Authors: Rhonda Helms

Break Your Heart (11 page)

BOOK: Break Your Heart

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“Whoa, really? Has that been hard for you?”

He shook his head. “Not really. My parents discovered it early on, so we made accommodations for it as I grew up. It’s never inhibited me from doing what I want.”

Even through our gloves, I could feel his thumb caressing my hand. Like it moved of its own volition. Like he couldn’t bear to stop touching me. Something in my chest chipped away at that thought. It was hard to concentrate on the conversation when I wanted to sink into his touch, feel it all over. “I knew a guy in school who was fully color-blind,” I said. “He saw everything in shades of gray.”

He paused, deep in thought. “I can’t imagine how that would be. Even if I can’t tell reds and greens apart, I can still see all the other colors.”

“He used to wear crazy color combinations at school. People teased him until they realized he couldn’t differentiate them.” I smiled at the memory. “He was my first boyfriend, actually.”

We turned back toward East 9th Street, leaving the pier behind. The cityscape glowed with lights. Not a lot of foot traffic around since it was brisk outside.

“I bet you were cute as a kid,” he said thoughtfully.

“I had a big mouth,” I said, and Nick laughed hard. “It’s true. It was always getting me into trouble with other kids. But I was never good at swallowing down how I felt or what I thought.”

“It’s one of the things I like about you.” He sounded so sincere, it made my heart swell. “You’re . . . you. You don’t pretend to be anything or anyone else. Your sincerity and honesty is refreshing. I think I told you that before.”

“You did.” I squeezed his hand. “But it doesn’t hurt to hear it again.”

For some reason, I thought of my mom. The pills I’d seen in her purse. I had a fleeting thought of asking Nick his opinion on the situation. He seemed pretty sensible. But I didn’t want to taint his view of my family, make him think something negative about her as his first impression.

Understanding hit me hard then, and everything stilled in my head. I was thinking about a future where I could introduce him to my parents. That both scared and elated me. Nick was crazy smart, clever, fun. I knew they’d like him, if they didn’t get hung up on the age difference.

Or the fact that he was my professor. At least, for this semester.

The hurdles were big, but every moment with Nick was proving he was worth the risk. Did the fact that he was here now mean he felt the same about me?

Chapter 12

“H
ow do you feel about Vietnamese food?” he asked me. “There’s this great place several blocks up on East 4th. It’s a bit of a hike, though—we can take my car if you want.”

“Let’s keep walking,” I said impulsively.

“Aren’t you cold?”

I shook my head and squeezed his hand. I didn’t hide my feelings when I looked at him. I wanted him to know I was warm because of his being nearby. His answering smile said he got it.

As we neared Prospect, he stiffened a bit. I saw clusters of people around my age, walking and talking. And here it was—the problem we were going to face, assuming he wanted to keep seeing me.

The fear of getting caught.

He released my hand and gave me a sad smile. “Sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to . . . but I’m afraid if we run into someone we know . . .”

“I get it. It’s okay.” Though there was a pang of sadness in my chest. To battle off that feeling, I told myself this was just temporary. Once I graduated, things could be different.

But I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I couldn’t wait that long to be with him, no matter what I’d told myself before. And it seemed he couldn’t either.

So we would be patient, careful. Quiet. The price we paid to be together.

Nick and I made small talk as we wove down the sidewalk through the large buildings on our way to 4th Street, a popular hangout with restaurants and bars galore. When we turned into the blocked-off district, I smiled at the bright lights strung in front of the buildings.

“Here it is,” Nick said, waving toward the right side. Saigon. The warm glow inside looked inviting.

“I’ve heard of this place but haven’t been here,” I said excitedly.

“I think you’ll like it.”

We walked inside. He held the door open for me and ushered me in. I felt his hand ghost along my lower back for just a second, and then the contact was gone before I could savor it. Our booth was near the back, giving us privacy to talk.

I slipped my coat off, slid into my side of the booth and felt a bit of nervous tension loosen in my muscles. I hadn’t realized I’d tensed up in concern over someone we knew spotting us.

Yeah, if we met again, we’d have to make sure it was in a low-populated area. Which led me to a random question I’d been wanting to ask.

“You said before that you just bought a house, right? Where is it? Tell me all about it.”

Nick unwound his scarf, stripped off his coat and took the seat across from me. With his hair sexily mussed and his eyes bright from the winter cold, he looked unbearably hot. I wanted to reach over and lick his neck, bite his jaw. Feel him shudder and tighten in arousal, the way I did whenever he touched me.

Or even when he looked at me sometimes.

“It’s in Parma, so it isn’t far from campus. It’s a small bungalow, big enough for me and my dog.”

“You have a pet? What kind? Boy or girl? What’s its name?”

He laughed at my exuberance. “I have a golden retriever. Her name is Gloria, and she’s my old doggie—at least ten years old. I got her from the pound while I was in grad school. She was this dopey, slobbering pup who whimpered every time I passed by her, and I knew she was the one for me.”

The waitress came by and took our drink and appetizer orders. We decided to split a bottle of white wine. A totally unpretentious label, according to Nick.

“I always wanted a pet,” I told him with a sigh when our waitress left. “My dad is allergic to dogs, and my mom was too uptight about having pet hair all over the place.”

“Can’t you have pets in your apartment?”

“I can have a cat . . . but with a roommate, I didn’t want to assume someone else would be okay with it.” Although since Casey was moving out soon, maybe I could get a cat. Might keep me from being lonely. Because I wasn’t so sure I wanted to have another roommate come in there. No other person was going to fill her space—either in my house or in my heart.

“Your eyes just got sad,” he murmured.

Without going into too many details, I mentioned how Casey’s struggle to open up to others and let people into her life had moved me, changed me. How she’d fallen in love and they were serious.

“I’m going to miss her.” I was surprised to find my throat closing up. Thankfully, the waitress brought our wine then, so I was able to nip from the glass. He was right—it wasn’t that bad. Not as sweet as the wine my mom usually bought. “The place won’t be the same when she leaves.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” he said. Sipped his wine and tilted his head to look at me.

I shook my head. “I think we’re lucky to have each other. I just hope her moving out doesn’t change things between us.”

“I get that. I mean, it’s likely going to, to some degree—your relationship will evolve since you won’t be living together. But it doesn’t sound like it’ll fade away. She obviously cares about you, and I doubt she’ll let you go. If she has that hard of a time opening up, I imagine she makes friends for life when she does.”

His words soothed my heart. He was right; it was going to change. But that didn’t have to be bad.

“Thank you,” I said. “I hadn’t realized that was bothering me so much until I just now started talking about it with you. You’re very easy to talk to.”

He made a face. “I don’t think most people would say that about me.”

“Why not?” The idea baffled me.

“Because I’m nerdy and talk too much about my job.”

“So am I. Math is amazing—why wouldn’t you want to gush about it?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Also, I’m the youngest tenure-track professor on campus, so most of the professors think I’m a student.”

“I’m young too. And obviously the other profs are idiots,” I stated.

He grinned. “I need to keep you around.”

Yes, you do.
The thought flew right into my mind. Our appetizers came to the table, and I nibbled on a crispy spring roll dipped in sweet sauce.

With a moan, I licked a bit of sauce that had dribbled onto my finger. “God, that is amazing.”

His eyes darkened and he fixed his gaze on my finger, sliding out of my mouth. I could practically feel the heat radiating off him. “You’re driving me crazy, Megan,” he whispered.

That got my pulse flying. My lips parted of their own volition, and my chest rose and fell with my shallow breaths. I took a big swig of wine in an effort to assuage my sudden thirst.

His foot bumped mine under the table. I stretched my leg out and rubbed my calf against his. The vein at his temple throbbed, and he kept those hot eyes locked on me.

“I want you,” I told him in a breathy voice just over a whisper. I’d told myself I wasn’t going to rush into this with him. That I was going to go slow and steady.

But my body was screaming for him to touch me, lick me. Right. Now.

“You’re killing me,” he said with a groan. The heat from his leg burned into me. I nudged my other leg over to pin his between mine, and he sucked in a deep breath. “I didn’t ask you to meet me for this, you know. I just wanted to be around you.”

That admission made my body flame with even more desire, as crazy as it sounded. To know he didn’t just see me as a booty call . . . to know he was just as affected by this thing between us as I was.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said on impulse. “Go somewhere quiet.” Where we could be alone to explore this thing between us.

He stilled. I could see the anguish on his face, his desire warring with indecision about this being a bad idea. But I didn’t want him to think. I wanted him to
feel
.

I reached across the table and stroked his fingers. A long, deliberate motion so I could feel the knuckle, the bone, the skin. He just sat there, his only movement the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Then he flipped his hand over and his middle finger caressed my palm. I shivered at the delicate sensation as my nerves danced to life.

“Megan,” he began in a rough voice.

When I lifted his hand and sucked that middle finger into my wet mouth, his whole face, his whole body, tensed. I swiped my tongue along the knuckle and saw his pupils flare. My core tightened in response.

“Okay, we’re going. Now,” he ground out. He pulled his hand back from between my lips, dug into his wallet and fished out some money. Tossed it on the table, then grabbed my hand and tugged me out of the booth. His grip was tight; I could sense need shimmering off him.

Without saying a word, I threw on my coat, grabbed my purse and followed him out of the restaurant. The cold couldn’t penetrate my body, which was pulsing like an exposed nerve. He kept a firm hold on my hand, obviously not thinking about who could see us.

I didn’t fight it. I was almost dizzy with relief and excitement.

The walk back to the parking lot was at a fast clip. Neither of us broke the silence until we reached the rows of parked cars, because what we were feeling went beyond words.

“My car is over here,” I finally said, and pointed my free hand down the row. My voice was hoarse. “Where are you?”

He spun me toward him, took my mouth in a possessive kiss that ended way too fast, then pulled away. “I’m down the row near the end. Where is your phone?”

I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him.

Nick loaded up my maps app and typed in his address. “In case you lose me.”

“I’m not gonna lose you,” I said breathlessly. As if.

His mouth quirked. “I think we already established who the speed demon was here, didn’t we?”

I raised a brow. “And yet, I have a feeling you’ll be driving slower to make sure I can keep up with you.”

With that, his eyes grew molten. He stroked a finger down my cheek. “Let’s see who can keep up with whom tonight, shall we?”

I shivered; it had nothing to do with the cold. My nod was my answer.

He walked me to my car and saw me safely in, then strolled to his. I warmed up my engine, waiting for him to show. Finally he was just in front of me, and I pulled out and followed him out of downtown Cleveland.

The ride to his place in Parma was torture. My whole body pulsed with this deep need for him. Everything I’d been fantasizing about for a week was about to come true. Nick would be on top of me, naked, and inside me. . . .

I gripped the steering wheel and steadied my hands. A sudden nervous fear clenched my stomach. God, what if he was talking himself out of it right now? Maybe I should have ridden with him. If I showed up there and he turned me away, I really was going to die. I couldn’t face rejection from him, not now.

Not when I was feeling so much, so fast, so strong.

After twenty minutes and two highways, we headed toward his exit. My heart thudded when we turned right onto a quiet side street. A few blocks up, he turned into a driveway on his left. I followed him and turned my car off.

He hopped out of his car, so I did the same. My stomach was a painful ball in my torso as I waited to see what he would say or do. In the darkness, I couldn’t see his face.

He got a foot or so away from me, peering down, his expression inscrutable.

I kept my chin high in the air. If he turned me away, I wasn’t going to show him how much it would hurt—both my pride and my feelings. I’d just get in my car, drive home . . .

“Come in with me, Megan,” he said, and that hard knot dissolved.

His fingers threaded through mine, and I followed him up his porch stairs into his brick bungalow.

BOOK: Break Your Heart

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