by Tessa Bailey
Todd retuned a moment later with two plastic cups of lemonade, three cookies cradled in his arm. He handed her a glass of lemonade. She waited for him to offer her a cookie. He didn’t. “You look hot.”
Mental eye roll. “Thanks. This is my roommate’s dress.”
“Is she hot?”
“Her boyfriend thinks so.” This was going well. “So are you from out of state?”
“Oh man, I can’t believe that asshole is here.” Todd turned slightly so both of their backs were toward the exit, his shoulder pressing against hers. Honey’s pulse jumped, but not because of Todd’s proximity. No, she had a good idea which “asshole” her quasi-date was referring to, and yes, their last encounter had been decidedly shitty, but she still didn’t like him being called an asshole. Unless she was the one doing it. Three cheers for making sense.
“Which asshole are you talking about?” She sipped her lemonade. Store-bought. Blech. “There’s a lot of them in this city. The overcrowding makes it kind of inevitable.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying half the time, but the accent makes it cute.” He popped a cookie into his mouth. “Professor Dawson. The man in tweed. Do you know he gave me a D on my last paper?”
The back of Honey’s neck started to heat. Was Ben looking at her? The warmth in her neck traced a downward path to her legs, and she suddenly felt overexposed. It didn’t make her want to cover up, though. It made her feel feverish. Sexy. As if they were back in the classroom, Ben’s hands creeping up her thighs, those thumbs massaging devastating circles into her sensitive flesh. God, she hadn’t even set eyes on him yet and already her body was reacting to him. Knowing her nipples had gone hard, she crossed her arms and tried to focus on Todd. What had he said? Oh right, he’d gotten a D. “Did you do the extra credit?”
“Hell no. I can barely manage the regular credit.” Todd brushed a stray piece of hair off her shoulder, and she barely restrained a flinch. “Maybe you can help me study.”
As inconspicuously as possible, Honey put a few inches of distance between her and Todd. There was no more help for it, her gaze immediately bounced around the room, looking for Ben.
She sucked in a breath when they finally locked eyes. Just like in the library yesterday, seeing him outside the classroom gave her belly an extra kick. He’d taken off the tweed jacket and draped it over his arm, black dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. His hair looked a little more haphazard than usual, as if he’d been tugging on it with his fingers all day. She desperately wanted to be the one to mess it up. When Ben raised an eyebrow, she realized her thoughts were showing on her face and quickly reminded herself she was mad as hell at him. With a raised eyebrow of her own, she turned back to Todd and smiled. “Should we find a seat?”
Honey and Todd took a seat toward the back, joining a few of her friends in the premed program, who had just started to arrive. Having gone a full five minutes without looking at Ben, Honey was feeling pretty smug until the professor took a seat two rows ahead of her. With another, older woman who wasted no time resting her hand on his arm and whispering in his ear.
Honey didn’t hear a single damn word of the poetry reading.
BEN LET OUT the breath he’d been holding since the reading started, grateful it was over. He liked Viv, one of his fellow English teachers. In fact, she was the type of woman he usually dated. Midthirties, divorced, and not looking for anything serious. Straightforward. Unlike a certain blonde in a short pink dress whose presence he’d felt for the last hour as if she’d been sitting on his lap, kissing his neck, talking in his ear.
Who is she, Ben? Imaginary Honey had asked him, her voice all soft and twangy, making him glad he’d draped his coat over his lap. Why is she sitting so close to you? I know all you want to do is drag me away from Johnny Jerk Off in the back row and fuck me in the stairwell.
But Honey wasn’t sitting on his lap, nor was she talking to him. He’d once again proven himself a purveyor of douchebagery in the library, talking to her like a wayward student who didn’t know her own mind, when he knew from her work that the opposite was true. Had she moved on already? Found someone who’d appreciate her equal parts of maturity and youthfulness? God, he’d enjoyed talking to her yesterday and hated that someone else was enjoying that privilege now. She was wearing that sexy forties pinup outfit for another guy, and since he’d decided to show up to the reading anyway, despite his better judgment, he was sitting with Viv, who apparently had no qualms about stroking his arm like a cat in front of their colleagues.
Ben stood from his seat, a little surprised when Viv linked their arms together and tugged him toward a group of English department faculty members. She’d expressed her interest in going out with him on one or two occasions and he’d considered asking her out, but he’d never expected her to make a move like this. Honestly, he should have been more than happy to go with it, perfectly content to let Honey see how different she was from his usual conquests. He shouldn’t even be thinking about Honey. Unfortunately, she’d turned in another brilliant essay. So when he combined the heartfelt words she’d given him and her soft voice reaching him across the shelf in the library, then threw in the memory of silky thighs leading to touchable, lily-white panties, he more than thought about her. In fact, he was wondering if he’d maybe gone swerving past the boundaries of attraction and veered straight into the fixation lane.
Viv and his colleagues immediately launched into a discussion about the poetry reading, but Ben found himself glancing toward Honey. She wasn’t looking at him this time. Jesus, he hated that. Hated not being able to command her attention the way he did in class, when she had no choice but to look at him. He’d gotten spoiled by those full hours of having her look nowhere else. Instead, those big golden eyes were trained on Johnny Jerk Off, as if his backward Texas Longhorns hat held the meaning of life. It was possible he’d completely cured her of the attraction she felt for him. Again, that should be good news. Great news. So why did it feel like acid was bubbling in his gut every time she laughed at another man’s joke? Why did he feel like both of them were doing something wrong by spending time with other people and not each other? Because it felt wrong. It just did.
Peter wedged himself in between Ben and Viv, earning himself an annoyed female stare. Ben barely stifled the urge to slap the usually irritating Peter on his back in welcome. The urge died when he saw the concern on Peter’s face. He should have known a conversation about last night’s Yankees game wasn’t in the cards. Not after Peter had seen the beginnings of an obviously personal argument between Ben and Honey.
“Hey, Ben.” Peter tossed a look over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Did you see who’s here?”
Ben tossed back the rest of his lemonade, wishing it were a cold beer. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“The blonde,” Peter murmured. “In the pink dress.” When Ben didn’t respond, mainly because he was focusing on not getting in Peter’s face and asking why he was paying such close attention to what Honey was wearing, his colleague continued with a sigh. “Look, she’s obviously got some kind of crush on you.”
Ben’s stomach muscles flexed involuntarily to counteract the sudden hot ache. Honestly, all that over the idea of her having a crush on him? His mental status was beginning to appear questionable. “Say what you want to say, Peter.”
“Look, I think you need to give some more thought to what I said before.” Peter shook his head. “She stays after class to get you alone. She shows up here. All it would take is that sting of rejection to file a complaint and your job would be in jeopardy. Head it off at the pass. Be up front and write a formal letter to Dean Mahoney, letting him know a student has shown interest in you. That way, if blondie ever claims you harassed her, you’ve already been honest. It will count in your favor.”
Ben had to admit there was some truth to what Peter was saying. If he wanted to make sure his job stayed secure, this would be a way to ensure that. The problem being, anything he put in th
at letter would mostly be horseshit. No one had held a gun to his head when he’d lifted up Honey’s skirt to get a look at her panties. Her thighs. Her pussy. No one had done that but him. She might have deceived him at the outset, but the blame for what happened after didn’t lay squarely on her shoulders.
“Thanks. I’ll think about it,” Ben mumbled, mostly to end the conversation with Peter. He rejoined the conversation with the rest of his colleagues for a few minutes, resisting his impulse to glance over at Honey. Not with Peter standing there, seemingly watching his every move. But when Peter excused himself to use the restroom, Ben found himself unable to hold off any longer. He angled his body away from Viv and turned, just in time to see her leave the hall with Johnny Jerk Off.
He stood very still for a moment, trying and failing to ignore the rush of denial. Where were they going? Back to some smelly dorm room to hang a sock on the doorknob while they . . . No. Not her. Please not her. Why did that guy actually make an effort to show up here? Didn’t guys like that blow shit off for nickelwing night at the bar down the street? It was possible the guy was genuinely nice, despite being a garbage speller. Maybe I’m the jerk-off. Yes, clearly that was the case, because he was standing there staring at any empty doorway while the girl who’d written a paper from Lolita’s POV as the literary heroine traversed the politics in an old folk’s home was leaving with another guy. He hadn’t even said hi to her. His arm was once again being tucked into Viv’s side, and he wanted to yank it away.
No, he just had. He’d yanked it away, and now the circle of professors was staring at him. Not Peter, though, Peter was still in the bathroom. Which only gave Ben a few seconds to get out of here.
“I . . . uh.” He made a vague gesture toward his throat. “Need something to drink besides lemonade. Going to make a trip to the vending machine.”
He thought he heard Viv offering to walk with him, but he was already halfway to the door. What the fuck was he doing? When he found Honey and Johnny, was he going to give them detention? Jesus, he didn’t know. He only knew he needed to stop Honey from having bad dorm-room sex. He just needed to stop her, period, and make her look at him. With that convoluted goal in mind, he rode the elevator to the first floor and strode down the deserted hallway to push open the exit door, thinking he’d see them hopping into a cab or walking hand in hand toward the subway. The thought of it made him sick to his stomach.
Nowhere. He saw them nowhere. Honey, Lolita, his closet girl. She’d been spirited away by a teenager doused in Axe body spray. His head started to pound, drowning out the traffic on Broadway. He felt like he’d just stepped off one of those carnival rides whose sole purpose was to spin until it stole your equilibrium. He hated those rides, but they were nothing compared to this. Without a destination or plan in place, Ben pushed back through the doors leading into the building.
Honey stood at the end of the dim hallway. Alone.
Relief almost doubled him over, but he didn’t have time for that, because he needed to get to her. She hadn’t left with another guy. Halle-fuckin-lujah. As soon as he started walking toward her—because really, he didn’t have a choice in the matter—she stepped into the classroom to her right. Ben knew exactly what would happen if the two of them got inside that classroom together with the door shut. He also knew it was fucking inevitable. He’d never wanted anything more in his life, and he wasn’t capable of giving a damn at the moment that a faculty-heavy party was in full swing a few floors up. His girl hadn’t left with another guy and he’d made her pussy hurt by touching it twice and not making her come. That’s all he fucking knew.
Last time you touched me there, you walked away and it . . . it hurt, Ben. I still hurt . . . please don’t tease me.
Ben walked faster, faster until he was almost jogging.
Chapter 8
HONEY BACKED AWAY from the doorway slowly, waiting for Ben to appear inside it. This Ben, the one she’d seen at the end of the hallway, was not the Ben who lectured about Hemingway to a hall full of students. This wasn’t even the Ben who’d gotten mad at her in the storage closet. Not even close. The Ben she’d just watched launch himself after her had looked miserable and a little lost. Then. Then he’d looked a whole lot ready for something else. Like, hard, angry screwing. With her.
Good. She wanted it, too. She’d wanted him for a month, and he’d gone after her. Whatever had happened upstairs, he’d gone after her. So she would worry about the rest of it tomorrow. When tomorrow came and went and he realized she didn’t do it for a grade, that niggling issue would take care of itself. They couldn’t be together because he was her professor? Fine. Fine. But she’d watched that woman paw him for the last hour while he’d refused to even make more than the barest eye contact with her, calling territorial instincts she didn’t even know she possessed to the surface.
Did going after him after he’d insulted her character make her weak? No, it didn’t. Weak would be hiding in the back of the classroom for the rest of the semester, pretending she didn’t want him. Denying the attraction until it went away. That wasn’t what she was about. What this was about. She needed him, and if he followed her in here, he needed her right back. In her estimation, acknowledging what she wanted and taking it made her strong.
Ben sounded out of breath when he rounded the doorway into the classroom. He stood outlined by the frame for a moment, looking her over from head to toe. Burning her. God, he looked amazing. If possible, his stubble had grown more pronounced during the reading, hair standing out at every direction. Honey trapped a gasp in her throat when he slammed the door behind him and came toward her, moving so fast her heart shot to her throat. His long legs ate up the distance. The weight of his determined gaze had her gripping the large metal desk behind her for balance.
Just before Ben reached her, she shot forward and met him, their mouths preying on one another’s, hot and hungry. He hauled her body up against his, bending her backwards over his forearm and yanking her back up, as if he couldn’t decide how he wanted her. How to get close enough. His fingertips traced the hem of her dress before slipping beneath to skim up the inside of her thigh. When his warm hand molded to the flesh between her legs and squeezed, Honey broke away with a moan.
“Does it still hurt?” He grated the question at her lips. “Tell me it still hurts so I can lick it better.”
A sharp exhale burst from her mouth. “It still hurts.”
Her ass hit the metal desk before she’d even registered him picking her up. It was the first time she’d ever seen him without glasses. At some point during their kiss he’d taken them off and stowed them somewhere unseen. She’d always wondered if he’d be even more handsome without them on and decided then that he was incredible both ways. With or without. Without, however, he didn’t remotely resemble her English professor anymore. No. With his black dress shirt shoved up to his elbows and hair falling across his forehead, he looked masculine, sexual. Like a man. She’d never been with a man. Only boys. Excitement, anticipation, of what was to come whipped through her midsection before moving lower. Lower.
Ben gripped her knees tightly in his hands. “Is this going to get you out of my system?”
“I don’t know.” Honey took a deep breath and slid her dress up to her waist, revealing the tiny triangle of blue silk between her legs. “Is it going to get you out of mine?”
He groaned, hands kneading her thighs. “I shouldn’t want the answer to be no, right?” As if irritated at himself for saying those words out loud, he twisted his fingers in the sides of her panties and yanked them down her legs. Honey said a quick prayer to the waxing gods that she’d let Roxy drag her to get her first Brazilian one week prior, because the fierce, blanketing lust that fell over Ben’s face made it worth the pain. A gruff sound escaped his lips, and he shook his head. “You’ve been sitting in my lectures hiding this sweetness beneath your skirt, babe?”
My sweet Lord. “Yes.”
“Not anymore. I can see all of your bare little pu
ssy now. Can’t I?”
“Yes.”
The hardening of his jaw was the only warning she had before he circled her knees with his hands and jerked her to the edge of the desk. In one movement, he got to his knees and shoved her legs open further. After that, Honey’s thoughts were only of Ben’s mouth. Ben’s tongue. She wished she could un-bow her back long enough to watch him, but the wicked sensations he created kept her head thrown back, staring blindly at the classroom ceiling. His mouth moved like a wave, smooth and determined, devouring her with wide, openmouthed kisses that left her gasping. The first time his upper lip brushed against her clit, Honey jerked on the desk, hands darting involuntarily to weave through his hair and hold him closer. A vibration emanated from his mouth, buzzing over her sensitive nub like the greatest vibrator known to man as he brushed his lips back and forth over the sensitive spot.
“Please, Ben. Please.”
Another brush of lips. “Pull my hair. Harder. Show me how bad you want me to take away the hurt.”
Honey tugged hard on the strands wrapped around her fingers, savoring Ben’s growl. He took her ankles in his hands and threw them both over his shoulders, burying his mouth at her core. His lips closed around her aching bud, drawing hard. And she flew. She flew backwards on the desk, body shaking as the climax gripped her, but her mind flew, too. Out of the classroom to a green meadow where bunny rabbits frolicked and someone strummed an acoustic guitar while lounging in a hammock.
She was brought back to reality by her own voice chanting, “Oh God, Ben. Oh God, Ben,” on a constant loop, but she was abruptly cut off when he pulled her off the desk. Her stomach encountered the straining erection in his pants as she slipped off the metal desk, a reminder that they weren’t finished yet. Ben was breathing heavily, sweat dotting his forehead. As soon as her feet hit the floor, his hands disappeared underneath her dress and gripped her ass with strong fingers. He looked to almost be in pain as he walked her backwards, around the desk, to push her up against the wall, his hands hard and punishing on her backside the entire way.