Текст книги "Playing with Trouble"

Автор книги: Chanel Cleeton

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Nine

Rumor has it Blair Reynolds has moved on. Just who is her mystery man?

—Capital Confessions blog

Gray

Fuck.

A better man would have said no. I should have said no.

I kissed her instead.

The second she said the word, please, I gave her what she wanted and I’d craved since I’d first experienced the nirvana of her mouth on mine.

If I was going to hell for this one, then I was sure as fuck going to enjoy the ride.

I moved closer, our bodies just inches apart, hers throwing off heat like a fucking furnace. I allowed my gaze to drift from her pretty brown eyes, down her elegant neck, to the vee of her cream-colored sweater, her tits the perfect handful. For a moment I imagined the weight of them, fantasized about rubbing my thumbs over her nipples, rolling them between my fingers, watching them stiffen from my hands and mouth.

Her nipples were visible through her thin sweater, two tight points begging to be touched. I groaned at the sight, the tenuous thread of self-control I’d clung to, shredded.

This was what I had wanted all along, the image that had kept me company on the nights when all I’d had was my hand and a desire that couldn’t be quenched. This was the fire she’d started the first moment she’d kissed me.

I kissed her, or maybe she kissed me; I didn’t even know anymore. We both moved, and our lips collided, and the taste of Blair exploded in my mouth. Somehow I reined in the desire to consume and replaced it with the need to be the best she’d ever had. As hard as it was to resist the urge to rush, her words hit me hard.

I want to feel what it’s like to be kissed by a man who wants me.

This wasn’t about me; it was all for her. So I gave her weeks of want and need with my lips and my tongue.

And then she kissed me back with everything she had, and fuck, slow went out the window.

Blair

Any nerves I might have felt disappeared as soon as his mouth touched mine.

His lips were firm, commanding me to open, luring me in with a stroke of his tongue, with the pressure of his teeth grazing my flesh.

More.

The first time we’d kissed, I’d caught him off guard. This time he was definitely prepared.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him forward, my mouth opening wider, my hands fisting in his hair, reaching for the connection I craved.

His hands stroked my back, holding me tight. I wanted him to slip beneath the fabric. Wanted more than just a kiss. He was quicksand, pulling me in deeper until I couldn’t move.

His hands were on my breasts, stroking my nipples through my sheer sweater. I arched my back, pressing myself into his palm, my skin burning up, wanting him to take my top off and put his mouth on me.

Fuck.

We had to stop. I didn’t want to stop. But we were in his car, in a middle school parking lot, making out like a couple of teenagers. And yeah, the windows were tinted, but still.

Somehow I managed to wrench my lips off of his as I slid back into my seat, away from his hands and his mouth.

A minute passed, and still the time did nothing to clear my head or give me any idea of where this was headed or where I wanted it to go.

Gray glanced down at his watch and winced. “We’re fifteen minutes late.”

I looked away, staring out the window, wondering what happened next.

“Blair.”

His voice groaned over my name, as if it hurt to speak it. That one word contained so much—regret, want, need.

“I’m sorry I did that,” I whispered, my voice cracking. I felt like crying, and I wasn’t sure if it was because we’d kissed, or because we’d stopped, or because he’d given me a glimpse of something I couldn’t have. I wasn’t even sure what I was sorry about.

“Don’t apologize. If anything, it’s my fault.”

I turned and stared at him, incredulous. He looked down at his hands, his jaw clenched.

“I’m pretty sure I was the one who asked you to kiss me,” I corrected. Begged him to kiss me. Practically jumped him.

He grimaced. “I’m your professor. I’m older. I know better. I’m a fucking mess, and believe me, you don’t need my shit.”

He was right. Those were all thoughts that had run through my mind at one point or another. But as soon as he said it, something inside me rebelled. My entire life people had told me how to dress, how to act, tried to tell me how I should feel. Not him. Not after that kiss.

“For starters, you’re a whole seven years older than me. And yes, you clearly have been through some things in your life, but who hasn’t. And it’s not like we’re getting married. I’m not asking you to love me forever, not asking you to be my boyfriend,” I replied, my tone dry. “It was a kiss. Okay, two kisses.” I swore I could still feel the imprint of his mouth on my lips. “You’re not going to make this something tawdry and cheap by pretending you’re some lecherous professor preying on a young, virginal student. I may have been having bad sex, but I’m far from a virgin.”

He swore under his breath. “And the part where I’m your professor?”

“Are you going to give me a higher grade because I kissed you?”

“No.”

“Okay, then. I’m not exactly worried about you taking it easy on me. You taking it easy on me would probably mean that you’d only call on me every other week.”

Silence filled the car.

“I’m going to have someone else grade your final exam. The dean is already planning on checking all of my finals since it’s my first time teaching, but I’ll get one of the other professors to read it as well. Sometimes professors get second opinions if a grade is on the line. I don’t want there to be any question of favoritism for either one of us.”

I knew he was right, didn’t know how Hannover would handle it if they found out. There were rumors about a couple of faculty members dating students, but they weren’t students they taught. And Gray was a new professor, it wasn’t like he had tenure or anything. I didn’t want to get him in trouble and I couldn’t afford to screw up my academic future.

The fall semester was over in less than two months and I wouldn’t have him for torts in the spring. Did it matter?

Gray’s voice got tight. “I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t want you. That I’m not hard as a fucking rock sitting here, imagining taking your mouth again. But this isn’t right. I don’t want to take advantage of you—”

Fuck that.

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” I answered, anger threading through my voice. “If anything, I’m the one who owes you an apology.” He looked at me like I had three heads. And just like that, my earlier regret fell away. “I’m not going to, though. I take it back,” I said, my voice going soft. “That was the best kiss of my life, hands down, no comparison. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sit here and bask in the fact that I made someone who looks like you kiss someone who looks like me, like that.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That you look like a bloodthirsty warrior on your nice days, and I mean that in the best possible way.”

“I don’t know what that means.” He choked the words out, his expression somewhere between pain and amusement.

“It means you’re hot in the kind of way that makes lady parts stand at attention. In a completely wild, unrestrained, sexy sort of way . . .” My voice trailed off.

“Jesus. And I thought you were shy.”

I couldn’t let that one slide either. “No, you didn’t.”

Another choking sound. “I didn’t?”

“No, you didn’t.”

I didn’t know what it was, but somehow I’d completely wrested control from him. He just sat there in the driver’s seat looking poleaxed.

Maybe it was anger that drove me. Or more than that, the desire to make him see me. Not as some fucking stereotype, but as a girl who liked having his hands and mouth on her. A girl who was done playing by the rules. A girl who was apparently courting trouble.

“Why do you call on me every week?”

He was silent for a long time, and I wondered if he was just going to ignore me, if I’d shocked him into silence. And then he spoke, and every single lady part of mine stood the fuck up.

“Your eyes.” He forced the words out. “Because when you looked at me, I saw the real you. The girl behind the polite smiles, and the knee-length skirts, and the clothes that should make you look like some sort of middle-aged society wife, but instead make me want to fuck you in nothing but pearls. White, gleaming, round. Shining against your tits.”

Oh my god.

My voice shook, but I still managed to get the words out. “You knew what I was and what I wasn’t.”

He nodded, his jaw tight as I pulled the admission from him.

“Then don’t make me something I’m not.”

Silence filled the car, neither one of us looking at the other.

“I’m not the hero here, Blair. You don’t want to believe that I’m a villain, fine. But don’t be stupid. I’ve done things you couldn’t imagine. There’s filth under my fingernails, and no matter what I do, I can’t get clean. I’m not a good guy. I grew up trash, and no amount of money will ever change that. Don’t try to make me your hero.”

God, his words slayed me. I didn’t find bad boys sexy, and there was nothing hot about the words coming out of his mouth. It was sad. So fucking sad. I didn’t see a dangerous guy in front of me, I saw a man who had been beaten down by his past.

Given what he’d told me, I couldn’t deny that he was probably responsible for most of what had transpired. I wasn’t sad for what he’d lost, but for the life he seemed to have resigned himself to. As if he didn’t deserve to be happy. And that was bullshit. I couldn’t fix him, and I didn’t want to; I had enough problems in my own life—

But in that moment, with that haunted look in his eyes, I decided to offer the one thing I could give.

I reached out, ignoring the tension coming off of his body which screamed, run. I clasped his face in my hands, holding it in place. He shuddered, his eyes slamming closed.

When I was a kid, my father had done a fundraiser at an animal shelter. It had been a photo op for the family—a chance to get pictures of me and Kate playing with our parents and cute puppies, ribbons in our hair.

There had been this one dog in the back, a mix of some sort, who had stayed huddled in the corner, terrified of the cameras and people. I’d coaxed it out with treats, my mother snapping at me to pose for pictures. I’d ignored her, all of my attention focused on that dog, until finally it came over and sat in my lap, and its entire body relaxed into me, as if the act of someone petting it, holding it, giving it the love it deserved, was all it had ever wanted.

That was what Gray reminded me of now, his face in my hands.

My heart ached as I pushed the words out of my throat.

“I’m not looking for a hero. In fact, I wouldn’t have much use for him if I found one. I’ve got the rescuing-myself thing down.”

His eyes opened, beautiful, beautiful brown eyes, framed by dark lashes. Gone was the arrogance, the edge that made me alternate between wanting to kiss him and scream in frustration. He looked at me like I’d just thrown him a lifeline.

I met his gaze.

Emotion swelled between us, nearly choking me, but I pushed the words out anyway, because he needed to hear them.

“You can make mistakes in your life. You can fuck up spectacularly. I’m not saying that the things you did weren’t destructive or hurtful to yourself or the people around you. I’m not even saying that they were okay.”

Pain filled his eyes. Pain and shame. And in that moment I realized how much it had cost him to tell me the things he’d done. To let me see the man behind the suits and the fancy law degree. He’d shown me his demons and at the time I’d thought he was warning me away. But now I understood. He’d given me the part of himself that hurt the most, the part that was broken.

Gray’s eyes closed as if he couldn’t take the moment between us, like a man who had been staring directly into the sun and needed to look away. But I didn’t let go. I held him in my hands.

“You can do bad things and still be a good man. Don’t let your past take that away from you. You can be more. You just have to try.”

His eyes opened, the pain and shame lingering there, a discordant note on such a proud man. For a moment, I wondered if my words had any effect at all, or if he really was the lost cause he claimed to be.

And then I saw it, shining through the cracks, tenacious, strong—

Hope.

Chapter Ten

With the election a little over two weeks away, all eyes are on the Reynolds family. Will Senator Reynolds keep his seat, or will the weight of his scandals bring his reelection bid crashing down?

—Capital Confessions blog

Gray

She’d gutted me. Utterly. Completely. Three days later, I still felt raw inside. It was like Blair had scooped everything out of me with each word that had fallen from her lips, with the touch of her hands on my face, the compassion in her eyes.

I’d thought she was dangerous before when she’d consumed my dreams and fantasies. My near constant arousal at the sight of her had at least been manageable. This was an ache my hand couldn’t erase.

You can be more. You just have to try.

I opened the door to the classroom, stepped over the threshold, and stopped in my tracks.

I hadn’t seen Blair since our school visit last week. I’d barely slept last night, wondering what it would feel like to see her after the kiss and the words she’d given me.

She sat in her usual seat, talking to the guy next to her who did crossword puzzles when he thought I wasn’t looking. Since he sat next to Blair, I was always looking.

Her hair was up in a high ponytail that swung when she spoke, falling in a cascade of brown silk. She was dressed casually in a pink sweater and jeans, but somehow she still managed to not look like everyone else. Everything about her outfit, her beauty, was pure class.

Usually when I saw her, my dick stood at attention. And like always, it did now. But not before I felt a pang in my chest, like someone had punched me over my pec.

And then her head turned, as though she knew, as if a string connected her to my heart.

Her smile hit me first.

She’d never smiled at me in class before, not even that first day. It wasn’t a big smile, just a small curve of her lips meant only for me. But fuck if it didn’t have my lips spreading, giving it back to her.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Just stood there smiling at her. A flush spread over her cheeks, and then I had to move, because I was standing in front of seventy-five students, wearing a suit, sporting some serious wood.

Fuck me.

I turned, praying my erection would go down, and fled to the safety of the desk at the front of the classroom. I rarely taught sitting, figured if I was going to make my students stand it was only fair that I did the same. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’d used this desk to hide several Blair Reynolds–induced hard-ons throughout the semester.

No wonder she’d looked at me like I was crazy when I’d told her I was worried I’d taken advantage of her. She led me around by my dick, and I was beginning to think she knew it.

I sat down in the chair, organizing my papers, commanding myself not to look at her. I cleared my throat, and then my head rose, and seventy-five pairs of eyes stared back at me.

“Welcome back. I hope everyone had a good weekend. Can anyone tell me the elements of battery according to the Second Restatement of Torts? Mr. Casimi?”

Blair

He didn’t call on me the entire class.

I didn’t know how long my reprieve would last, but for now I was eternally grateful. I wasn’t sure I was ready to stand in front of the class while he spoke to me. Not after everything.

The rest of the school visit had gone well, mainly because I’d done everything I could to keep from touching him or looking at him. It was so much harder to resist the impulse when I was a captive audience and he stood in front of me for an hour.

He had a seriously impressive collection of suits, and this one was no exception. Today’s ensemble was dark gray wool with a light blue dress shirt and a dark blue silk tie. The blues complemented his tanned skin and dark hair. Unfortunately, they also made me want to grab hold of his tie and make out with his mouth. For once, I envied Adam and his crossword puzzle. I needed the distraction.

A message from Caitlin popped up in my computer screen. Even though we technically weren’t supposed to, most people messaged during class. According to the syllabi in all of our classes, it was “prohibited,” but it was one of those things everyone ignored. I’d once seen Adam have the answer to a question our professor asked him messaged to him. I was pretty sure the professors turned a blind eye to it, but I was still too paranoid to chat. I’d gotten rid of some of my “good girl” tendencies, but old habits die hard and all that. But then I read Caitlin’s message and I couldn’t resist.

Is it just me or does Professor Canter actually look happy today? Bet someone got laid this weekend.

My cheeks flamed as I thanked the seating gods for organizing the room in an oval that faced the front. The last thing I needed was Caitlin seeing my reaction. She was right, he did seem happier today. Almost normal. And he’d smiled at me. Actually smiled.

My computer screen lit up with another message from Caitlin.

Bet he’s a beast in bed.

I closed my eyes, wishing I could unsee the entire conversation. After that kiss, I could definitively confirm that he would indeed be a beast in bed. And just like that, I was turned on. In fucking torts.

I didn’t answer her, wasn’t sure I trusted myself enough to even attempt a conversation on the subject of Gray’s sex life. Crap. Professor Canter. Had to remember to call him Professor Canter.

Oh fuck me, I was done.

I leaned forward over my desk, pushing my laptop back, resting my arms against the wood. My head came down as I barely resisted the urge to bang my head against the hard surface. I needed something to jar me out of a string of sexual fantasies, each one dirtier than the last.

The administration really should have done a better job vetting their professors. The vast majority looked like a cross between Santa Claus and an elf. That I got stuck with the teacher who was a panty-dropper was too cruel for words. At this point, passing the class at all would be a win.

I lifted my head from the desk, my gaze immediately connecting with Gray’s. He quirked a brow at me, and then I watched as his eyes flared with heat. Oh god. The look was only there for a second and then he shut it down, but a second was all it took for my body to react.

For me to want.

*   *   *

“What was up with Canter today?” Adam asked as we walked out of class. “I think he actually smiled at me when he walked into the room.”

I struggled to keep my face neutral, to steady my voice as I responded. To act like that smile hadn’t been for me.

“Really? I didn’t notice.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it was weird. He actually seemed normal.”

“Maybe he’s mellowing now that the semester’s halfway over,” I suggested, wanting to abandon this subject quickly.

Adam followed me to my locker where I dumped my torts book and grabbed the dreaded con law behemoth. They were both red, large enough to double as a deadly weapon if aimed at your head, and boring as hell. It was weird to have lockers at twenty-three, but I was pretty sure they did it to stave off the number of potential back injuries. With textbooks as big as these, lockers were necessities.

Adam waited as I switched out books for my next classes. He was close enough that I could make out the scent of his cologne. His blond hair was disheveled in a classically preppy way, his lanky frame clothed in khakis and a navy sweater.

He didn’t take his gaze off me the entire time I fumbled with my combination, each moment that passed making me a bit more uncomfortable.

I liked Adam a lot, but sometimes I worried that he looked at me differently than he did Caitlin and some of the other girls. Just like he was looking at me now.

He grinned at me, his dimples making him seem even younger. We were the same age, but something about him screamed “boy” rather than “man.”

“Do you want to grab dinner together one night?” He hesitated. “Just the two of us?”

And there it was. Inwardly, I winced.

I turned my attention from my locker and smiled up at him, hoping it would lessen the sting. “I think it would be okay to hang out as friends, but I’m not interested in dating right now. Thank you, though. I think you’re a really great guy, and I’m so glad we’ve become friends, but I’m not looking for anything more.”

I figured I couldn’t have sounded more awkward if I’d tried.

The dimples disappeared and his body stiffened, the easy way he’d slouched against my locker obliterated. “Sure.”

“I’m sorry.”

I was sorry. He was cute. Really cute.

And I wasn’t even kind of interested.

He nodded. “It’s cool. I’ll see you around, okay?”

I forced a smile. “Okay.”

I felt horrible. I didn’t mean to shoot him down; I just couldn’t see him as anything other than a friend.

I walked down the hall, headed in the opposite direction. I waved to a few friends from my section, weaving my way through the crowds to head to the faculty side of the building. I had a meeting with Gray to go over our first pro bono event.

I’d spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready for today, struggling to decide between dressing up or going for casual instead. I’d settled on a pair of my favorite jeans—Sevens that fit me like a glove—and a pink J.Crew sweater. I’d paired the outfit with ballet flats and my quilted Burberry jacket and spent fifteen minutes trying to fix my hair before I’d given up and thrown it in a ponytail.

We were friends. Just friends.

Friends spent an hour dressing for each other, right?

Right.