Come Monday (3 page)

No use prolonging the agony.
She straightened her bag on her shoulder and knocked.

“Come in,” his deep voice beckoned. She shivered at the sound and wondered how in the hell she’d make it through this meeting without ripping her clothes off and throwing herself on his desk.

Opening the door, she stepped inside, tentatively hovering on the threshold. He looked up from the stack of papers before him and offered her that too-gorgeous smile.

“You’re right on time, Keira. I like that.”

She nodded and smiled tremulously. One glance at his handsome face and her body was already staging its own show. A quick glance down proved her nipples were rock hard and poking through her cotton blouse. As she started across the room, she felt an unfamiliar stickiness between her legs. Christ. She was soaking wet.

“Please shut the door,” he said, after she’d only gone two steps. She turned to close the door with a shaking hand and cursed her weakness. She was running on empty and seriously wishing she’d gotten some sleep.

As she approached the desk, she stopped and stared briefly at the smooth surface.

For a moment, her dream of lying facedown upon it drifted back and she felt a rush of heat flush her cheeks. Mercifully, Professor Wallace didn’t seem to notice her distress.

“I trust you brought your past assignments.”

19

Mari Carr

She nodded and reached into her bag, pulling out the endless stack of C papers she’d accumulated over the semester.

“I thought we’d begin by looking at the very first paper you wrote for my class again. I believe it was the one-page description of a special place.” She shifted through her essays, recalling her dismay at discovering a C-minus on her first paper. Little did she know the trend would continue for weeks on end. She’d been pleased with her description of the restaurant and sure the paper would receive an A. Finding it in the stack, she handed it to him.

“Ah yes. You wrote about your family’s restaurant, Pat’s Irish Pub. An interesting choice.” He looked down as he spoke and she remained silent as he briefly skimmed her writing. “This is the family restaurant where you work.” She nodded. She’d yet to speak a word, too afraid her voice would betray her nervousness, her agitation.

“Tell me why you chose the restaurant as your special place.” She considered his question for a moment, wondering how much she should share.

She shrugged. “I suppose I wrote about it because I’ve spent so much of my life there.” He frowned and she sensed he wasn’t happy with her answer. “I’ve lived in the same apartment for twelve years. I wouldn’t choose it as my special place merely because of its familiarity.”

Twelve years. Again, she tried to guess his age. If he began teaching at twenty-two, he could be as young as thirty-four. He cleared his throat and she shook herself, aware he was waiting for her response.

“The restaurant is more than just a home to me.” The moment he’d issued the assignment, she’d known she would write about the restaurant. It was the first place she’d thought of.

“What is your major, Keira?”

20

Come Monday

She sucked in a breath at her name on his lips. Why did the mere sound of it run through her like a tornado-force wind?

“I’m a business major.”

“That makes sense,” he replied with a nod.

“I don’t understand.”

He grinned. “In my experience, business majors tend to cut to the chase. They are rather no-nonsense kind of people.”

She thought he’d described her well. She also knew he didn’t consider his words to be a compliment.

“Your description of the restaurant is very factual, very observant, very boring.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s detailed and accurate.”

“Close your eyes, Keira.”

Her voice seized up as she considered his request. When she was able, she muttered one question. “Why?” Her heart raced at the idea of leaving herself even a tiny bit vulnerable in his presence.

“I want to do an experiment.” He waited and she realized that refusal would be futile. Professor Wallace was a man who didn’t take no for an answer. That thought sent a fresh round of juices to her already-drenched panties and she squeezed her legs together to fight the onslaught.

He quirked his eyebrow and she slowly closed her eyes.

“Describe this room.” She started to open her eyes but he halted her. “With your eyes closed.”

She struggled to remember what any part of the room looked like. She’d been so preoccupied with the office’s lone inhabitant that she’d failed to truly look around. The only piece of furniture that seemed vaguely familiar was the desk, and even then, only from her rather raunchy fantasies.

“There’s a desk in the middle of the room,” she said at last.

21

Mari Carr

His light chuckle sent her hackles up and she forced herself to try to think of more.

“There are bookshelves on the wall.” Which wall, she couldn’t recall.

“Stop relying on what you can see, Keira.”

She considered his suggestion and realized she could sense many things about the room. “It smells of leather in here. Leather and old books and,” she paused, sniffing the delicate odors, “your cologne.”

“Very good. What else?”

She turned her head slightly and was immediately struck by the silence. “I can’t hear anything. It’s remarkably quiet in here.”

He seemed to agree. “One of the reasons I hold my office hours so early. I relish the peacefulness. By this afternoon, the noise of all the students out in the hallway and on the campus outside my window will fill this room. You mentioned the desk. It’s right in front of you. Touch it.”

She bent forward, thankful her eyes were closed, praying he couldn’t detect the slight shaking of her hand.

“How does it feel?”

“Smooth,” she replied, running her hand along the surface. “And cooler than I would have imagined. It would feel cold against my cheek.” Her eyes flew open when she realized the strangeness of her remark.

Professor Wallace’s eyes were studying her intently.

She cleared her throat, anxious to fill the uncomfortable silence with noise. “I, um, I see what you mean.”

He nodded slowly and she wondered if he’d question her comment.

“Close your eyes again,” he instructed. She complied, aware that the previous silence of the room was now filled with the unbearable loudness of her pounding heart.

“Describe your family’s restaurant. Don’t tell me what you see, Keira. That’s already in the paper. Tell me the rest. Tell me why this place is so special.” 22

Come Monday

Thankful he hadn’t questioned her observation about his desk, she envisioned the pub. “My family lives above the restaurant. I’m one of seven children so I suppose you can imagine it’s pretty crowded. My mother was the cook before she died and on special holidays, when the restaurant was closed, she’d go downstairs to the big kitchen to prepare our meals and we’d eat at the tables in the big dining room. Even though the restaurant was basically home, my mother always made it feel like we’d gone out somewhere special to eat.”

She paused for a moment, smiling as she recalled the extra effort her mother expended to ensure the holidays were always perfect for her children. The tablecloths, the candlelight, the grape juice served in fancy wineglasses that they all used to make toasts and laugh and pretend they were grown-ups.

Professor Wallace’s next question brought her back to the present. “I imagine the restaurant must have smelled lovely.”

She started to open her eyes to respond to his question but she realized that, without sight, there was a security, a safety in speaking her mind that didn’t exist when she could see his face. If she was looking at him, she would fail to concentrate on her subject and instead spend too much time trying to figure out what he was thinking of her recollections. She kept her eyes firmly shut.

“The smells were incredible, warm and sweet. I know Christmas can’t really have a smell, but in my mind, it does. Cinnamon, pine, fresh-baked bread.”

“And your mother?” he asked.

Keira smiled. “She had a smell too. Sugar cookies. My mother smelled like sugar cookies.” The memory, the brief burst of happiness at recalling her mother’s scent, turned quickly to the piercing sadness that had resided in her heart for nine years.

“What about the sounds in the restaurant?” he asked.

She sensed he hoped to return her to the joy of the scene, but it was gone. She opened her eyes and looked at him as she spoke.

23

Mari Carr

“My mother sang as she cooked. She had the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard.

Well, except for Teagan, my sister—she has my mother’s talent for singing.”

“Look at your paper, Keira.”

She glanced down at the page and briefly read her staid descriptions of the tables, chairs, bar. She’d spent nearly an entire paragraph describing the color and texture of the walls.

He tapped his finger on the paper. “The place on that paper doesn’t seem very special to me. The place you just described sounds like one of the nicest places on earth.

Write about that place.”

She looked up and nodded. “I understand.”

He grinned and, for the first time, she returned it. “There were two other assignments,” he picked up her stack of papers and flipped through it, “that would benefit from that same sort of description. Engage all your senses and rewrite these three papers. You can turn them in tomorrow morning when we meet again. Nine o’clock still okay?” He handed her the assignments and she mentally tried to figure out how in her busy schedule she was going to revise three assignments by tomorrow.

“Nine is fine.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said, and, dismissed, she turned to leave.

As the door closed behind her, Will sank down into his leather chair and tried to understand the grip this young woman had on him. He’d never been attracted to a student before, yet from the first moment she’d stepped foot in his class, Keira Collins had shaken his unwavering sense of self down to a pile of rubble. She’d destroyed his willpower and was systematically, unwittingly breaking down every standard, every principle he’d built his career upon.

Clasping his hands together, he wondered how in the hell he’d manage to keep his hands off her these next two weeks.

24

Come Monday

He’d been a damn fool to invite her to his office last night, and then outright insanity had claimed him as he’d extended the offer to work with her on her writing—

alone, every morning. He was tempting fate in the worst possible way. He was a teacher and he could not—would not—seduce a student. The fact she was older and far more mature than his usual pupils shouldn’t make a difference.

But Keira
was
different, very different. And in ways he suspected she didn’t even realize herself.

He prided himself on his ability to keep his intensely personal life just that—

personal. No doubt his colleagues at the college would be shocked to learn of his lifestyle off campus. A dominant lover, he worked damn hard to make sure the lines between his professional and personal life were kept clean, clear and distinct.

Keira was a true danger. He was walking a tightrope without a net and every step closer to her threatened to send him crashing to earth. He never approached women sexually outside his set of acquaintances because he knew there was no way someone untutored, unfamiliar with the practices of D/s could handle him in the bedroom. He confined his relationships to women who craved bondage, a strong hand, submission.

He wasn’t about to initiate a novice into that lifestyle.

Leaning his head back against his leather office chair, he closed his eyes and saw Keira’s lovely face in his mind’s eye. In his world she would be considered an innocent.

Regardless of her past sexual experiences—and he suspected even those were limited—

she wouldn’t understand his need to tie her up, spank her, control her.

Or would she? Her constant blushes, her reluctance to return his gaze—always keeping her eyes averted—screamed of a submissive nature. Most telling had been her comment about his desk. Had she imagined herself leaning over it, her cheek pressed against the cool surface? The image of seeing her in such a position sent a surge of blood to his already full cock as he played the scene out in his mind.

25

Mari Carr

He would command her to remove her pants—dammit, he hated jeans, and yet on her, the denim clung to her soft curves in such a way that made his fingers twitch at the thought of peeling the material off her.

Once she was bare from the waist down, he’d gently push her forward over his desk…

She gasped at the feeling of the cool wood against her delicate cheek.

“Do you want me?” he asked.

“God, yes,” she hissed.

“I’m going to take you, Keira. Fuck you. Make you mine.”
She moaned softly at his words, her palms pressing tightly against the desk. As he slowly
entered her tight pussy, he slapped her lovely ass, surprised by her response. Pushing toward
him, she silently begged for more as he bent over her back, covering her slight frame with his
larger body. “I’m going to fuck you hard and you’re going to come for me—several times. Do
you understand?”

She nodded.

“Say it out loud, Keira. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me hard,” she whispered. “Spank me.”
Resting his head on her shoulder, he tried to process her request.

She would accept his spanking, his powerful thrusts, and he couldn’t wait to introduce her
to even more. How would she respond to bondage? He pushed his cock into her tight sheath.

“Yes,” she whimpered as he began to thrust inside her faster, harder. The sound of his thighs
pounding against hers as loud as—