Out of Her League (12 page)

“Is that good?” he asked and she nodded,
though she doubted very much any answer was needed as she writhed against him
and he thrust back, her head dropping to the side. He laved her neck with his
tongue and brought one hand up to her breasts. He cupped and squeezed and
petted, stroked and pressed, until he pinched her nipple and she cried out. Then
it was one hard pinch after another, moving between her breasts, back and forth.
She thrust her ass back harder, faster, grinding his erection against her ass,
and arching her breasts into his hand.

She ached, empty and wanting, reaching back
to pull his hip tighter against her. “Please, Lachlan. I need, I need…” She
trailed off, distracted by a long, hard pull on her right nipple.

“You like that, huh?” he said, and she could
hear his smile. She turned her head to see it and was mesmerized by his
profile, cheek pink, eye dark, looking down over her shoulder at his hand on
her breast, the gather of fabric between his fingers as he pinched her tight
and pulled.

“I do,” she whispered.

“Does it hurt?” he asked curiously.

“Yes.”

His hovering smile flashed wider as his
eyes slid closed. He hummed. “May I?” he asked, and she had no idea what he was
asking for until his other hand, the one not torturing her nipples, coasted up
her thigh and edged under the hem of her dress.

“Yes. Lachlan, yes, please, you can—”
do
anything
, she thought, the words cut off by the shudder of pleasure he
pulled from her as his hand dragged higher, lifting her skirt until his fingers
teased at the top of her thigh, just below the panties she knew were soaking
wet.

She dropped her head back on his shoulder
and sighed. “Please.”

He laughed, just a puff of air and the
pleased curve of lips against her neck. A whimper of protest caught in her
throat when he released her breast. She was even more confused when he tugged
her hand from his hip and planted it on the wall.

He pressed his hand over hers and tucked
his nose against her temple, his lips to her ear. “Hold on.”

A shudder worked its way down her spine
until she was quaking against him in anticipation, panting with desire. Jesus
fucking Christ, how was he so
good
at this?

He hooked his hand around her thigh and
hitched her ass higher, until she was standing with her knees locked, legs
spread, and both hands against the wall. She would have felt vulnerable, oddly
exposed considering she was still fully dressed, but his warmth draped over and
wrapped around her, made her feel safe.

Brave.

Lachlan slid his hands up and down Michaela’s
long, strong thighs, his palms buzzing as silky skin quivered beneath his
touch.

Goddamn, she was something else. All he
wanted to do was touch her. Fuck her. But he had enough presence of mind left,
barely, to recognize that perhaps they should have slept on his proposition
before diving right in.

Not that he had any regrets about what they
had done so far, or what they were doing right now. It was just that he
intended to keep it that way, so he’d set some hard—god, they were so fucking
hard—
limits
for himself.

He could only hold her like this, taste her
and touch her and listen to the ridiculously sexy sounds spilling from her lips
and caught in her throat, for so long before he lost his mind and did something
outside the scope he was determined to stay within.

He traced her ear with his lips, enjoying
how it made her shiver. “I’m going to touch you,” he murmured as his hands slid
up her legs again.

She nodded immediately and he squeezed his
eyes shut, his fingers tracing through the evidence of her arousal slick on her
thighs. She canted her hips, jamming his already aching cock against her
spectacular and remarkably firm ass. He’d have to ask her—at some other point,
not
now—
about her training regime, because she clearly worked her body hard.

In fact, he wanted to learn everything
there was to know about her, about her body, so that he could work her hard,
too.

His fingers brushed over the soft fabric
between her thighs and she jolted, her breath catching before leaving her in a
rush. The cotton was wet, thoroughly soaked as he gently peeled it away from
her body, petting the soft hair beneath as he eased her panties down until the
strings dug into her wide-spread thighs. It was far enough.

He cupped her in his hand, the soft pad
over her pubic bone nestled in his palm, his fingers teasing over her slick
folds.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice hoarse from
the desire choking him.

She groaned, her frustration almost
tangible. “Lachlan, please. Touch me. All I want is for you to touch me, to
fuck me.
Please
.”

And that. That was exactly what he wanted,
too. Goddamn, those limits sucked. But there was still so much they could do.
So much he could give her.

He drew one finger over her swollen clit,
and she jerked violently and cried out, more sensitive and responsive than he
ever could have dreamed. She told him what she liked without words, demanded
more with every twitch and thrust. He circled his fingers faster, pressing
forward with his hips to steady her as the most amazing, desperate groans vibrated
from her back into his chest.

He’d thought he could go on like this for
hours, building her up higher and higher, but it wasn’t long before
he
was so fucking lost his cock ached, leaking steadily as she dragged her ass
over and against it time and again.

He changed directions suddenly, flicking a
finger over her clit, hard and fast, setting a steady rhythm that drew new
cries from her lips, the sounds sweet and then cutting off abruptly when he
sank a finger deep unto her pussy.

“Oh god,” she groaned, riding his hand, her
head thrown back.

Jesus, she was so wet. So ready for him.
His cock throbbed against her ass, strangled in his jeans and fucking begging
to be freed. He clamped down on the urge to do exactly that and focused on her.

“That’s it, baby. Take what you need.”

“Need you. Need you to—”

He added a second finger and curled them
both, setting a rhythm to match his other hand, still working her clit.

“God, I want to fuck you,” he growled
against her ear. “I’m so fucking hard, I can’t imagine how good you would
feel.”

She whimpered. “Do it. Please, Lachlan.”

He clamped down on the instinct to give her
anything she wanted and thrust his hand harder, curving his wrist to go deeper
and still drag his fingertips over her g-spot.

She bucked against him, her hips kicking in
circles as desperate little whimpers exploded from her throat every time he
thrust in. The muscles around his finger fluttered, his hand drenched, and he
knew she was close. His balls were drawn tight, aching and full, and he
wondered dizzily if he might come in his damn pants without a hand on him—something
that had never come
close
to happening to him before.

He’d be perfectly happy if it went down
that way, but not before she’d found her first orgasm. He released the delicate
skin of her neck he hadn’t even realized he’d pulled between his lips.

“Come on, Michaela.
Take
it.”

She shuddered against him, her head
shaking. Long strands of her hair fell over her face, but he could still see
how her mouth hung open, and her eyes were tightly screwed shut. She was
gorgeous, reaching for her pleasure. So fucking close. But it wasn’t enough,
she wasn’t
there
.

This was totally unacceptable.

His third finger garnered a loud, sharp shout,
followed by higher-pitched moans. Her cheeks flushed darker, her long back
arching until her hips canted higher, locked against his. Her only movements
now were the tremors that ran through her body, but it still wasn’t enough.

He kept his fingers deep, making short,
sharp furious thrusts against her g-spot, his pinky stretching out to tap the
tight knot of her asshole.

Her high cries were cut off a low, needy
moan. And
that
was the magic he’d been looking for, right where he hadn’t
even dreamed he could look.

“
Fuck
,” he gasped. “Do you want me
in there, too? Do you like to be fucked in the ass?”

She keened something that sounded satisfyingly
like his name, her head dropping as she clamped down around his fingers. Her
legs shook and she collapsed back into him, grinding her clenching pussy into
his hand, riding out her climax for as long as she could.

When her knees wobbled dangerously, he
pulled the hand away from her clit and pressed it low on her belly, holding her
against him. Holding her up. She let out a whine of totally unabashed
disappointment when he eased his other hand from her body.

Jesus Christ, she was really something
else.

As soon as he felt reasonably sure she
could support herself, he leaned back just far enough to gently turn her
around, tug her dress back into place, and prop her against the wall.

God, she looked magnificent. Her hair was a
mess, her lips swollen, her face and neck pink from his late-day stubble. She
was still breathing hard, her eyelids at half-mast and gaze vague.

He kissed her, once, letting himself sink
into it but not pushing too close. He thought if he touched her, felt her lax,
sated body against his, there was no way he wouldn’t demand to be shown the way
to her bedroom so he could start all over again.

He ended the kiss with a sigh. “I should
go.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Go?”

“Not because I want to. Because I should.”

She stared up at him from where she remained
slumped against the wall. “You don’t have to. I want you to stay.”

He smiled, pleased, and pressed a gentle
kiss to the crest of one cheekbone. “Thank you. But tonight I think you should
think about my offer.”

Her slow smile was devastating. “I’m pretty
sure I already gave you an answer.”

“And I liked it,” he assured her, leaning
in so their cheeks pressed close but holding the rest of his body away. “But if
I’m going to do all the things you want me to” —he ran a suggestive hand over
her ass— “then I need you to be sure.”

Her head hit the wall with a dull thunk, as
if her neck could no longer support the weight. “I’m not going to let you go if
you keep doing shit like that.”

He was perfectly aware his smile was smug.

“You’re nothing like I imagined you’d be,”
she said with a low chuckle.

He could spend days watching her face when
she smiled like that. “So, you imagined this? Being with me?”

“Oh, yes. More than once.”

“And what did you imagine?” he asked,
almost afraid of her answer. Afraid it would send all his good intentions
straight to hell, with him not far behind.

Her big toothy grin made his heart beat
funny in a way that couldn’t be explained by arousal alone. “Well, for one
thing, I figured you’d be dead silent.”

Lachlan chuckled, pleased that he’d
surprised her. He was already planning how he might do it again.

He kissed her once more, briefly, because
she was fucking irresistible like this. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He slipped out her door, leaving her
propped against the wall, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. It almost fucking
killed him to walk away.

The quarter-mile walk home was the longest,
most painful of his life. He prayed with every step that he wouldn’t bump into
anyone he knew, walking with his hands thrust in his pocket, the right curled
protectively around his aching dick.

It took his shaking fingers a while to
cooperate enough to get his goddamn front door open. The moment it slammed shut
behind him, he was tearing at his jeans and shoving them and his boxers out of
the way. He dropped to his knees, the cold hardwood floor barely registering as
he wrapped his hand around his cock. Just a few brutal strokes later, he came
so hard he had to catch himself with one hand against the door, his voice cracking
mid-shout.

Michaela skipped up the steps to the
building where Lachlan was just about to finish teaching a class and reminded
herself that she would
not
allow this to be awkward. So she’d come all
over his hand while shouting his name. They were grown-ups, for Christ’s sake.
The only thing she was embarrassed about was that she’d let him walk away with
that massive erection and not done anything about it.

Honestly, she hadn’t had a lot of lovers,
thanks to the douchebag, but she’d had enough to know that it was
not
okay to leave your partner hanging like that. She was determined to never be that
selfish again, even if it had been Lachlan’s own damn fault for scrambling her
brains like that and walking away before she could recover.

She was sort of giddy to think that she would
have a chance to make it up to him. It had been a long time since this sort of
thing was even a possibility, let alone a reality. And it
would
be a
reality. Lachlan had wanted her to think about it, and she had. All night.
Through two more orgasms, she’d thought about it. And nothing that had come to
mind or entered her fertile imagination had convinced her that this wasn’t a
terrific fucking idea.

So she stood sentry outside the Emerson
building, ignoring the looks from the students flowing out the doors. She heard
a deep voice and stepped forward a moment before Lachlan and Anna stepped
outside.

“Hi!” she said, perhaps a shade too
brightly.

Anna startled, then returned her smile.
“Hello.”

Michaela found she was too nervous to look
directly at Lachlan, which was hilariously bad, since where the hell would it
leave them if neither one of them could look at the other or speak?

“Good morning, Michaela,” Lachlan said, his
deep voice washing over her, and, damn him, she could
hear
the laughter
in his voice.

She turned her biggest smile on him, the
one that usually made him go silent. “Good morning, Dr. Morrison.”

She had the satisfaction of watching his
cheeks go pink, but he didn’t look away. In fact, the devil arched one eyebrow.

Who was this man and how soon could she rip
his clothes off?

“And to what do we owe the pleasure of this
visit?” he asked.

Michaela shrugged and straightened the very
fashionable scarf looped around her neck and over the hickey she intended to
give him hell about. “I was hoping you had time for a walk. Or maybe lunch?”

“I’d like that.” He turned to Anna, who
appeared to be trying very hard not to laugh. “Would you mind if I took off
from here?”

“Of course not! You two go have fun.”

Lachlan tried to frown at his TA and her
blinding grin, failing miserably at making a dent in either. Before he could
say something—though Michaela couldn’t imagine what—Anna turned and practically
flounced down the stairs with a cheerful wave goodbye.

Michaela made sure no one else was standing
nearby. “She totally thinks something is up.”

Lachlan turned to her, frowning. “I’m
sorry. I know you prize your privacy.”

That was a massive understatement, but she
waved away his concern. “I’m not worried about Anna. Unless you are. I’m sure
you don’t want your department gossiping about you.”

He opened his mouth to say something before
apparently reconsidering. Instead, he touched her elbow and they started down
the stairs, away from the students still trickling out of the building.

“Anna would never gossip about me,” he said
at last.

He sounded certain, and Michaela had
already suspected that was the case. Anna was obviously fond of her mentor,
which, as far as Michaela was concerned, was totally understandable.

“So, where are we going?” Lachlan asked as
they cut across the quad under the watchful gaze of everyone in the vicinity.

“Oh! Well, as tempting as it is to just
invite you to up to my place,” she began, thoroughly enjoying his reaction to
that suggestion, his gaze hot and zeroed in on her, “I thought we should talk
about your tux.”

He blinked. “My what?”

“Your tuxedo. We have the Fall Ball on
Saturday, if you remember?”

“Oh, shit.”

She patted his shoulder and bit back any
urge to let him out of it, because she was absolutely not going to do that.
“You’re going to do great,” she said instead. “And the first tenet of
Michaela’s
Rules for Managing the Public
is that you have to dress for the role you
want to play.”

Lachlan smirked. “So, I can wear something
that matches the wallpaper in the back corner of the ballroom?”

She laughed. “Very clever. And no. You probably
couldn’t carry off the floral chintz look anyway.”

“What will you be wearing?”

“Well, that’s an interesting question,” she
said as she turned off the main drag and onto a much quieter one. She ducked
into a recessed doorway and towed him along with her. “I was going to wear a
blue strapless dress I got a while back, but I’ve discovered a sudden taste for
the halter top.”

She turned her back to the street and
tugged the scarf away from her neck.

Lachlan’s eyes widened. “
Oops
.”

Michaela grinned at Lachlan’s aghast
expression. She’d been pissed for all of ten seconds last night as she’d stood
in front of the mirror, gaping at the bruise that had only begun to settle into
the glorious deep purples it was now. Then she’d recalled how good it had felt to
receive it, and just thanked god the weather had turned cooler.

“Oh my god, Michaela, I am so sorry. That
is…that is
not
discreet. I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop.” She put her hand on his chest to
soften the interruption. “All I ask is next time, you restrict yourself to
leaving marks lower down, where people can’t see.”

Lachlan swallowed heavily and stared into
her eyes. “Next time, huh?” he said, his voice huskier.

She shivered. Jesus, maybe they
should
have gone back to her place, just so they could work off some of this tension
before attempting to do anything so civilized as shopping or eating in public.

She had to clear her throat, twice, before she
could speak. “Right, well, let’s get back on topic, shall we?” She stepped back
onto the sidewalk and he followed, walking by her side. “So, do you own anything
in the way of formal wear?”

“Does my kilt count?”

She laughed, because honestly, that would
be her preference, but the goal here was to make moving through social
interaction easier, and that wasn’t the way to start. “Maybe sometime later we
can upgrade you to the full regalia,” she suggested, “but perhaps this go
round, we should stick to something simpler.”

“I don’t own a tux, but I can get one.”

“You don’t mind?” she asked. She didn’t
want to force him to spend a lot of money on something he wouldn’t see as
useful, and she was pretty sure she could guess his reaction to her offering to
buy him one.

“I don’t mind. I’ve rented enough of them
that I probably would have been better off buying one years ago.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “There’s a shop I’ve
heard a lot of good things about that I’m certain will have something classic that
won’t ever go out of style.” Because men were fucking lucky like that.

“How do I choose?”

Michaela smiled up at him. “Do you trust
me?”

Lachlan stopped, his expression more
serious than the question warranted. “Absolutely.”

Her heart beat a little harder against her
ribs. “Then let’s go.”

Lachlan climbed out of the taxi downtown
and turned to give Michaela a hand out. She smiled gratefully while they both
ignored the gasp from someone on the sidewalk behind him.

Seriously, people were so fucking weird.

Michaela slipped ridiculously large
sunglasses over her eyes, and sailed forward through the lunchtime crowd, a
friendly smile on her face. Lachlan was impressed that she could manage to look
so happy, so pleasant, while clearly giving off a “leave me alone” vibe. He
hoped learning how to do that was one of the lessons she had in store for him.

In the meantime, he followed in her wake,
like a big dorky shadow, as she went directly to the door of the Boylston
Haberdasher.

Stepping into the shop was like stepping
into a different world. Almost like entering McGinty’s, the way the sound of
the traffic and the crowd disappeared the moment the door closed behind them.
Only, rather than being greeted by a cantankerous bartender-cum-defenseman,
they were approached by an impeccably dressed middle-aged woman.

“Ms. Price, we’re honored to have you visit
our shop. Welcome.”

Michaela smiled, but Lachlan noticed her
shoulders still seemed tight, and there was no recognition in her expression. “Thank
you,” she murmured. “This is my friend, Dr. Lachlan Morrison,” she said with an
absent wave, biting her lower lip in an uncharacteristic display of nerves.

Dammit, why was she nervous? It was making
him
nervous.

The woman’s smile brightened considerably
as she gave Lachlan a blatant once-over. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,
Dr. Morrison.”

Lachlan licked his lips. Twice. “Uh—”

Michaela cleared her throat delicately,
drawing the shop clerk’s attention. “Is Robert available today?”

The woman’s smile froze. “Yes, I’ll go get
him for you.” She gave a polite nod and walked away.

Michaela watched her go. At one point she
lifted her hand, as if to call the woman back but let it drop by her side again.

Lachlan eyed Michaela warily. “You okay?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, a little too firmly
to be believable, then smiled at him. “I was going to ask you the same thing. You
know she was just examining your inseam, right?”

“Is that a euphemism?”

Michaela laughed, the sound fading when a
man about their age, in a trim dark suit, came through the curtain at the back
of the room.

He stopped short, the curtain still swaying
behind him. “Michaela?”

“Hello, Robby,” she said softly.

The man just stood staring at Michaela for
a long time. Then he shook himself and came forward quickly, taking her hands
in his. “It’s so good to see you. What are you
doing
here?”

“I’m going to school up here, now,” she
explained, though Lachlan got the impression that hadn’t been what Robby was
asking. “And my friend” —she waved at Lachlan— “needs a tuxedo. I knew you’d be
the best.”

Robby smiled and turned to Lachlan. His perfect
eyebrow arched high. “He’s a Morrison.”

“How’d you know that?” Lachlan asked.

“I follow hockey. And the gossip.” He shot
Michaela a meaningful glance. “Also, I never forget eye color as pretty as that.
If your brother Callum hadn’t made a habit of breaking his nose, they’d be
about the same, too.”

“Wow,” Lachlan said, starting to fidget
under the close scrutiny, but telling himself Robby was probably just checking
out his inseam, too. “I’m impressed.”

The other eyebrow went up. “It’s mutual, I
assure you,” he murmured, still staring at something below Lachlan’s belt.

Lachlan kind of wished the floor would open
up beneath him and swallow him whole.

Michaela grinned and cuffed Robby on the
shoulder. “You haven’t changed at all. He’s strictly off-limits to you, you
man-thieving bitch. I brought him, and I’m taking him home.”

Lachlan’s felt his mouth drop open.

Robby appeared to be delighted. “It was
one
time
. We were
twelve.
”

Michaela sniffed. “I’m still not over it.”

“Apparently not, princess.”

Michaela’s expression went achingly soft
and sad at the nickname, but Robby didn’t see it. He was too busy casting a
critical eye over every inch of Lachlan again.

“I suppose I can content myself to
dressing
him.” He held out his hand. “I’m Robert Wigglesworth, proprietor of this shop,
and old boarding school friend to the princess here.” He tilted his head toward
Michaela.

“And boyfriend thief?”

“Is that what you are, a boyfriend?” Robby
drawled, his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, ah, I didn’t mean—”

“Leaving him alone, Wiggles,” Michaela said
with a warm smile. “He’s here to get a tux, not an interrogation.”

Robby harrumphed, as if to say,
we’ll
see about that
.

Lachlan tried very hard not to look half as
terrified as he felt. He had to admire the man’s ability to say a whole lot
more than the words he actually chose to speak. He and Michaela working
together could conquer all of society and still have time for lunch.

“Well, come along,” Robby said, turning
toward the back of the shop. “I already know what we’ll try first, unless you
have ideas.”

“I would never presume,” Michaela said
demurely, waiting for Lachlan before following Robby toward the curtain.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any
friends up here,” Lachlan said quietly.

“Oh, well, I haven’t really spent time with
Robby in years,” she hedged.

“And whose fault is that?” Robby
sing-songed through the curtain. The man apparently had ears like a bat.

Michaela sighed and pushed through the
curtain, towing Lachlan with her. The space beyond looked like an opulent
living room, with ornate chairs and couches grouped in roughly a horseshoe around
a coffee table laden with a silver tea and coffee service. The seating was
angled toward a platform surrounded by mirrors. There was a door to one side of
that, and two curtained cubicles on the other.

Michaela sat in the chair directly facing
the platform and poured herself some tea. Even Lachlan could tell she was
stalling in the face of Robby’s arch stare. Lachlan hovered behind her, torn
between feeling vaguely protective and being frankly curious.