, did my hair and makeup, and walked into every room like I had it going on.” He snapped his fingers and popped his hip out. “Long story short…I didn’t.”

“Sounds like any typical teenager.”

Winnie gasped. “Typical? Bite your tongue. I was never typical. I never wanted to blend in, but I definitely needed those college years to learn…grace, you know? I’m not graceful, so that’s probably the wrong word. What’s the word when you’re transforming into the you that you’re supposed to be and it finally feels right? Like a butterfly.”

“A chrysalis?”

“No, but you know what I mean—you go to college to get all the angst and in-your-face BS out of your system. You go to all the parties, do the drugs, drink way too much, have too much sex, and when the dust settles, if you’re lucky, something magical happens—you find your people. And if you’re extra lucky, you’ve sworn off vices that don’t serve you and men with big egos and small dicks. You figure out your worth and you stand by it. You own it. College gave me that extra boost I needed.”

“I see.”

“My mom didn’t understand, though. ‘ Mijo , you waste your money!’” He modulated his voice a few octaves with a Mexican accent before continuing. “Sure, I’m still paying off student loans, but I have no regrets. None. Think about it…if I hadn’t gone to SFSU, I wouldn’t have met Raine and I wouldn’t be here with you now. And wow, this is amazing, Alistair. Truly amazing.”

His voice was laced with profound wonder.

Once again, Winnie confounded me. One simple “Did you enjoy college?” and he’d given me a dissertation on growth and self-affirmation. I couldn’t relate to his tale in any way, shape, or form, but I was spellbound. How could I not be?

Snap out of it, man .

“Amazing,” I repeated for lack of anything better to say.

“So…yay, college.”

I chuckled. “Yay, college. I don’t think I uttered that phrase once while I was at uni.”

“Really?” He pivoted toward me, resting his elbow on the rail. “I thought you loved learning. You’re a professor, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yes, but I was there to learn, not to—how did you put it—get all the angst out of my system. I don’t have angst.” I fiddled with my glasses and slipped my free hand into my pocket to rummage for my phone as I idly watched a gaggle of tourists point out the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

Winnie arched his brow imperiously. “Everyone has angst, honey. And your cell is still in your right pocket.”

I gave a weak half laugh and pulled my phone out. “I’m forever misplacing things. That’s my angst.”

“Wrong. That’s a quirk. Angst is different. That’s the stuff inside that makes your stomach hurt at three a.m. out of the blue. Does that ever happen to you?”

“No, I’m usually working at three a.m.,” I admitted.

Winnie wrinkled his nose in distaste. “What do you do for fun?”

“I suppose I…read.”

“And?” he prodded.

I shrugged. “I watch films every now and again.”

“What’s the last film you watched in a movie theater?”

I shot him an exasperated look. “I don’t remember exactly…maybe Titanic ?”

Winnie’s jaw dropped like a cartoon character. “That’s a moldy movie. That cannot be your answer.”

I snickered at his put-upon expression. “It is my answer, and what is a moldy movie, exactly?”

“Old!” He sighed and waved a diva-esque hand between us. “ I loved that movie to pieces, though, so I’m only judging you for not going to the theater.”

“Why would I want to go to the cinema? People don’t behave there. They talk, put their feet on your seat, stare at their cellular devices.”

“How do you know? Cell phones didn’t exist in Titanic days.”

“They did,” I reported. “They were just heftier and texting was a bother.”

Winnie smiled. “Sounds positively prehistoric.”

We were quiet for a long moment, admiring the view. I pointed out the Place de la Concorde, the opera house, and the H?tel des Invalides where Napoleon’s tomb was on display. It was all very neutral, so I wasn’t sure why I veered off course and made things personal. Again.

“Do you still have angst?”

“Yeah.” Winnie kept his gaze forward, his expression hidden behind his dark glasses. “I think it’s tied to my Peter Pan syndrome.”

“You don’t want to grow up?”

“No, it’s more that I don’t know how to do it. I haven’t used my degree for anything newsworthy, and I’m not exactly killing it as a stylist. I can’t decide if it’s time to move on or try harder.” He opened his palms and inhaled deeply. “You’re lucky to be passionate about your work. I’ve never had a job I wanted to do all night long. Ever.”

I stuffed my hands into my pockets and squinted at the traffic below. “My work is a nice escape.”

“From what?”

“Twenty-first century problems,” I replied. “I’m paid well to travel back in time to piece together aspects of an ancient civilization that thrived for thousands of years. I can dive into my favorite era and reconstruct the temples and palaces of Ramesseum, imagining what life would have been like at a time of incredible prosperity in the reign of Ramses the Great. I can get lost in fragments of lives long gone with bits of pottery, shards of jewelry, and mummified pets. It amazes me to think someone like us wore that necklace or bracelet on their skin, held that cat in their arms, fed it water or milk from a bowl…just as we would. All that separates us is time.”

“Huh, I’d never thought of it like that. No offense, but musty old stuff in museums doesn’t do much for me. If you hadn’t taken me to the Louvre, I would have gone on my own and skipped out as soon as I got my selfie in front of the Mona Lisa . Hashtag ‘why so glum?’”

I barked a laugh. “There’s no need to apologize for not sharing my interests. I’d be more surprised if you did. You’re a thoroughly modern man, Winnie—vibrant and curious, and very much in tune with what’s cool and trendy. I’m not.”

“You’re cool.”

“Am I really?” I snorted in dismay.

“In your own way…yes.”

“Well, I’m definitely not trendy.”

Winnie stepped aside, cocking his hat as if to get a better look. “No, you’re not.”

“You don’t like my jumper?” I asked, plucking at the fabric.

He slid his sunglasses down his nose and pushed them into place. “Beige is making a comeback, but you’re riding that wave too hard. Blue is your color. Trust me, it’ll make your eyes pop.”

I twisted my lips in amusement. “If you say so.”

He playfully bumped my elbow on the railing and sighed. “Sounds like we’re both in the market for a little escape. Paris is mine and work is yours.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“It’s not totally accurate. Your escape has meaning and purpose. Mine is an opportunistic getaway that I hope ends with a flash of chalance. ”

I laughed. “You have an interesting habit of repurposing the English language.”

“Do I?”

“Chalance isn’t a word, Winnie. Perhaps you mean clarity?”

“No, chalance sounds better. The opposite of nonchalance,” he insisted, bumping my elbow again.

I returned the favor as if we were old friends, then turned to study the surrounding landscape—the fluffy white clouds, the trees turning orange and yellow, and the French flags dotting the avenue.

I’d been here many times, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted to linger and soak in the atmosphere. There was always work to do, important research that was crucial to furthering our collective understanding of the past, yet for the first time in ages, I was very comfortable right where I was…in the present.

Of course, I couldn’t stay here for long.

“Do you see the obelisk straight ahead in the Place de la Concorde?” I pointed at the huge phallic-shaped slab of vertical red granite in the middle of the roundabout down the avenue from the Arc de Triomphe. “It’s over three thousand years old and is one of a pair—the other is still in Luxor.”

He gaped. “That thing is three thousand years old? For real?”

“Yes. It was gifted to Paris in 1833. Interesting, since Napoleon went out of his way to conquer Egypt just over three decades earlier. They claim he wanted to damage British trade routes to India, and yes, I’m sure that’s true, but Napoleon had quite an ego,” I rambled on. “Some say he wanted to walk in Alexander the Great’s footsteps and—sorry, I’m lecturing.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Really? I would think that—what’s wrong?” I cocked my head as if it would help me decipher his expression .

“Kiss me,” Winnie blurted, tugging my sleeve as he grinned at me.

My glasses slipped on my nose as I furrowed my brow, pivoting to face him. “What—here? Now?”

His smile had an enigmatic quality I couldn’t interpret, but the desire was easier to read. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at me like that. It was hypnotic.

“Yes…here. Now.”

I traced Winnie’s jaw with the tip of my forefinger, relishing his sharp intake of breath as I stepped closer. He put a hand on the top of his head to keep his hat in place as he tilted his chin, lips parted in invitation.

So I kissed him.

It was brief but potent—a quick brush of tongues, a sigh, and the slide of lips. I released him, my cheeks on fire when I accidentally stumbled into an older man with a professional camera around his neck. What were we thinking? We were in public, for God’s sake. Standing atop of a famous monument, snogging like teenagers was reckless and immature and?—

Oh, fuck it.

I pulled Winnie into my arms again and crashed my mouth over his. His hat slipped off his head, his sunglasses went cockeyed, and we definitely had an audience now. I should have been mortified by my lack of self-control and decorum, but I wasn’t. He felt too good.

A wolf whistle and applause snapped me out of my trance. I bent to pick up Winnie’s hat, fixed his sunglasses, then linked my fingers with his and pulled him to the staircase.

We speed-walked along the Champs élysées—no window-shopping this time, no pausing for carefully curated Instagram-worthy selfies. I noticed him studying the obelisk as we waited for the light at the crosswalk to turn, but he didn’t ask questions and I didn’t volunteer information .

We had more pressing things in mind.

I knew I did, anyway. I wanted Winnie. I wanted him badly.

I wanted him naked in my bed, arms above his head, legs open. I wanted to touch him, taste him, tease him, please him. And I wanted to take my time.

We nodded to the doorman and made our way to the lifts, where we shared a ride with a chatty couple from Texas. Winnie charmed them and I ignored them, staring straight ahead like a statue. The second the doors parted, I sprang into action, key card in hand as I strode down the hall toward my suite with Winnie at my heels.

We didn’t enter the room; we crashed into it, careening against the nearest wall as we came together in a manic embrace with dirty kisses and feverish humping. Winnie broke away with a gasp and tossed his hat onto the desk, then shrugged his suit coat off and motioned for me to follow his lead.

I tugged my jumper and T-shirt over my head, dropping them on the floor. I had a brief thought that I should have started with my trousers. My cock was far more impressive than my no-gym body.

He was obviously open to the concept of a short tryst with a flabby professor who avoided sunshine like a vampire, but I wouldn’t kid myself that he found me…attractive. Not Hollywood attractive, that was for certain. After all, Winnie came from the land of oiled-up, muscular hotties with six-packs, golden tanned skin, perfect teeth, and impeccable wardrobes.

That wasn’t me. Not that he seemed to mind as he was currently attempting to suck on my tonsils as he kicked off his shoes and unbuckled my belt.

I returned the favor, unzipping and lowering his trousers to?—

“Bloody hell, Winnie. What are you wearing? ”

He licked his pink-stained lips and glanced down. “Lace. Do you like it?”

My mouth went dry in an instant. I swallowed hard and stepped aside to get a better look at the flimsy black fabric covering his rigid cock. He wriggled out of his shirt and trousers till he stood wearing nothing but a bit of lace.

And Christ, I’d never seen anything sexier in my life.

“I—yes. I like it…very much. You’re—God, you’re fucking beautiful,” I whispered reverently.

He beamed and, without warning, launched himself at me.

I caught him with an oomph , sucking his tongue as he wrapped his legs around my waist. It would have been wisest to undress completely before attempting to waddle with my knees trapped in my khakis, but there was no way I was letting him go.

I held his bare arse, squeezing his flesh as I shuffled into the adjoining bedroom.

Good news, housekeeping had been in, so it didn’t look as if a hurricane had blown through. Bad news, my computer bag was where I’d left it, protruding from behind the bin next to the nightstand. Needless to say, I tripped over the bag and we both went flying toward the bed.

Winnie squawked and gasped for air when I landed on him like a wrestler taking an opponent out on the mat.

“I’m sorry. I?—”

He cut me off, smashing his lips to mine as he snaked his arms around my neck and pulled me in like an octopus. We rolled on the freshly made bed, batting pillows aside and losing excess clothing in between searing kisses. Except for the lace.

“I know this wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan, but you feel so good,” he hummed. “We don’t have to do everything. We can stop whenever you want. I just want to?—”

I covered his mouth with my hand and immediately let go to better pin him to the mattress. “More doing, less talking. ”

Winnie purred like a kitten. “Yes, sir. You can take them off now.”

“The lace stays. Don’t move a muscle.” I bit his jaw and hopped out of bed, naked.

I avoided the bathroom mirror as I rummaged through my toiletries. My reflection would only ruin the moment, and I didn’t want to take a chance that reality would interfere with this incredible dream. Things like this didn’t happen to men like me.

I grabbed the lube and a towel and at the last second, a condom too…just in case.

“ Mmm .” Winnie propped himself on one elbow, fingers sliding over the lace-covered bulge.

I set the supplies aside and climbed atop Winnie, scooting between his open legs. Then I stared in a mix of awe and appreciation. I know, I know…I was ridiculous and time was ticking, but damn it, he was gorgeous—sinewy and lithe with flawless, smooth skin. His raven hair fell like a curtain, partially shading his luminous eyes. And his lips…God, those lips might be my undoing.

Or maybe it would be the lace.

I massaged his inner thigh, brushing my thumb along the crease where lace met skin. “You look lovely.”

“So do you. Come closer. Let me touch your cock,” he cajoled like a siren.

“Not yet. Lie back and open up for me.” I was impressed with the note of authority in my voice. Lord knew it was an act. I was jittery and nervous but determined. I wanted this to be good for him. No regrets.

Winnie obeyed, spreading himself wide, a finger ghosting over his perfect pucker. “Like this?”

“Have I told you that you’re lovely? Possibly the most lovely man I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, go on,” he preened, chuckling lightly .

I glided a single digit alongside his, loving the sound of his low moan as I pushed the tip inside. Just a tease. “I want to lick you, taste you, make you come. Will you let me?”

“Y-yes. You can fuck me. You can?—”

“Shh. We’ll get there. For now, relax.” And with that, I bent to drag my tongue from his balls to the tip of his cock peeking out of his thong.

I sucked precum from his slit, then mouthed his thick shaft through the lacy barrier while gently probing his arse. I pushed my finger farther and continued my exploration, licking a trail from his V-line to his belly button. I traced the contours of his ribs with the tip of my tongue and laved his nipples, adding a second finger.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck…yes, so good, Alistair. Please,” he groaned.

I folded his knees to his chest and parted his cheeks. My nostrils flared in appreciation…and hunger. That was what this felt like—hunger, need, and unchecked desire. I trailed my tongue along the scrap of lace cutting him in half, then I pushed the string aside and kissed his entrance…with my lips and my tongue.

Tentative tastes gave way to something urgent and primal. I speared his opening and feasted like a savage, pausing occasionally to tease his ball sac as I finger-fucked him.

Winnie whimpered, slipping his hand under the lace to grip himself. I didn’t stop him. My concentration was focused on his hole…and on not coming too soon. I’d never been harder in my life. I tried not to rub against the mattress or his thigh, knowing I was an errant pump away from blowing my load.

He shoved at the lace and gave his pole a proper squeeze. And yes, I got greedy. I pulled the lace off altogether and tossed it aside. My fingers were in his arse again, my mouth on his cock. I sucked him to the root, bobbing up and down .

I released him, panting as I drank in the sight of him writhing beneath me, humming my name, begging me over and over, “Fuck me, Alistair. Fuck me.”

I rolled a condom on, lubed up, pressed my cock at his entrance, and slowly entered my lover.

Winnie was so tight, so hot, so…bloody perfect. I buried myself balls deep, my arms trembling in the effort to move with care.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

Winnie released a ragged breath and inclined his chin. “Now.”

He lifted to meet each thrust, demanding more as I rocked my hips steadily. Languid strokes gave way to frenetic fucking. The bedsprings creaked and the walls practically rattled with Winnie’s enthusiastic moans. His teeth in my shoulder, his fingernails clutching my arse, his legs wrapped around my waist.

Winnie was voracious and he wanted more, more, more. I delivered.

I kissed the inside of his calf, gripped his cock, and jerked him until he stiffened and trembled, crying out as his orgasm hit and cum jetted across his stomach.

I didn’t stop moving…I couldn’t. I held his ankles wide, pistoning faster and faster, chasing my release. When it hit, I was gone, floating somewhere on a cloud above us like a kite on a strong breeze. I didn’t ever want to come down from the high or let go.

Until Winnie grabbed my face and fused his mouth to mine. It was an exclamation mark of a kiss—an “I can’t believe we did that” and a “Wasn’t that the best thing ever?” sort of kiss.

Eventually, I collapsed beside him, gasping for air. My vision blurred and my limbs felt like spaghetti. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to move for twenty-four hours…or more. I ro lled to face Winnie, rescuing the towel I’d brought in earlier. I unfolded it and laid it across the mess on his belly.

“You bit me, you bloody vampire,” I chided without heat, pointing at my shoulder.

Winnie grinned and bared his teeth. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I?—”

He dove on top of me, smothering me with a hundred kisses. He stopped to fix my hopelessly smudged and crooked glasses, flashing a radiant grin that lit the room like a firecracker. “I’m a vampire, a werewolf, and a zombie all in one. A chupacabra .”

I laughed. “You know that means ‘goat sucker’ in Spanish, right?”

“ Yo hablo espa?ol ,” he huffed with attitude. “Okay, I don’t speak it well, but I understand it…mostly. And that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” I smiled fondly, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes.

“I’m fierce. Very fierce.”

“I know you are. I knew it the moment we met.”

Winnie beamed, sidling closer to lay his head on my chest and push his foot between my legs. “Thank you.”

I wrapped a tentative arm around him and kissed his temple. “Is this…cuddling?”

“It is.”

“ Hmm . I like it.”

“Me too, Professor. Me too.”