Dear Sir, I'm Yours (23 page)

He clutched her hard against him, his arms squeezing off her air, but she didn’t care.

“Rae.” His voice was rough, his breathing ragged. “Darlin’.”

“How’d you know where I was?”

He set her down, firmly disengaging her arms from around his neck. Then he went to his knees in front of her and buried his face against her chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“Forgive me, please. I won’t touch you again until there’s not a hint of fear in you, I swear it. I won’t even kiss you. Just come back. Give me a chance.”

Stunned, she stroked her fingers through his hair. It tore her up to hear the emotion shredding his voice. Regret, agony, guilt. For a man like him to beg…

Then it hit her. He thought she’d run. Again.

“Conn, I love you.”

He made an agonized sound against her, his fingers digging into her back.

“I didn’t break my promise to you.”

Slowly, his head came up. She took the dark glasses away so she could see the thunderstorm brewing in his gaze. His face was so hard, lines and chasms put there by her.

Tears burning in her eyes, she stroked her fingers over his face, trying to smooth away the hurt. “I didn’t run.”

“You’re not at Beulah Land. You’re not in my bed.”

“Miss Belle told me to take the weekend off.”

Irritation flashed across his face. “The old battleaxe wouldn’t tell me a word. I finally had to call Mason and brave Google to find your address.” Shaking his head, he smiled. “You were coming back?”

“Of course.” She smiled back wobbily. “You actually got on the internet?”

“I even checked my e-mail,” he replied, his tone flat with disgust and self-depreciatory humor. Then his manner turned solemn once more. “What about last night?”

“I had a talk with her, and she helped me see things in a different light. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

His face softened. “I found your purse when I called your cell phone. I wouldn’t normally go through your things, but I was desperate. I read your letters.”

“Oh.” Flushing, she dropped her gaze and swallowed hard. He knew everything, then.

Which was good, really, but she’d rather he didn’t know the truth. “I was afraid I’d be too weak to tell you no.”

“You won’t have to tell me no.” His fingers settled beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “I will never hurt you like that. I won’t allow you to slip there, darlin’. I’ll hold you safe and unhurt, I swear it.”

“You don’t…regret it? That I can’t—”

“Absolutely not. The only reason I even tried it was because you needed to be filled up, tight, and well, that was the quickest way I could meet that need without breaking my word and opening my pants. I know better now.”

“Richard liked it.” Her voice was fragile, but she had to make sure. “If you—”

“I don’t need it. I don’t even want it. I want you, Rae, however you’ll take me.”

She frowned, worrying her lip. “I don’t like being afraid of anything, not even with you.

Especially with you.”

His hands dipped lower, gently kneading her backside. His mouth curved in that seductive little smile that said he was bad, so very bad. “As long as you don’t object to fondling,” he gripped her ass harder, pulling her pelvis tighter against him, “and the occasional spanking, I won’t ever touch you like that again. I won’t ever take you to that limit again unless we’ve discussed it thoroughly beforehand, outside of bed.”

She played with the collar of his white Oxford shirt, tempted to undo another button so she could kiss his chest. “I can live with that.”

His voice lowered to the slow, rumbling drawl. “However, if you decide someday that you want to rid yourself entirely of that fear, I’ll help you, slowly and carefully. With time and a great deal of care, I can make it not hurt, darlin’.”

Staring into his smoldering eyes, she thought maybe, just maybe, he might be right. She leaned down and lightly brushed her mouth across his. “So you were tempted to break your word, huh?”

“Hell yeah. I wanted to be inside you so bad I hurt. To hear you ask for me—” He shuddered, his hands convulsing on her butt again. “When you told me to take you to Beulah Land, it was all I could do not to drag you tight against me and hold you until you changed your mind.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed the time.”

“I know, darlin’.” He stood up and hugged her. “Take all the time you need. So Miss Belle knew all along that you’d worked things out in your mind, and she still led me around like a bull with a ring in my…er…nose. If she wasn’t my grandma, I’d be pissed. She even made me promise to give you this and beg you to use it on me.”

Forcing a solemn look on her face, Rae took the parasol and hefted it, testing its weight.

“Indeed. So if I whack you a few times with it—”

He bent back down to retrieve her stupid white purse she’d gone off and forgotten again.

“Just remember my promise to you, darlin’.”

Very deliberately, she slapped him on the ass with it. “I’m counting on it.”

Whirling around with a growl, he seized her hand raising the parasol for another strike.

“Miss Jackson, I expect you to report to my office as soon as we get home.”

“Yes, sir, Dr. Connagher.”

Yanking the handle out of her hand, he threw the parasol into the back seat of his car.

Eyes narrowed, he stepped in closer, holding her gaze while he slammed the car door shut.

She bit her lip, wishing she had a big mouthful of his muscled chest gripped in her teeth about now. “My, my, Dr. Connagher, you’re looking quite dangerous. Are you sure you want to meet my parents?”

“That depends.” In a flash, he picked her up, turned, and leaned her back against the car.

His thigh crept up between hers, higher, harder, until he pressed firmly into the vee of her thighs. “Are you going to come for me?”

“Right now? Here?”

He nodded, his eyes dark. His rock-hard thigh ground against her and her eyes rolled back into her head. Burying one hand in her hair, he bent her harder against the car and kissed her, tongue sliding deep, commanding her response.

And she gave it, willingly. It poured up out of her, sweet pleasure rolling through her, crashing like waves on the shoreline. He rumbled appreciatively and drew her up off the car.

Her legs trembled, so he wrapped his arm around her waist to help her walk.

“I still get to spank you.”

“That was the general plan,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing.

They walked up the front steps together, but Conn hesitated at the door. He leaned against the wall for a minute, dropping his head back. He let go of her completely and breathed deeply, eyes closed. “Give me a minute, darlin’. I don’t want to meet your father with a hard-on. If you love me, I could use a distraction.”

“Mom’s a much better cook than Miss Belle. We’re having pot roast, potatoes, and carrots. I’m not as good a cook as her, far from Samantha’s caliber, but I wouldn’t starve. I even made a cobbler.”

Uh-oh. Probably not the best topic. She rushed ahead. “Uncle Frank is coming with my aunt and younger cousin, Kari. She’s looking at colleges and I’ve been trying to get her to visit Drury. Maybe you can intrigue her into applying.”

“I’ll be happy to speak to her. What kind of cobbler did you make, darlin’?”

She winced. “Cherry.”

“Shit.”

***

Rae’s father might be a crippled invalid, but Conn recognized the hard gleam in the man’s eyes. His own father had possessed that iron inner core until the day he died.

She led Conn across the deck where both her parents sat. “Daddy, Mom, this is Dr.

Verrill Connagher, my English professor from Drury.”

Bending down, Conn took the older man’s trembling outstretched hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jackson.” He looked back over his shoulder and winked at her. He couldn’t resist a little teasing, especially since she’d told them his hated first name. “I’m afraid I’m a rather demanding taskmaster, but she did well in my class. Rae is an excellent student. In many ways.”

She blushed so red she actually swayed. Her mother made a small noise—laughter, Conn thought, noting the brightness of the woman’s eyes—and covered her mouth with her hand.

Daddy squeezed his hand but didn’t let go. In fact, he tugged Conn down to look into his eyes. “Conn.”

He nodded solemnly.

“Love Rae?”

He let all the emotion blaze in his eyes. “More than life itself.”

In response, Daddy’s eyes hardened and he frowned. Conn felt a twinge of worry, until he realized the older man was simply concentrating very hard, struggling to speak. “Dick. Hurt.

Her.”

Conn let a smile twist his mouth that he knew betrayed his nice polite professor mask that he typically wore in public. “If Dick ever tries to lay a hand on her again, I’ll kill him.”

By the low, flat threat of menace in his voice and the hardness in his eyes, he knew both her parents understood that he meant it. Rae’s mother visibly relaxed, her eyes shining suspiciously. He could only imagine how much they’d worried that their asshole ex-son-in-law might try to hurt her again, and there was nothing they could do to protect her.

Daddy let go of his hand and patted his shoulder. “Good.”

“He’s back,” Rae whispered.

Conn jerked upright, turning to search her face. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering a little, so he quickly drew her close, offering the heat and protection of his body.

“He’s been harassing my parents, and this morning, I found a nasty note in my truck. I don’t have proof that it was him, but who else would bother me?”

“It’s him,” Conn agreed grimly. It sounded like he’d get his chance to teach the bastard a lesson in how to treat a woman after all. “Did you date anyone else after you divorced him?”

“No.”

He smiled at the adamant refusal in her voice and face. He’d read her letters; he knew who she’d been thinking and dreaming about all those years, which eased some of the vicious ache he’d carried in his heart. “That’s why he’s back. Don’t worry about Rae, Mr. Jackson. I’ll take care of the little p—”

He hesitated out of respect for her family.

Fortunately, Daddy knew exactly what to say. “Pussy.”

Conn choked back a laugh. “Well, I was going to say prick, but that’ll do.”

Dear Dr. Connagher:

My divorce was final today. It’s four years to the date since I was supposed to meet you.

Ironic, isn’t it?

Four years since I took your class, since I studied so hard for you. I can’t read poetry
without remembering you. Four years since I tempted you to break that sacred student-professor relationship. But you didn’t, did you? Not you. You had too much self control to
succumb to a twenty-one-year-old silly girl with a crush.

Four years since I took your final. Four years since that last day in your office. What
would my life be like now if we’d met the next week like you planned? Would I be happy,
knowing what kind of man you are, knowing what I know now? Would I sip coffee with you in
the morning, smiling and kissing you goodbye, reading poetry to you at night—only to let you
hurt and humiliate me in your bed?

Fearing you’d turn me into a happy little mindless slave, I escaped you, only to end up
bitter and angry, trapped in marriage to someone as controlling as you. He hurt me, too,
Conn, both physically and mentally. But he didn’t hurt me nearly as good as you.

Nobody has ever made me feel like you did that day. God help me, I still want you. I still
need you.

Do you even remember me? I wish I could remember me. The blushing girl who came
into your office that last day of the semester to flirt with you in a white mini-skirt. I’m going to
try and find that girl again, but deep down in my heart, I know the truth. Richard killed her,
and that Rae is long gone.

Grieve for her, Conn, because she died loving you. The biggest regret of her life was
leaving you.

~ Rae

Stirring, Rae stretched, wincing at the kink in her side from lying over the console. It was worth it, though, to get her face on his chest.

“We’re almost there.”

She turned into his embrace, rubbing her face back and forth across his shirt. “You made quite an impression on my family, Dr. Connagher. Kari took one look at you at dinner and leaned over to ask me if you really were a professor. I think she’ll be searching for her very own hunky English professor very soon.”

His chest rumbled beneath her ear. “Hunky?”

“You’re far from the normal everyday sort of English professor. No tweed jacket. No pipe.”

“I do burst into poetry at the most inopportune moments.”

Yeah. Like when he was licking up the side of her thigh. “Otherwise, I’d never know you were an English professor.”

“No? Maybe you should see me sitting for hours wading through terrible Freshmen papers slaughtering poor Mr. Shakespeare.”

“I’d love to.” She tried to keep her voice light, but her heart felt swollen, filling her chest with longing.

“Well, Miss Jackson, I just happen to have some composition books stacked up on my desk. After I spank you for hitting me with that damned parasol, you can watch me torture myself to your heart’s content.”

He made the final turn toward Beulah Land, slowing the car.

“Keep going,” she whispered.

“Rae—”

“Take me home, Conn.”

He stopped in the middle of the narrow road, idling the Mustang before the iron gates.

Turning toward her, he cupped her face in both hands, staring into her eyes. “If you come home with me, I’m taking you to bed, and if I take you to bed, you’re staying with me. Miss Belle will have to find someone else to sleep in her guestroom because you’ll be sleeping with me every night.”