“It’s not heavy.”
She fought back a groan of frustration. Damn man would work himself into an early grave. That thought, as always, scared the hell out of her and she dashed toward the stairs that led to their home above the restaurant. “Let me go throw on my uniform and I’ll take over.”
“Take your time. I’ve got things in hand here. The real dinner rush is only just starting,” Pop answered, placing food in front of a couple of regulars before coming over to her with the empty tray in his hands.
“You’re not supposed to be doing any lifting. Hell, you aren’t supposed to be working at all. I thought we agreed that you’d take a couple of weeks off.”
“Now don’t you go lecturing me, Kiki. I’m older and wiser than you. That doctor is a flake, trying to get me to spend my hard-earned money on a bunch of useless pills.” This argument was tedious in its redundancy. Patrick Collins was king of the conspiracy theorists, sure everyone from lawyers to doctors to pharmacists were secret government agents dead-set on taking his money.
He tapped his chest as he spoke and Keira sighed. “Who knows what this body can do? Me, that’s who. This ticker has plenty more mileage on it.”
Keira gave in, only because she was anxious to continue the fight in her uniform so at least she could be waiting on the tables and cutting down on some of her father’s workload.
“Fine, Pop. You win for now. Let me go change and I’ll help you.”
As she climbed the stairs to the family’s living quarters, she ran into Sean, her youngest brother, at the door. She loved all her siblings dearly but if forced to decide, she had to admit to a special fondness for the eighteen-year-old Sean. Perhaps it was because he felt more like her own child, rather than just a brother. While she’d merely taken on the mother role figuratively in her other siblings’ lives, she truly had raised Sean, who had only been nine when their mother died.
“Where are you going?” she asked as he put on his coat. “It’s a school night.” Even as she asked the question, she internally winced. She just couldn’t seem to kick the mother hen habit where he was concerned.
“Big history project due tomorrow. I’m going to Chad’s house to work on it.”
“Oh, okay. Well listen, don’t be too late. Did you eat something?”
“Chad’s mom’s having lasagna. She invited me to eat with them.”
“Sorry about dinner,” she said, guilt pummeling her. Prior to her decision to attend college, she’d always made sure there was at least something on the table for dinner. Her mother had ensured the family gathered for dinner upstairs, away from the hubbub of the restaurant, and for years Keira had managed to maintain that tradition. In many ways, she felt as though she was letting her family down through her decision to continue her education.
Sean grinned and gave her a quick hug. “Are you kidding me? Chad’s mom makes the world’s greatest lasagna. She makes it from scratch.”
She laughed. “What? You mean people actually eat lasagna that doesn’t come in a box marked Stouffer’s? You’re kidding me.”
“Riley would flip out to hear you even mention frozen lasagna.”
Keira nodded. “Yeah well, that’s clearly why she took over the cooking duties as soon as she was old enough.” Riley was destined to become the greatest chef in Baltimore. Despite being only twenty-one, she was setting the city on its ear with her delicious recipes. Since she’d assumed the role as chef in the restaurant, business had nearly doubled as folks came from far and near to eat her traditional Irish dishes.
“I gotta go or I’ll be late. See you later, Keira.”
“Bye, Sean. Be careful.” He rolled his eyes at her warning. It was the same warning she gave him every time he left the house. They were the identical words her mother had always said to her and she was determined Sean would have the same life he would have had if their mother hadn’t been taken from him when he was so young.
She changed quickly and returned to the restaurant just in time for the dinner rush. She was so busy she didn’t have time to worry about the prospect of returning to Professor Wallace’s office until she fell into bed that night. It was well after two a.m. and she knew she should be too tired to think, but her mind kept lingering on a dangerous, delicious fantasy.
In her thoughts, she’d overslept and was running late…
She rushed into Professor Wallace’s office shortly after nine with an apology hovering on her lips.
“Shut the door, Miss Collins,” he said before she could speak. “And lock it.”
She obeyed, wondering at his too-calm disposition.
“Come here.”
Again she complied and a tiny part of her marveled at his ability to make her follow his commands. She wasn’t the type of person to take orders easily from anyone. She’d spent far too much of her life in charge, the responsibility of caring for her family weighing heavily on her shoulders.
“You’re late,” he said.
Again she started to apologize, but he placed a firm finger against her lips, halting all sound.
“I warned you.”
She nodded.
“Turn around and bend over the desk. Lift your skirt in the back.”
She shivered at his request before her fantasy broke briefly.
Why am I wearing a skirt? I never wear them.
Shrugging off the wayward thought, she bent over his big desk, her mind only slightly aware of the fact the surface had been cleared.
His hand lightly brushed the back of her thigh as he helped her raise her skirt to her waist. She whimpered softly at the impact of his touch.
“Shh,” he soothed. “This is for your own good.” As he spoke, he brought his hand down against her buttocks. Over and over he spanked her as she trembled against the wooden desk. Her body revolted against her mind, the ingrained part of her that said this was wrong, as she lurched back, aching for more of his blows. His hand fell without restraint, without ceasing, and before she could make sense of what was happening, she came. Loudly.
“Ahh!” Keira bolted upright in bed and glanced around, afraid she’d woken her sisters with her cry. Riley and Teagan didn’t stir, a fact for which she was grateful. They’d think she’d had a nightmare and there was no way she could explain that fantasy to them.
She silently gasped for breath, her body trembling, demanding the climax she’d dangled in front of it then ruthlessly denied. A trickle of sweat ran down her cheek. She wiped it away, wrapping her arms around her bent knees, trying to regain some semblance of control.
She’d never fantasized about such things before entering Professor Wallace’s class. In the four short months she’d been his student, her mind had wandered to so many dark, forbidden places she wondered if the man had somehow hypnotized her. She’d never experienced such intense, powerful fantasies. She took a deep, calming breath and lay down again.
Figured. Her first real taste of hardcore, passionate need and it was directed at a man who was completely unattainable. He was her teacher, for God’s sake. She glanced at the clock. In six hours she would be alone with him—and heaven help her, because she was sure she’d never be able to hide her desires from his too-knowledgeable gaze.
He was too perceptive, too attentive.
Too everything.
Chapter Two
Keira stood outside the door to Professor Wallace’s office and took a deep breath. It was five minutes to nine and she was functioning on less than two hours sleep. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, distracted by one red-hot fantasy after another. It seemed the good professor had hit three sevens in her sexual jackpot and had released the flood of coins—or in her case—unending, flowing arousal.
No use prolonging the agony. She straightened her bag on her shoulder and knocked.
“Come in,” his deep voice beckoned. She shivered at the sound and wondered how in the hell she’d make it through this meeting without ripping her clothes off and throwing herself on his desk.
; Opening the door, she stepped inside, tentatively hovering on the threshold. He looked up from the stack of papers before him and offered her that too-gorgeous smile.
“You’re right on time, Keira. I like that.”
She nodded and smiled tremulously. One glance at his handsome face and her body was already staging its own show. A quick glance down proved her nipples were rock hard and poking through her cotton blouse. As she started across the room, she felt an unfamiliar stickiness between her legs. Christ. She was soaking wet.
“Please shut the door,” he said, after she’d only gone two steps. She turned to close the door with a shaking hand and cursed her weakness. She was running on empty and seriously wishing she’d gotten some sleep.
As she approached the desk, she stopped and stared briefly at the smooth surface. For a moment, her dream of lying facedown upon it drifted back and she felt a rush of heat flush her cheeks. Mercifully, Professor Wallace didn’t seem to notice her distress.
“I trust you brought your past assignments.”
She nodded and reached into her bag, pulling out the endless stack of C papers she’d accumulated over the semester.
“I thought we’d begin by looking at the very first paper you wrote for my class again. I believe it was the one-page description of a special place.”
She shifted through her essays, recalling her dismay at discovering a C-minus on her first paper. Little did she know the trend would continue for weeks on end. She’d been pleased with her description of the restaurant and sure the paper would receive an A. Finding it in the stack, she handed it to him.
“Ah yes. You wrote about your family’s restaurant, Pat’s Irish Pub. An interesting choice.” He looked down as he spoke and she remained silent as he briefly skimmed her writing. “This is the family restaurant where you work.”
She nodded. She’d yet to speak a word, too afraid her voice would betray her nervousness, her agitation.
“Tell me why you chose the restaurant as your special place.”
She considered his question for a moment, wondering how much she should share. She shrugged. “I suppose I wrote about it because I’ve spent so much of my life there.”
He frowned and she sensed he wasn’t happy with her answer. “I’ve lived in the same apartment for twelve years. I wouldn’t choose it as my special place merely because of its familiarity.”
Twelve years. Again, she tried to guess his age. If he began teaching at twenty-two, he could be as young as thirty-four. He cleared his throat and she shook herself, aware he was waiting for her response.
“The restaurant is more than just a home to me.” The moment he’d issued the assignment, she’d known she would write about the restaurant. It was the first place she’d thought of.
“What is your major, Keira?”
She sucked in a breath at her name on his lips. Why did the mere sound of it run through her like a tornado-force wind?
“I’m a business major.”
“That makes sense,” he replied with a nod.
“I don’t understand.”
He grinned. “In my experience, business majors tend to cut to the chase. They are rather no-nonsense kind of people.”
She thought he’d described her well. She also knew he didn’t consider his words to be a compliment.
“Your description of the restaurant is very factual, very observant, very boring.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It’s detailed and accurate.”
“Close your eyes, Keira.”
Her voice seized up as she considered his request. When she was able, she muttered one question. “Why?” Her heart raced at the idea of leaving herself even a tiny bit vulnerable in his presence.
“I want to do an experiment.” He waited and she realized that refusal would be futile. Professor Wallace was a man who didn’t take no for an answer. That thought sent a fresh round of juices to her already-drenched panties and she squeezed her legs together to fight the onslaught.
He quirked his eyebrow and she slowly closed her eyes.
“Describe this room.” She started to open her eyes but he halted her. “With your eyes closed.”
She struggled to remember what any part of the room looked like. She’d been so preoccupied with the office’s lone inhabitant that she’d failed to truly look around. The only piece of furniture that seemed vaguely familiar was the desk, and even then, only from her rather raunchy fantasies.
“There’s a desk in the middle of the room,” she said at last.
His light chuckle sent her hackles up and she forced herself to try to think of more. “There are bookshelves on the wall.” Which wall, she couldn’t recall.
“Stop relying on what you can see, Keira.”
She considered his suggestion and realized she could sense many things about the room. “It smells of leather in here. Leather and old books and,” she paused, sniffing the delicate odors, “your cologne.”
“Very good. What else?”
She turned her head slightly and was immediately struck by the silence. “I can’t hear anything. It’s remarkably quiet in here.”
He seemed to agree. “One of the reasons I hold my office hours so early. I relish the peacefulness. By this afternoon, the noise of all the students out in the hallway and on the campus outside my window will fill this room. You mentioned the desk. It’s right in front of you. Touch it.”
She bent forward, thankful her eyes were closed, praying he couldn’t detect the slight shaking of her hand.
“How does it feel?”
“Smooth,” she replied, running her hand along the surface. “And cooler than I would have imagined. It would feel cold against my cheek.” Her eyes flew open when she realized the strangeness of her remark.
Professor Wallace’s eyes were studying her intently.
She cleared her throat, anxious to fill the uncomfortable silence with noise. “I, um, I see what you mean.”
He nodded slowly and she wondered if he’d question her comment.
“Close your eyes again,” he instructed. She complied, aware that the previous silence of the room was now filled with the unbearable loudness of her pounding heart. “Describe your family’s restaurant. Don’t tell me what you see, Keira. That’s already in the paper. Tell me the rest. Tell me why this place is so special.”
Thankful he hadn’t questioned her observation about his desk, she envisioned the pub. “My family lives above the restaurant. I’m one of seven children so I suppose you can imagine it’s pretty crowded. My mother was the cook before she died and on special holidays, when the restaurant was closed, she’d go downstairs to the big kitchen to prepare our meals and we’d eat at the tables in the big dining room. Even though the restaurant was basically home, my mother always made it feel like we’d gone out somewhere special to eat.”
She paused for a moment, smiling as she recalled the extra effort her mother expended to ensure the holidays were always perfect for her children. The tablecloths, the candlelight, the grape juice served in fancy wineglasses that they all used to make toasts and laugh and pretend they were grown-ups.
Professor Wallace’s next question brought her back to the present. “I imagine the restaurant must have smelled lovely.”
She started to open her eyes to respond to his question but she realized that, without sight, there was a security, a safety in speaking her mind that didn’t exist when she could see his face. If she was looking at him, she would fail to concentrate on her subject and instead spend too much time trying to figure out what he was thinking of her recollections. She kept her eyes firmly shut.
“The smells were incredible, warm and sweet. I know Christmas can’t really have a smell, but in my mind, it does. Cinnamon, pine, fresh-baked bread.”
“And your mother?” he asked.
Keira smiled. “She had a smell too. Sugar cookies. My mother smelled like sugar cookies.” The memory, the brief burst of happiness at recalling her mother’s scent, turned quickly
to the piercing sadness that had resided in her heart for nine years.
“What about the sounds in the restaurant?” he asked.
She sensed he hoped to return her to the joy of the scene, but it was gone. She opened her eyes and looked at him as she spoke.
“My mother sang as she cooked. She had the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard. Well, except for Teagan, my sister—she has my mother’s talent for singing.”
“Look at your paper, Keira.”
She glanced down at the page and briefly read her staid descriptions of the tables, chairs, bar. She’d spent nearly an entire paragraph describing the color and texture of the walls.
He tapped his finger on the paper. “The place on that paper doesn’t seem very special to me. The place you just described sounds like one of the nicest places on earth. Write about that place.”
She looked up and nodded. “I understand.”
He grinned and, for the first time, she returned it. “There were two other assignments,” he picked up her stack of papers and flipped through it, “that would benefit from that same sort of description. Engage all your senses and rewrite these three papers. You can turn them in tomorrow morning when we meet again. Nine o’clock still okay?” He handed her the assignments and she mentally tried to figure out how in her busy schedule she was going to revise three assignments by tomorrow.
“Nine is fine.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said, and, dismissed, she turned to leave.
As the door closed behind her, Will sank down into his leather chair and tried to understand the grip this young woman had on him. He’d never been attracted to a student before, yet from the first moment she’d stepped foot in his class, Keira Collins had shaken his unwavering sense of self down to a pile of rubble. She’d destroyed his willpower and was systematically, unwittingly breaking down every standard, every principle he’d built his career upon.
Clasping his hands together, he wondered how in the hell he’d manage to keep his hands off her these next two weeks.
He’d been a damn fool to invite her to his office last night, and then outright insanity had claimed him as he’d extended the offer to work with her on her writing—alone, every morning. He was tempting fate in the worst possible way. He was a teacher and he could not—would not—seduce a student. The fact she was older and far more mature than his usual pupils shouldn’t make a difference.
First Taste: A Collection of Hot Alpha Doms Page 21