by T. K. Leigh
Lowering my head, I pull my lips between my teeth, my confidence waning with every reasonable explanation he gives.
“Or maybe it’s because I genuinely like her as a person and can trust her, so when we’re seen having lunch together before class, it must be a precursor to something more. Because certainly men and women can’t be friends. One must be interested in the other. Is that right?”
I shake off my indecision, turning my resolute gaze back to him. He can come up with different explanations all he wants. After all, he is a lawyer. That’s probably one of the first things you learn in law school. How to bullshit. But he can’t fool me.
“You haven’t denied it.”
When he steps toward me, his green eyes darken as he studies my face, taking his time to appreciate the curve of my cheeks, the heart-like shape of my lips, the fire in my stare. The heat radiating from him is reminiscent of our first night together. When he came into my room and looked upon me with so much hunger, wanting the night to last an eternity for fear that what we had would vanish the instant the lights came back on.
“Chloe…”
The way my name rolls off his tongue makes it sound like a prayer. A benediction. A supplication. I’ve missed the intonation when he says my name. My real name. I’m so tired of having to be Miss Davenport around him. Of him having to be Professor Moore. There have never been two lines I wanted to blur more than those.
“How can I date someone when I’m still hung up on the last woman in my life?”
I release a tiny exhale of air, blinking repeatedly, taken aback by his admission. “And who’s that?” I barely manage to squeak out.
“This incredible woman I’ve been unable to stop thinking about since the moment I laid eyes on her when she was stuck at a bachelorette party in Vegas, where she was obviously miserable.”
“Sounds like a smart woman,” I retort, my tone lightening. In the blink of an eye, Lincoln’s able to shift my outrage into something else, something much more electrifying. “Bachelorette parties are akin to torture.”
“Then you’d probably like this woman. I know I did from the instant she finally spoke and told me off because she thought I was trying to hit on her.”
“But you weren’t?”
“No,” he answers smoothly, then quickly corrects himself. “Well, I mean, in a way, I suppose. I don’t know. But something drew me to help this stunning woman when some drunk guy, who thought she was a prostitute, wouldn’t leave her alone. Regardless of whether I was lucky enough to find out her name, I needed to go to her, to remind her there are decent people in the world.” He leans toward me and cups my cheeks in his hands. “That there are people who think the world of her, regardless of what others have led her to believe.”
As I relish in the heat of his rough skin on mine, I whimper, not wanting this moment to come to an end before it has a chance to begin.
“That I think the world of her, regardless of what my behavior has led her to believe.”
All sense of where we are, who we are, flees from my mind at his captivating words, and I grab the back of his neck, forcing him to erase that final bit of space between us. The instant his lips press against mine, sparks shoot through me. Every inch of me floods with warmth, with desire, with need, our bodies molding together as we greedily reignite this connection we’ve done everything to pretend never existed.
I swipe my tongue along the seam of his mouth, begging to taste what I’ve been deprived of for too long. With a growl, Lincoln deepens the kiss, enclosing me in his firm body.
His hands move to my hips and he lifts me with ease, forcing my legs around his waist. Losing myself in him, I remain oblivious to how wrong this is. In this beautiful moment, nothing else matters. That he’s my professor. That I’m his student. That we’ve just eviscerated any line we had drawn. But the truth remains. There is no line. Not when it comes to Lincoln. Not when nothing else has ever felt so fucking right.
A man obsessed, he deposits me on the desk, sending neatly stacked files and papers to the floor. Tearing his lips from mine with a heady groan, he trails a hot path along my jawline, sucking and biting on my neck. The scruff of his trim beard is jarring and bruising, yet so wanted, making me feel more alive than I have in weeks.
“I could never forget you,” he assures me, his voice laden with desire. “You’re all I’ve been able to think about, Chloe. Every time I walk into class and see how incredible you look, all I can focus on is getting you alone again. Of feeling you again.”
“Then feel me.”
Pulsing against him, I reach for his pants, unbuckling his belt, desperate for him. As I’m about to lower his zipper, he grabs my wrist, stopping me. My eyes dart up, meeting his. I brace myself for him to tell me this is a mistake, that he lost his head. But he doesn’t. Instead, he brings his lips to mine, feathering soft kisses.
“I don’t have a condom.” He chuckles, the deep rumble electrifying. “I don’t exactly make a habit out of bringing girls back to my office for this sort of thing.”
“I don’t care,” I breathe. “Let me feel you.”
His mouth slams against mine once more as he squeezes my thigh, the pressure leaving no question there will be a mark. And just like our first night together, I’m confident that’s exactly what he wants. That every time I look at my body and see the bruises on my thighs and bite marks on my neck, I’ll be reminded of who put them there, who marked me, who branded me as his.
“I’m yours,” I exhale, giving him the confirmation I know he needs.
“Mine,” he snarls, an animal in heat.
“Yours. Always.”
“Mine,” he says again, this time softer, more heartfelt.
His hand moves up my leg, disappearing under my dress. When he pushes the skirt up around my waist, I meet his eyes. A devilish glint appears within as he hooks his fingers into the band of my panties…ones he bought for me. With quick movements, he lowers them down my legs before shoving them into his pocket.
“And those are mine, too.” He kisses me, starved and greedy.
“Yes. Yours.”
His teeth clamp onto my bottom lip, the pain dueling with the pleasure of what’s to come. Then he leans back, his eyes locking on mine. He runs his hand along my collarbone, traveling between the valley of my breasts, down my stomach, coming to a stop just shy of that place I’m desperate to have him touch, explore, command.
I should feel cheap and dirty, considering he has me on his desk, legs spread, leaving me exposed to his fully clothed body, but I don’t. I just want Lincoln. Any way I can get him.
He brings himself out of his pants, raising his arousal to me. My pulse skyrockets and I hold my breath, bracing to experience him with no barrier. He looks at me, an unspoken question in his tender gaze. I nod.
His pupils dilate, about to drive inside, when a knocking rips through the space. “Linc? It’s Tess.”
Every muscle in his body grows taut, all the color draining from his face. “Shit.”
Eyes that overflowed with primal heat mere seconds ago widen, filling with remorse and disgust. In a heartbeat, the Lincoln I met in Vegas is gone, transforming into the Lincoln I saw the first time I stepped foot in his classroom. Into Professor Moore.
“Just a minute,” he calls out, his voice trembling with anxiety as he hurriedly shoves himself back into his pants, readjusting his suit.
“I heard you ended class early.” There’s a pause before she speaks again, her voice lower. “That you got into it with Chloe Davenport. I wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”
“I’m in the middle of a phone call,” he replies as he practically throws me off the desk, pushing my skirt down to hide any hint of impropriety. When I remain in place, shocked from the sudden shift in demeanor, he grabs my bag and thrusts it at me.
I blink repeatedly, feeling like an errant child who was caught with her hand in the cookie jar when she knows it’s off-limits.
Like I know Lincoln’s su
pposed to be off-limits.
That doesn’t make this any easier.
“It was a misunderstanding. We’ve straightened it out. I can assure you it will never happen again.” His eyes narrow on me, his expression severe. It doesn’t take a genius to hear the true meaning behind his words.
“Okay,” Professor Gordon’s sweet voice carries through. “I’m around if you want to grab a drink.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be with you once I put out this fire.”
I listen as her footsteps retreat. Heat covers my face, making me momentarily oblivious of the consequences, and I reel back, landing a hard slap against his cheek, the sound seeming to reverberate in the small space.
At first, he’s stunned, his body frozen. I gave Lincoln a chance because I thought he was different. Thought nothing would turn him into an asshole. Thought he wouldn’t become like every other guy who made me feel cheap, useless.
But he’s just like them. Willing to get a piece until they’re reminded they have a wife, a girlfriend, a life they don’t want to lose. Maybe my father’s been right all along. Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe I’ll never be good enough.
Lincoln’s expression softens as he licks his lips. “Chloe, I—”
I quickly shoot up my hand, cutting him off. I want to tell him I’m going to the dean with the details of our relationship to spite him, but he’ll know it’s an empty threat. I was the one who didn’t want him to tell anyone.
“You’re right.” I square my shoulders, my words straining past the lump in my throat. “It was a misunderstanding, one that will absolutely never happen again. No matter what.” I storm toward the door, about to open it when he calls out to me.
“Chloe…” The timbre of his voice is tender, a complete contradiction to the way he just spoke to me.
As much as I know I shouldn’t, I look over my shoulder. Turmoil covers his expression and he moves toward me, his eyes pleading. I fully face him, hope building inside me that he’s about to apologize, say he made a mistake. Then he slowly reaches into his pocket, pulling out my panties.
“These are yours.” He holds them out toward me, swallowing hard, a hint of reluctance on his face.
Remember in elementary school when your teacher tried to shape your behavior toward others and promote kindness by saying that actions speak louder than words?
Well, this moment proves that’s true. Because this one action obliterates my heart more than any words ever could.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Wait a second,” Nora says the following Wednesday as she zips up the back of one of the bridesmaid gowns she’s considering for me.
Pulling the material to make it tighter, she glances at my reflection as I stand on a pedestal in front of a three-way mirror in the middle of a posh bridal boutique in Midtown. It’s a silver dress that hugs my body through my hips to where it falls a few inches above my knees. Thankfully Nora’s not sticking us all in the same color and style. We’ll all be wearing different tones and cuts, based on our body type and coloring. Better than Hannah’s wedding, when Izzy and I were forced to wear identical pink chiffon gowns that looked like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol got freaky with a cotton candy machine.
“You had sex in his office?”
Her voice carries through the space and I glare at her, but she doesn’t seem to care. I doubt any of the ladies who work here will flock to social media to dish about whatever hot gossip they overhear. They’ve probably heard much juicier stories than one of the bridesmaids almost sleeping with her college professor.
“We didn’t have sex,” I correct. “We almost had sex.”
“How close are we talking here?” Evie pipes up from her position on one of the uncomfortable looking chairs that would be more fitting in a Victorian tea room than a dressing room at a bridal boutique. “Are we talking ‘about to rip open a condom’ close? Or ‘a little tip action before the first thrust’ close?”
“There was definitely some tip. Although I’m not sure I’d call it just some.” My cheeks heat. “Lincoln is rather…gifted.”
We all giggle as I fan myself dramatically. As angry as I was initially, discussing everything with my friends is exactly what I need. They’re better than any therapist. They make me believe I’ll get through this little rough patch.
“What are you going to do?” Evie asks once our laughter dies down.
“What can I do? I should have stayed quiet. This never would have happened if I kept my mouth shut in class and pretended we have no history, just like he’s done.”
“And what? Risk an even bigger blow-up down the road?” Izzy quips before glancing at Nora. “By the way, that’s a good style choice for Chloe. Simple, straight lines work best since she has… What?” She looks back at me. “Size A boobs and no waist?”
I stick out my chest a little, but she’s not far off. “For your information, I’m a B-cup.”
“So you have graduated from the training bra.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Sorry I don’t have triple D boobs like all of you.”
“I’m only a C,” she argues back. “Now, getting back to Lincoln Moore—”
“Just Lincoln,” I correct.
“Whatever. This was bound to happen. Especially after the way he looked at you during Midge’s birthday party.”
“What?” Nora and Evie simultaneously fling their eyes toward me.
“He was at Midge’s party?” Nora spins me around to face her. “When were you going to share this with us?”
“Eventually… Maybe.”
“Why was he there?” Evie presses.
“Because instead of taking the day off to celebrate, my father had work come to him. Just like he did when I was growing up.” I grit a smile.
“Did you talk to him?” Nora asks, her voice lower.
“It was impossible not to. He was right there.”
“What happened?”
“What usually happens whenever I’m around my father. He made his usual cracks, how most people who go to college for ten years are doctors. And, of course, after learning I’ll graduate this May, he said he’d wait to pop the Champagne. He’s great for an ego boost, isn’t he?”
“How did Lincoln react to all this?” Evie asks.
A smile lights up my face. “Actually, he defended me. Said I was one of the most promising students he’s had the pleasure of teaching.”
The girls look at each other and sigh.
“Aww…” Nora places her hand over her heart. “So sweet. Your knight in shining armor coming to your rescue.”
I place a hand on my hip, fixing my expression. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor to come to my rescue. And I told him as much when he came into the kitchen later on.”
“I never asked what you guys ‘talked’ about.” Izzy waggles her brows, grinning deviously.
I stare into space, recalling with striking clarity the conversation I had with Lincoln. We talked about a lot of things, but one stands out.
“Love,” I murmur.
Three pairs of eyes instantly widen.
“What?” Evie gasps.
“In what context?” Izzy inquires, always the pragmatic one.
“Did he tell you he loved you?” Nora bounces on her feet.
“No, no, no.” Since it appears we’ve settled on this dress for me, I head back into the fitting room. “Not like that.”
“Then how?” Evie asks.
I pull on my jeans, then yank my top over my head before tugging my boots up my legs. Satisfied with my appearance, I walk into the sitting area, plopping down on a chair. “It was more in the context of my relationship with Midge and how he thought I was a conundrum.”
“Which he’s spot-on about,” Nora comments.
“I’m not that difficult to figure out.”
“Oh, come on.” She exaggeratedly rolls her eyes. “You’re hot, then cold. I can understand how Lincoln would be confused. You give off the impression you’re this tough bitch who doesn’t let
anything get to her. And that’s probably exactly what Lincoln thought because he didn’t have a chance to get to know the real Chloe. Not like we do. So I can only imagine his surprise when he walked into your father’s house to see you at a birthday party for the spawn of the man you loathe and his replacement wife, as you’ve always called her.”
“It’s not Midge’s fault she has a father who will never be happy with anything she does.”
My words linger in the air for a moment before Izzy speaks once more. “What happened next?”
I shake my head, trying to piece it all together. “I told him love makes people weak, to which he argued it makes you human. And then…”
“And then?” They all lean toward me, sitting on the edge of their seats. Literally.
Staring into the distance, a shiver rolls through me as I recall that exact moment. “He asked if I wanted to feel human. If I wanted to feel. He was so close. The closest he’d been to me in months. And then…”
“Yes?” Nora encourages as they all inch even closer, desperate for my story.
“We almost kissed.”
“Almost?” Izzy asks.
“My father came in talking about some emergency filing they needed to get done. So Lincoln went back to work.”
It’s silent for a moment. I don’t expect anyone to come up with a solution. This isn’t a problem that can be fixed. It’s just something I need to learn to live with for the next seven weeks. Then I’ll never have to see Lincoln again. At least I get a break this week with it being spring break.
“That’s it!” Evie slams her hand on the side table, startling us.
“What?”
“That’s what this is all about.”
“What is?” I scrunch my brows together, tilting my head.
“This whole thing with Lincoln. You’re worried he’ll choose his job over you.”
“He has chosen his job over me. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. It’s right there in the code of conduct.”
“Exactly.” She shoots up, tapping a finger against her lower lip. I can see the wheels spinning in her head. Never a good thing. “You were the one who insisted he not tell anyone about your relationship. He wanted to report it. Then after the semester, if there was still something there, you’d be free to pursue it. But you made sure there was no chance, under the guise of your father not finding out for fear he’d think you didn’t earn your degree.”