Lost in Light (6 page)

Professor Davis stood in front of a large canvas, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned to reveal his paint speckled undershirt clinging tightly to his chest and flat stomach. His hair, though still in its usual ponytail, looked wild as it swished back and forth across his back with his movements. An iPod and dock sat on one of the worktables across the room pumping out classic Blues.

He moved in time with the music, looking sinuously swaying from side to side as he applied one sweeping stroke after another, his strokes showing a confidence and conviction that I had never felt in my own art. He was unfettered by the pressure of class and students, free and wild in a way I had never seen before. I was utterly mesmerized by the sight of him, adrift in a flood of fantasies about running my fingers through his hair and tracing the paint splatters on his skin with my lips and teeth.

He was breathtaking.

My hand, continuing on its course, rapped clumsily against the door. The sound shattered the spell encompassing the room, and suddenly I felt like an interloper, intruding upon this small piece of sanctuary. I took a reflexive step backwards when he spun on his heel, his expression feral and heated, and for a moment I was unsure if he recognized me. After several breathless seconds he seemed to come back to himself. Setting his paint brush aside he wiped his fingers on a paint stained rag.

“Miss Parker,” he greeted, his chest heaving as he ran a hand over his hair. “Did you need something?”

“I err… was h-hoping I could talk to you.”

“Did you have a question regarding this weeks’ lecture?” he asked, the memory of the nude photographs he had displayed bringing heat to my face.

“Ah no,” I mumbled. “It’s about what happened last week.”

Instantly his face darkened, and he strode towards me with almost inhuman speed, his fingers curling around my shoulders like hot bands of steel as his eyes roved over me from head to toe.

“Has he touched you again? Did he hurt you? Tell me,” he demanded angrily, the fierce heat in his voice reminding me of that day and how he had threatened Jake, his words both scaring and arousing me.

“No, nothing like that!” I quickly reassured him, feeling my shoulders sag in relief as his face smoothed and the vicious anger faded from his eyes. “I actually wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Is that right?” he asked, releasing my shoulders and rocking back on his heels, his brows furrowed slightly in curiosity.

This was it. I was about to ask him to do the unthinkable. I was jeopardizing my education and future, and asking him to risk his career. But I knew deep down that this was the way it had to be.

“I want you to be my first,” I blurted, the words leaving me in a rush before I could back down.

“Your first what, Miss Parker?”

“My first… you know…” I faltered, vaguely gesturing to the space between us.

Realization dawned on his face, his emerald eyes widening in surprise.

“That’s…quite a favor,” he said with a humorless laugh. “I think perhaps we had better sit down and talk about this.” Running his hand over his hair he eyed me thoughtfully for a moment, and then switched off the iPod and he directed me to his open office.

Shutting the door behind us, Professor Davis moved around behind his desk to retrieve a packet of wet wipes from his top drawer and began removing the last traces of paint from his hands and forearms. Buttoning his shirt, he tucked it haphazardly into his pants though he left his shirt sleeves rolled up, the moist dark hair of his arms sticking up wildly.

“It is a rare occurrence for me to be at a loss for words,” he said by a wry smile. “But I must admit that you have done a spectacular job of leaving me speechless.”

“I’m sorry?” I ventured, unsure of what to say next. I had been so focused on asking my question that I had failed to consider that I might have to persuade him. After all, with the way he had been watching me,
flirting
with me, it had never occurred to me that he might say no.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, but I wonder if you have considered what you are asking. Ethical issues aside, you have recently suffered a traumatic event. Perhaps you had better take some time to think things through.”

“I have thought about this, I haven’t been able to think about anything else!” I said, my voice shrill and louder than I had expected. Pausing for breath I fought to calm my racing pulse, staring down at my hands clenched in my lap.

“I have thought about this. I can’t stand the thought of the memories of my first time being that jerk Jake and what he did to me,” I continued in a calmer voice, risking a glance at him, but his expression gave nothing away.

“Besides,” I muttered, dropping my gaze back down to my hands. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me.”

“And how have I been looking at you?” he asked, coming around his desk to stand in front of me. The scent of his cologne mixed with oil paint was a heady combination that made my thoughts fuzzy.

“I thought you… I mean, I…” I stammered, suddenly unsure and feeling the beginnings of humiliation swelling in my gut.

“You thought that I wanted you. That I imagine burying my hands in that fiery hair of yours, envision those delectable lips on my skin. That the thought of your supple body spread willingly beneath me makes my cock hard. Is that what you thought, Miss Parker?” he asked in a voice that set fire to my veins and turned my knees to jelly. The power of speech lost I could only nod wordlessly in reply.

“You did indeed think correctly,” he began, my heart lurching in my chest as if it would beat its way through my ribs to fall in supplication at his feet.

“However,” he added sternly, the arch of his brow telling me to rein in my buzzing hormones, “that does not mean that I intend to act upon these thoughts.”

For several heartbeats I was unable to speak, my mouth hanging open in shock, my mind a confused tangle of thoughts and feelings, all of them struggling for purchase through the fog of arousal.

“What?” I heard a high voice shriek, realizing seconds later that it was my own.

Clamping a hand over my mouth I spared a brief glance at his face, quailing beneath the look of dark amusement I saw there. Clearing my throat, I dropped my hands to my sides and more calmly said, “What are you saying, Sir?”

The imperceptible arch of his brow, and the smoldering look in his eye was not lost on me, but I was unsure why the simple question would garner such a reaction.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said smoothly, his voice all liquid desire and hidden heat, while his eyes flashed dangerously in the dim illumination of the lamp on his desk.

“Then show me,” I pleaded, my fingers twining in front of me.

“I am not like other men,” he said running a hand over his dark chestnut hair to capture the few wild strands that had escaped the tight ponytail. “My predilections are not entirely suitable for an innocent like you.”

“I-I don’t understand,” I stammered, watching as my hopes were being snatched away.

“No,” he replied firmly. “You don’t.” A glimmer of something dark and sinful in his eye made my heart pound all the more.

“So explain it to me!” I all but wailed, my cheeks flushing at the arch look he gave.

“It would be easier for me to show you, perhaps then you would understand what I’m really like,” he said darkly. His words were full of promise and something sinister that made hesitation claw at my gut, while intrigue fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird.

I couldn’t help the rogue thoughts that flickered to life in my mind. Would he be like Jake? Would he try to force himself on me too? Surely not, he had been so gentle after running Jake off, reserved perhaps, but still tender in his own way. At my nod he pushed the visitor’s chair back against the wall and sat on the edge of his desk. Assuming the same position from the other day, though now there was something wholly different in the way he carried himself, something that spoke of power and confidence.

“Put your things down by the chair,” he instructed flatly.

Swallowing thickly I obeyed, dropping my bag and jacket on the chair before coming to stand in front of him, my hands clasped over my stomach. I almost jumped back as he stood up, fast and fluid, his smirk and raised brow rooting me to the spot and making me flush anew in embarrassment. My will was tested again mere seconds later as he unbuckled his belt and withdrew it from his pants in a slow and teasing motion, his eyes never leaving mine as he set it on the desktop. With a crook of his finger he beckoned me forward until I stood so close to him that I could smell the faint fragrance of his cologne. It smelled almost sweet and creamy one moment, and then alternately musky and thoroughly masculine the next.

“Hold out your hands,” he commanded in a smooth tone.

Without hesitation I raised my hands in front of me and watched silently as he unbuttoned the cuffs of my shirt and rolled up one sleeve to my elbow and then the other, baring my wrists and forearms.

“Now turn around.”

A small swelling of fear rose in my stomach as I moved to obey. I could feel his gaze on my back, heavy and heated as his eyes roamed over me. His touch upon my arm startled me, and I let out a small squeak of surprise, embarrassment washing through me at his quiet laugh. His fingers were warm and soft as they stroked the skin from my wrist up to my elbow and back down. I bit my lip as he repeated the gesture on my other arm, up and then down slowly, before grasping both of my wrists and guiding them behind my back. I turned slightly to look at him over my shoulder, my hesitation no doubt written all over my face.

“Eyes front,” he said, the severity of his frown made me instantly turn back around and stare straight ahead at the closed office door.

One large hand encompassed both my wrists, his strong fingers curled around me in a firm grip. I could hear the soft sound of leather sliding against wood as he picked up his belt from the desktop, and was shocked beyond comprehension when he looped the leather around my wrists and pulled it tight.

“I’m not so sure about this…” I began to say.

“Silence, Miss Parker,” he said sharply, cutting me off. “You wanted to know what it was like to be with me, and I am endeavoring to show you. Do you want me to stop?”

Did I?

I shook my head slowly, though my mind felt clouded and I was filled with uncertainty.

“Very well, let us continue. And if you dare to speak out of turn again I will be forced to silence you. Do you understand?”

Nodding, I swallowed loudly and took a deep breath to steady my nerves.

“Good girl,” he purred at my ear, his breath soft and warm as it caressed my skin, the long line of his body a wall of heat at my back even though he wasn’t touching me. His fingers ghosted along my arms, starting at my tense shoulders and gliding all the way down to my bound wrists, tickling the soft underside of my arms.

“So soft,” he murmured appreciatively as his fingers danced along my bare skin, bringing goose bumps to the surface. I stood dizzy, barely daring to breathe lest I break the spell, as his hands moved to my back.

“I like your hair like this,” he added as he gripped my thick braid, tugging lightly to pull my head backwards, exposing the length of my throat.

“Th-thank you,” I whispered, my pulse hammering in my throat, my eyelashes fluttering against my cheeks.

“Quiet, Miss Parker. I won’t tell you again,” he rumbled into my hair, the heat of his exhalations sliding over my skin, making me shudder in a mixture of excitement and fear. And then he was gone, stepping backwards to leave a cold expanse at my back.

I waited for several silent moments, my heavy breaths the only sound in the room as he stood behind me, watching me. I felt nervous under his gaze, shifting from one foot to the other as I waited for him to do something. I sighed aloud in relief as he came around into my field of vision, his steps slow and measured, the deliberate sound of his boots striking the floor making my pulse jump.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asked in a silken voice, his tone deceptively calm.Remembering his warning not to speak I nodded my head slowly.

“Good,” he smiled softly as he came to stand in front of me, his eyes smoldering as he looked down into my face as if searching for something. Whether he found what he was looking for I wasn’t sure as all rational thought fled my mind seconds later when he undid the top button of my shirt.

I was transported back to the photo lab and Jake’s eager fingers tugging at my clothes. A harsh breath whistled between my teeth as I bowed my head and squeezed my eyes shut against the sudden panic that coursed like ice through my veins. My thoughts felt fuzzy and immaterial as smoke, as if they would drift away to nothingness if I attempted to grasp them.

“Should I stop?” he asked, his rumbling voice a beacon of light in the darkness, an instant balm to the thoughts swirling in my mind. Biting my lip I shook my head and titled my face up towards him though I kept my eyes closed.

At first I thought he wouldn’t continue, the silence spreading between us until I was sure I couldn’t take any more. I was about to open my eyes when I felt his feather light touch upon my chest as he undid the next button on my shirt, and then the next, and the next, until my shirt hung open, his breath tickling the exposed skin of my chest. His fingers were impossibly warm as they slid down the sides of my neck, my pulse hammering beneath his touch as if it sought to jump up to meet his fingers. Moving down to my collar bone he trailed the tips of his fingers over the dips and curves of my neck and upper chest.

A startled gasp erupted from me when he laid his lips upon me, following the path of his fingers with torturous slowness, leaving a burning trail of sensation. Teasingly his fingers dipped into the hollow between my breasts before dancing along the edge of my bra. I arched my back instinctively in an attempt to press my breasts against his hands, silently demanding more. A deep and rumbling chuckle vibrated through his lips and into my chest, his tongue darting out to taste the skin between my breasts.

Gnawing on my lower lip I fought to contain my moans of pleasure, his lips and fingers playing a heavenly symphony on my skin, exploring the curves of my breasts above my bra. My breasts felt heavy and swollen, desperate for his touch, aching to feel his fingers and lips on my nipples.