Tempting (3 page)

T
he walk
from the classroom building to my office was short, but the fact that I was keeping my eyes peeled for Adele the entire time made it feel eight times longer. September was the busiest time on campus, all the students still high on the social aspect of starting a new semester, none of the pressures of midterms or finals having started yet. I dodged someone on a scooter, and glared at him when he just shrugged his shoulder at me.

Occasionally, there were days when I wondered why I put up with the bullshit at a state university when we were close enough to many of the Ivy League schools on the east coast. The true intellectuals went there, for looming, greenery-covered brick buildings and history so deeply embedded that you could fairly smell it just walking on the grounds.

But Eastons were just as embedded in Northern University, my father still serving on the board after retiring as a professor in the business program, so it wasn’t as if I really had a choice. He already thought I was a fuck-up, majoring and teaching in the arts, rather than something that garnered respect. And then Diana, well … that had only served as more ammunition.

When your son basically kills his own wife, he isn’t much to brag about.

“You’re late.”

My head snapped up as I rounded the corner to my office. Adele was leaning up against the wall just next to my office door, only her back touching the surface behind her. The way her lower body stuck out a bit looked horribly uncomfortable, but I knew exactly why she was doing it, jutting her hips out like that. Because it’s how I’d almost fucked her up against the wall in the alley outside the bar.

I flicked a glance at my watch and raised an eyebrow at her while I pulled my keys out of my pocket.

“Actually, I’m not. You’re early, which is an entirely different issue. When I said ten minutes, I meant it.”

Pulling the key from the doorknob, I pushed open the door and gestured Adele ahead of me. For a second, she just stared at me, her eyes roaming my face.

“You’re now cutting into the ten minutes, Miss Morello, and I don’t do well with people wasting my time.”

With a sigh, she pushed off the wall and brushed past me, much closer than was necessary. I managed to hold my breath, so as not to inhale any of her scent. I’d done enough of that the other night, when I’d licked up the side of her neck.

Walking into my small, cramped office, I didn’t give her another look until I’d made my way to the other side of my massive desk. She hadn’t sat in either of the chairs opposite from me, instead she kept her hands braced on the back of the one closest to the door. In no way was that particular position an accident, because it made her white shirt gap in a way that I could see straight into her cleavage. Far enough down, in fact, that with one quick glance I could see the black lace edges.

Same bra.

Of course she was wearing the same bra.

“Miss Morello, please take a seat,” I said, sounding exactly as annoyed as I felt. The sharp curve of her chin lifted a fraction, and she narrowed her green eyes in a way that I’m sure she thought was playful. All it did was ratchet my annoyance into surging anger at the fact that I was even in this fucking mess to begin with. All because I got into the wrong woman’s pants.

“I think I’m more comfortable standing, actually.”

“Suit yourself, I’ll make sure this doesn’t take too long.”

“Well, that’s a change from the other night.”

Bracing my folded hands on my desk, I leaned forward and met her gaze. “I’m not sure if you thought I was joking earlier about kicking you out of my class. I assure you that I’m not.”

Adele lifted both hands in mock surrender, then made a motion across her lips like she was locking a key. It was almost humorous, because we both knew—myself with startling, vivid memories—that Adele was
not
quiet.

“Thank you,” I said with a nod and settled back in my chair again. “Obviously I had no idea who you were last week. I don’t make a habit of frequenting that bar, or any other for that matter, and I certainly don’t make a habit of…” she lifted an eyebrow when I cleared my throat, “fraternizing with students. My point is that I’ll give you my word that one night will in no way affect my ability to treat you fairly as a student. I’ll forget it ever happened if you can do the same.”

What her reaction would be to that, I hadn’t really given much thought to, because it wasn’t a speech I was making for her benefit. I meant it. Adele Morello was one blip during the course of the last few years. I wasn’t willing to let her, and the few explosive hours we shared together, hold any level of importance over my life. She was young, probably twenty or twenty-one, and she’d find another diversion quickly enough.

Suffice it to say, I was mildly surprised when her reaction wasn’t to smile and nod, or make some cheeky comment. Oh no, she stared at me like she was trying to siphon my soul out of my body, and then turned in a smooth circle to quietly close and lock my office door.

Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.

She was one of
those
girls, one that any sort of challenge would be as good as waving the proverbial scarlet flag in front of the bull. And the look in her eyes when she turned back to face me?

I was fucked. Literally, if it was up to her, judging by the way she raked her gaze over my upper body.

“Unlock the door, Miss Morello.”

She hummed, drawing the tip of one finger around the top button of her shirt.

“Unlock the door,” I said quietly, keeping my eyes trained on her face. “Now.”

“No,” she said simply, unhooking the button and using her finger to pull aside the white cotton and trace circles on the newly exposed skin.

I rubbed at my forehead, the only sign of weariness I would allow her to see, then dragged the hand down my face, holding it over my mouth for a moment while I looked at her. “This isn’t a game.”

Still, she didn’t move from her perch in front of the door. Her face softened a touch when I said that, but the resolve in her eyes never wavered. Finally I stood, praying to anyone that would listen that I wouldn’t have to physically remove her from my office. But no matter how well I knew my hands fit on her body—on some really excellent parts, too—she was not worth my job.

I came to a stop just in front of her, motioning for her to step aside. She moved all right, stepping up against me and smoothing her hands up my chest. I grabbed her wrists to halt their movement, stupidly not taking them off me altogether.

“I don’t think it’s a game either,” she whispered, lifting up onto the balls of her feet so her mouth angled toward mine. I moved my head back when she came close enough that I could feel her breath on my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted and tightened at her proximity, and I felt horribly powerless at the memories that assaulted me from the last time we’d been this close, the way she’d clutched at my skin with her hands. “In fact, I’m being perfectly serious when I tell you that I couldn’t forget that night even if I wanted to. The way you felt inside me, the bruises that you left me with.”

I closed my eyes, tightening the grip on her fragile wrists, wishing I could shove bricks in my ears just so I wouldn’t have to hear those words, feel what they did to me. Adele felt my hesitation and tipped her face forward so she could brush her lips against the corner of my jaw.

The soft touch of her lips snapped me into the present and I shoved her far enough away from me so that I could unlock the door and open it. Thank God the hallway was quiet. She was staring down at the front of my pants with a sly smile on her face.

Come on, any man would be hard after that.

With a careless shrug, Adele slipped her bag over her shoulder and then closed up the button she’d undone earlier.

“See you in class, Professor Easton.”

And then she was gone.

I
couldn’t believe
he wouldn’t let me kiss him.

Three days later and I was still hung up on the fact that he’d all but shoved me out of his office and slammed the door in my face.

I knew I hadn’t misread his clear attraction to me the Friday night before, and even as he told me to leave his office on Monday, there was no mistaking the bulge in his pants.

I plopped into my favorite seat of the campus coffee shop I worked at: in the back corner, away from the number of fuckwads who decided the shop was the perfect place to show off their pathetic attempts at flirting. In the back I was almost completely obscured by the napkin dispensers and therefore often left alone.

After I popped in earbuds and cranked up my study music, I settled into my seat, pen on paper. Loud, pulsing beats vibrated my cartilage and I paused every once in a while to absently thump my pen onto the paper, catching myself tapping my feet too.

I worked for maybe ten minutes before my thoughts strayed to Nathan. Which was how my entire week had been; intense concentration broken by a thought of him. I was particularly thrilled to find how focused and assertive he was as a professor, much like how he’d been in my bed, throwing me down, flipping me over; making what I expected to be a quick romp in the sheets more of an Olympic affair.

And as far as my sexual history went, he most definitely won the gold medal in orgasms. And a world record in taking them from me in quick succession.

My table shifted and a bag fell onto it, interrupting me from my thoughts. I looked up into Leo’s face as he shrugged off his jacket and set it on the back of the chair opposite me. I tugged on an earbud.

Pointing a finger at me, he asked, “Want a pumpkin latte?”

I made a face. “Gross. No.”

Grinning, he walked around to the counter. I heard the distinct giggles of one of the baristas, having fallen victim to Leo’s flirting. That was his power: his charisma. He used his charms to smoothly talk his way through any sticky situation. It was why we got along strictly as friends, because I possessed the same power, but I wielded mine with my tongue and not just with words, but with action, too.

My phone vibrated across the table and I picked it up.

I
took in a deep breath
, willing my mother’s nagging voice away from my head.

I
imagined her saying that
, her blonde hair delicately curled to rest upon her shoulders, her green eyes, echoes of mine, narrowed on me with a snide smile spreading her paper thin lips. And the visual was so close to reality that I shook it from my head and turned my phone on silent.

Rolling my eyes, I moved my eyes back to the paper, wholly uninspired. My eyes caught on the doodle I’d drawn during class. It was just a small sketch on the upper corner of my paper; a loose white blouse with taut lines from the weight of the eyeglasses that hung from the opening. I may or may not have embellished with the cleavage above it, not that I needed to.

Leo returned and unceremoniously deposited a cup in front of me, sending droplets spilling out of the mouth opening and over my notebook.

“What’s that?” I asked, eyes flicking from the cup to him as I rubbed the mess on my papers.

Leo leaned back in his seat, shrugged. “Try it.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth as I mulled it over before taking a tentative sip. Instantly, a spoonful of liquid sugar hit my tongue and I made a face. “What the fuck, Leo?”

“Salted caramel hot chocolate.” He shook his head. “Girls like that stuff!” he exclaimed, pulling the offending beverage from my hand.

“Not this girl.” I turned my face back to my paper and found myself tapping along again to the beat that came from the lone earbud still in my other ear.

“True that.” He drank from the cup he’d given me. “You’re right, this is sickly sweet.”

Teasing him, I said, “Like your girlfriend … what’s her name? Darlene?” I waved a hand at the cup. “I bet she’d like that liquid poison.”

“Darcy,” he corrected. “And she’s not my girlfriend, remember? We’re on a break.”

I snorted, flipped a page in my textbook. “Oh, that’s right. Who’s the tits-with-legs I saw you with Friday night? Darcy two-point-oh?”

“She’s no one,” Leo said flippantly. I gave him a look, the don’t-treat-women-like-they’re-a-drive-thru look. In and out, that was the Leo way. It was another reason we worked as just friends: because I would never take him seriously. He sighed, losing some of the gloat he’d come in with. “She didn’t give me her number,” he said. I resisted laughing, just barely. Leo seemed actually hurt by it. “She rubbed her body on me for hours, went to the bathroom and never came back. And I sat there like a little bitch, nursing my beers thinking she was coming back.”

“Aw.” I reached a hand across the table and rubbed his arm. “Cheer up, pumpkin. There are other fish in the sea, or whatever that nonsense is.” I flipped another page in the textbook, knowing studying was futile but giving it a shot anyways.

“What about you? Who was that guy you left with?”

My eyes didn’t lift from the page, but my body stilled. “Some guy.” Not lying. “I didn’t get his number, either.” It still stung a bit, knowing he’d left me without making plans to see me again. Which I knew was the reason I wasn’t letting him off the hook easily. That and the fact that I liked to watch him squirm.

“You were practically eating his face.” Leo pulled a textbook from his bag and dropped it on the table. My pen rolled off the table and Leo bent down to get it. “Are you going to the party this weekend?” he asked flopping the pen on my notebook, splattering ink everywhere.

“Damn it, Leo. Can you do anything gently?” I looked at my ink splattered paper, noting with swift disappointment the droplet that had smeared across my sketch. “What party?” I asked with little interest. I thought of my father’s birthday and felt like celebrating at a party, even when he wasn’t in attendance, was decidedly something I did
not
want to do.

“Delta Whatever-Their-Name-Is. The place where you puked in the refrigerator.”

“Ah,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure they’re eager for me to be in attendance.” I turned back to the ink-splattered page in front of me and frowned. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Come on, Add. Let’s go out. We haven’t gone out in forever.”

Roughly, I flipped to a clean page in my notebook. “Forever as in six days ago?”

Leo placed a large, tanned hand on my own, halting me from further movement. “That doesn’t count; we danced with other people and only saw each other for five minutes.”

“I’ll think about it,” I conceded, shaking his hand off of mine. “But if—and I mean
if
—I go, you’re not letting me do Jell-O shots again.”

“Come on, babe. You’re a wild animal; ain’t no taming you when your heart is set on something.”

Why did that thought make me think of Nathan? Certainly, I couldn’t deny my thoughts for him weren’t primal in a way that was alarming. I didn’t jump from man to man, I left them when I was done with them, when they were worn out and still wanting. That was what women wanted, right? To leave a man wanting more?

So why hadn’t Nathan wanted more?