Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (48 page)

He cringed as we started down the hall together. “That obvious, huh?”

“A little bit,” I said. “But in a good way, I think.”

“Yeah?” He shot a glance at me.

“Yeah.”

“Well, then, um, what are you doing later tonight?”

I grinned. “Nothing.”

He grinned back. “You want to hang out?”

* * *

Carter

The thing about being a young professor in a college town was that there was nowhere to hide from the students. Half of them were old enough to drink, so if I decided I wanted to go out and have a beer or two, I had to watch myself the entire time. I couldn’t afford to get too drunk or else everyone would know about it within days.

It didn’t help that I’d actually gone to college here and graduated only a few years before. Some of my old friends still lived in town, and they couldn’t understand why I wasn’t getting sloshed with them. But I had a reputation to uphold.

Sure, my reputation was the asshole professor who insulted female acting students, making them flee the theater in tears. But that reputation was a better one than being the drunk professor. I really didn’t want that.

That night, I needed a drink. I really needed ten drinks, but I couldn’t do that. I supposed I could have sat at home alone, getting wasted in my living room. But there was something tragically sad about drinking alone, and I wasn’t that far gone yet.

I always went out to drink at the same bar that I’d frequented as a college student. It was the one favored by theater majors, possibly because it was called Shakespeare’s, but probably because it was a block from the theater and thus a quick walk after curtain.

Shakespeare’s was tiny, but it wasn’t too full that evening, because it was the middle of the week. It was a narrow room in an old building. The walls were thick, exposed brick. The lighting was dim. There was a mirror behind the bar, filmy with age. I was nursing a local microbrew when I saw Harper and Teagan reflected in it as they walked inside.

I couldn’t believe it. Harper worked fast. He and Teagan strolled into Shakespeare’s together, both grinning at each other like idiots. How had he managed that so quickly?

I looked away so that I didn’t have to make eye contact. I pretended that I didn’t see them. Instead, I ordered a shot of whiskey from the bartender. Maybe I was going to get wasted after all.

Why would she come here with him? Was it a date? What would she want with Harper anyway? He was clumsy and awkward and idiotic. Someone like Teagan shouldn’t be with a
child
like Harper.

Of course, I reminded myself grimly, they were the same age.

And I was her professor. I was supposed to be leaving her alone.

The bartender brought back the whiskey. I knocked it back and asked for more.

The two settled in a table in the corner. I hid my face when Harper went to the bar to order drinks. He took two beers back to their table.

I watched them lean their heads close together to talk. I watched Teagan laugh at something he’d said. I watched him casually put a hand on her upper arm. God. He was touching her? Why was she letting him touch her?

The bartender set another shot in front of me. I took it, grimacing. I probably should stop drinking now. Five drinks was the absolute limit I allowed myself in town, but I usually spread them out. I could feel the liquor I’d just drank working its way through my blood stream, flowing through me, loosening me.

Teagan was standing up. I watched her make her way to the back of the bar, where the restrooms were.

I got up too.

The restrooms were tucked back in a corner. There were two doors facing each other. One for men and one for women. Because of the angle of Harper’s table, he couldn’t see us. No one could. We were in our own private, dimly lit alcove.

I waited for Teagan to come out of the restroom.

When she did, and she saw me, she jumped. “Oh. Hello, Professor Alexander.”

She was so beautiful. Her skin almost glowed. I reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of my knuckles.

She closed her eyes.

“What are you doing with him?” I sounded more agonized than I’d intended.

She pulled away. “Professor, I thought we both agreed that we’d stop this. Whatever it is.”

We had agreed that. But right afterwards, I remembered crushing her soft body against mine, and she hadn’t protested... “Is that what you want?”

She rearranged her clothing, flustered. “After those horrible things you said about me at the audition, I don’t see how you can expect—”

“I only wanted to keep him away from you,” I said. “I don’t want you with him.” The liquor had made me bold. Honest.

She furrowed her brow. “Please, I can’t...” She bit her lip.

She was so alluring. Her features were so dark and expressive. She looked perfect and sculpted, like a porcelain doll. I wanted my hands on her. I wanted my mouth on her.

She reached up and put her palm against my cheek, searching my eyes with her own. “What’s happening to us?”

I didn’t know. I covered her hand with my own.

But then she snatched her hand away. She turned, and she swept past me, leaving me alone.

I backed up against the doorway of the men’s room, squeezing my eyes shut, resting my head against the wall. What the fuck was
wrong
with me?

CHAPTER FIVE

Teagan

“But you haven’t even finished your drink,” said Harper.

“I know,” I said, picking up my purse, “but I really do have to get this English reading done.”

“Isn’t it a Monday-Wednesday-Friday class? You have all day tomorrow.”

“I have rehearsal tomorrow,” I said. Professor Alexander had walked out of the bar five minutes ago. When he’d walked past our table, he’d fixed me with this fiery stare.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About him.

“I’ll see you then, right?” I smiled at Harper.

He looked confused. “I guess so. Are you sure that everything’s okay?”

“Fine,” I said brightly. I ran out of the bar.

It was an abrupt change from the air conditioning inside to the muggy night air. I started up the street, but the air was too sticky. I slowed my pace. I was going to show up at his door all sweaty and disgusting if I didn’t watch it.

I was going to see him again.

I clutched my purse tightly.
Yes, but only to tell him to back off.

Right. I needed to keep telling myself that. I would tell him that I wasn’t interested, that I wanted a normal college experience with boys my own age. Like Harper. I wanted to be with boys who were nervous around me, not men who were so self-assured as to kiss me without invitation. I didn’t want to be inexplicably drawn to a man who was forbidden, no matter how sweet his kisses were, no matter how his touch made my breath shallow and my pulse pound.

I squared my shoulders as I turned onto the street where he lived. I would knock on his door. I’d tell him to stop. I’d be firm. He’d listen to me.

I stopped on the sidewalk, peering down his yard, past the willow tree. The lights were on downstairs in his house. He wasn’t on the porch. Not this time. I took a deep breath.

I could do this.

I walked across the grass and climbed the steps to the porch. I noticed the pillar I’d leaned against that first night, when he’d wrapped his fingers around my neck. I felt a stab of fear. A stab of longing.

I can do this. Stay strong.

And then I was at the door. I knocked.

There was a moment when nothing happened. Everything was still and silent. I could hear insects in the background, chirping in the late summer darkness.

And then he opened the door.

I opened my mouth to speak. My throat was dry.

“Miss Moss,” he said. “Would you like to come in?”

I drew myself up. “I don’t think that’s—”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. “Someone might see you.” He shut the door after me.

I’d stepped into a foyer. A set of steps was directly in front of me. To my left, I could see a living room, the edge of a red velvet arm chair. To my right, I could see a kitchen, the counters marbled, the appliances sleek and new. How did Professor Alexander afford this house on a teaching salary?

He was still holding my wrist. I pulled my hand back.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Listen, I don’t do this, okay? I don’t develop ridiculous crushes on my students, and I certainly don’t get jealous of them going on dates with their classmates.”

“But you
are
doing it,” I said.

“Yes, thank you, I’m aware.” He turned on his heel and walked away from me. “Do you want a drink? I have some wine.”

“I...”

His voice floated out of the kitchen. “You’re old enough to drink aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to stay,” I said. “I only came to tell you that I don’t think we should continue...”

He reappeared with two wine glasses.

“Doing this,” I finished.

He handed me a glass. “I agree.”

“Okay, good,” I said. I tried to hand him back the glass. “That’s decided. Then I’ll go.”

“Don’t,” he said.

“Professor, really, I...”

He headed into the living room. “Don’t leave.”

I followed him. “I shouldn’t be here. If I stay we’ll only be more tempted, and neither of us wants that.”

He sat down on a red velvet couch that matched the armchair. His living room was full of antique furniture and paintings. I peered up at a picture of a woman in a hooded robe, like the one from my dream.

“I rent it furnished,” he said. “None of this stuff is mine.” He gestured next to him on the couch. “Sit down.”

But even to rent this place. All by himself? It must be expensive. Of course he’d worked on Broadway before he came here, so maybe he had some money. But why
did
he come here? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for his career to stay in New York?

Slowly, I sat down on the couch next to him. He was a little mysterious, wasn’t he?

He peered at me over his wine glass.

I took a sip out of mine. What was I doing here? The longer I stayed near him, the more likely it would be that something would happen between us.

He gulped at his wine, draining the glass. He set it down.

Then he reached for my glass.

“Professor, I don’t think—”

He took it from me. He set it next to his.

He placed his hand on my knee. He flattened it, sliding up my thigh.

Tingles traveled over my legs, igniting something between my legs.

“Tell me to stop,” he said. “I’ll stop if you say it.”

I summoned breath, but the words got stuck in my throat, and I couldn’t get them out. I
did
want him to stop.

Oh, hell. Who was I kidding? That was the last thing I wanted.

He slid his other hand behind my head, cradling it.

And then his lips were on mine again, and our bodies were pressed together. I could feel his heat, radiating out through the layers of both of our clothes. His mouth was eager and skilled just as I remembered.

I sighed against his lips, my body relaxing. This was happening. I wanted this to happen. I was crazy, I was an idiot, but I wanted it. It felt so good.

His hand was traveling up my thigh, leaving a trail of sensation in its wake.

I placed my palm against his chest again, exploring the ridges and angles of him beneath his shirt.

He made a noise in the back of his throat. His hand moved more quickly on my body, skimming my hips and waist, dancing over my rib cage.

I held my breath.

And then it closed over my breast.

I moaned.

He kissed me harder. He caressed my breast, cupping it, squeezing it.

His touch was heavenly. I arched my back, pushing further into his hand.

One of his fingers found my nipple. Teased it. Stroked it. It stood up hard and round. And thrills of delight went through me, waking me up, turning me on.

My hand went lower. I slid it inside his shirt.

He pulled back, his hand leaving my breast. His eyes were half-lidded, full of desire. “You sure about this?”

Was I? No. Probably not. Actually, it was a really bad idea, but geez, he was so beautiful. I caressed his jaw. “Yes.”

He groaned. He kissed me again. “I want you to stay with me.” He found my breast again, rubbed my stiff nipple. “I want you in my bed.”

Stay? “Um, okay. I mean, I guess it’s only Wednesday, and I don’t have a class tomorrow until—”

“Wednesday?” He leapt off me. “Shit.”

What had I said?