He leans in close to me, close enough to feel his body heat brush against mine and cause goosebumps to pebble over my arms. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here? Maybe I can help?”
Our eyes stay locked until Maddox breaks the spell to walk me over to a set of chairs positioned against the wall. He takes one and pulls me down into another beside him.
Still a little shell-shocked by the events in my day, I give in and follow his lead. It’s not my normal method of operation, but I kind of like him taking over. It allows me to get a handle on my thoughts and wrap some kind of control around my reaction to being so close to him.
I clasp my hands in my lap after placing my purse on the chair behind me. Anything to keep my eyes from roaming all over his body.
“Ms. McBride, you seem a little out of sorts. Why? How can I help?”
An inner battle erupts in my head. Spill the beans or soldier on like I always do. Unsure under the weight of his stare I shrug because it’s truest answer I have ready. “I came here to see the board on an extension. Unless you can help me with that, there’s not much you can do, Dean Spencer.”
He swivels in the chair to face me, taking my smaller hand in his larger one. Warm, gentle and kind. I don’t feel so alone in this cold world when his palm glances over mine, and I’m bottling those rare feelings like precious elements because I don’t know what I’ll ever experience them again.
My silver lining: he’s finally touching me.
Maddox gauges my expression. “You can trust me, Amber.”
Hearing my given name on his lips for the first time warms me to the core. I mean, I’ve stripped for him and bared my body, but a name holds power and to have him say it out loud makes my body tremble.
“Maddox,” I whisper, unsure of what is happening. I mean, I know, but I don’t. Nothing has ever been personal between us. The uncertainty of him touching me, of the excitement I feel and the guilt runs wild through me and of the guilt of wanting more and knowing I shouldn’t.
The full force of his attention in a lot to bear, and I’m not totally sure I can handle the intense look in his eyes. Fierce, hungry and protective.
My gaze drops to our connected hands then back up to find him looking at me.
“I don’t think you can help with this. It’s really not up to you, but the board,” I say quietly. “But thank you.”
Maddox cups my chin a moment before running the back of his fingers over my cheek. “Are you sure about that?”
Spontaneous craziness takes over and guides my other hand to settle over his.
“Maddox, how about—oh, excuse me.”
Jolted out of the moment, both Maddox and I drop our hands at the sound of his name coming from the door.
Mortified, I turn, eyes wide. Oh crap. This is bad.
Professor Michaels, my law teacher, with her too-tight bun, red stilettos, and a razor-sharp eye draws up short, her hand clenched around the handle of the door.
Just great. With how her eyes have turned a heavy mixture of ice and fury, albeit banked, she is no doubt surprised to find me practically sitting on the dean’s lap with heated cheeks and puckered nipples.
She’s the silent, strong type and I’m hoping one who doesn’t like to stir up conflict. Her gaze travels over the spot where my knee brushes the dean’s and her lips purse together when she spots the way he’s turned his massive body toward me. I might as well be riding him reverse cowgirl from the way her spine stiffens.
Clearly aware she caught him touching me, her gaze doesn’t linger long. Nor does her instant smile at finding me with her intended weekend entertainment.
With an arched brow and grim expression, her attention hones in on my bright shade of lipstick next and then my boobs. More specifically my nipples, which wanted in on the action they picked up coming from Maddox a moment ago and haven’t received the memo to stand down. I tighten the sides of my jacket around me and tuck my head.
Well hello, kettle and pot. It’s not like the professor isn’t sporting a fiery red shade of lipstick of her own. I might be a virgin but that doesn’t mean jack when it comes to reading signs. That is one talent I have in spades.
“I didn’t realize you were busy, Dean Spencer. I thought everyone had left already and we were alone,” she says flatly if not with a sharp edge.
“Professor Michaels, how can I help you?”
The dean doesn’t sound too happy at the interruption but I can help but wonder if these two were dating from the deeply grim look on the professor’s perfectly made-up face.
One, how embarrassing to be found holding his hand and two, if they weren’t dating at least one of them seems to think the idea is a good one which just as bad. A scorned woman is a dangerous one and I can’t afford to have enemies.
Professor Michaels sighs the most disappointed sigh that I almost feel sorry for her. Clearly, she had plans on how she wanted to spend her Saturday and the dean was at the top of that list.
I shove down the ugly green head of jealousy snarling in my mind and instead, shove to my feet, grabbing my purse.
“Sorry,” I answer trying not to let my own disappointment show. “I’m on my way out anyway.” I turn my head, “Thanks for trying to help, Dean. Spencer.”
He tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to decode my words and then the most suspicious look comes over him before he features tighten with what is seemingly disapproval. I can’t really tell with him.
Being here isn’t solving any of my problems, but it sure the hell is creating more. I take my leave and don’t look back, hitting the parking lot in a mad dash.
Getting caught with my hands on the dean doesn’t shine a great light on me. One thing is for sure, I won’t have to worry about my tuition anymore if Professor Michaels decides she wants to press the matter. If that happens, I’ll be kicked out and there’s nothing he nor I can do about it.
It’s starting to rain as I make my way back to my apartment. At this hour the local goons are sleeping and my landlord is across town taking care of his other unfortunate tenants in another building. I have just enough time to catch a nap, shower and get ready for work. If I’m lucky I can grab a double shift and pull in some heavy tips.
I pull up outside my apartment building to find a familiar suitcase sitting at the bottom of the stairs.
Every muscle in my body tenses and I white-knuckle the steering wheel.
No way I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. “What the…you gotta be kidding! No…no…NOOOOO!”
I slam on the brakes and fling the driver’s door open and hit the pavement running the second I slam the car into park. I don’t even bother killing the engine. All my things are sitting outside for anyone grabby-handed passer-by to snatch. To drive the knife deeper everything is getting soaked.
With little finesse, I shove a couple of soaked boxes, my pathetic suitcase and my college books in the back of my car, the rain masking my tears.
For a second I just stand there letting the rain pour over me as I contemplate my options, welcoming the cold rivets of water soaking me to the bone.
Call my friend Rosalee who is in the same predicament, bunk up with her? But I wouldn’t even be able to contribute to rent right now. Or food.
Which is absolutely pathetic. But none of that matters right now. She’s dealing with her own issues which involve her handsome psych professor. Long story there, but two is company and three is a crowd in that scenario.
In a panic my landlord or someone worse is lurking in the nearby bushes, I skitter back into the car, locking my doors. As chaotic thoughts and emotions bombard me a ping sounds off from my phone and I jump.
I grab the damn thing and flick it on. “Please let it be something good.”
“Paycheck will be late, expect a week from Monday.”
Son of a bitch!
Desperation has me biting at my nails. “What brilliant plan do you have now, Amber?”
There’s no way this night can get any wors
e.
Chapter Three
Maddox
Sugar.
That’s what they call her, and aptly so, but I know her real name. Amber McBride.
Smart. Stunning. Young and ambitious.
All good traits that have my dick hard since day one of seeing her in the back row, fourth brunette from the left and the prettiest of them all with her honey-colored eyes.
Hell, way too damn young for a man of my age. She’s too good for the likes of me and what I’ve seen and done in this lifetime. It doesn’t matter if I did it for land and country. The stain on my soul is permanent and she deserves better. I knew it when I spotted her that first time as much as I know it now.
Sweet to watch with a body made to tease a man. A body made for me and me alone. I can’t touch, but I crave a taste of her sweetness all the same. I’ve seen every part of her luscious curves except the beautiful pussy she keeps hidden behind glitter G-strings.
Women come and go for a man like me who is never home to tend to their needs. Up until now I was always off on one mission or another with the occasional fuck buddy when I returned stateside. Believe it or not, a man can only take so much meaningless sex. That’s why I’m surprised by my reaction to such a sweet, tender thing like Amber.
She’s nowhere near the settling down age, but the second her eyes found mine something in me snapped into place. Like a thousand-piece puzzle when the final piece falls into its jagged slots and you get the full, beautiful picture. I don’t know if that makes me complicated or broken.
Maybe both.
But it doesn’t take away the fact the woman I can’t have yet teases me from school to the stage has me toeing the razor-thin edge of my control daily and completes something inside me no other woman has come close to touching.
Bourbon in one hand, I settle back into the shadows and wait to start our little game. She dances, I watch, and in the morning we both pretend it never happened. I swirl the liquid and take in the sweet smell, wishing it was her scent filling my senses.
Strobe lights work the crowd, turning smooth curves of round hips and bouncing tits into gyrating lines of jerky movement that are starting to hurt my eyes.
I turn the untouched drink in front of me round and round, causing the amber liquid to whirl within its glass confines as I wait for the reason I’m here instead of back in my office going over paperwork as I should be.
Eight months ago, I was sitting in the middle of a combat zone waiting for my tour to end and now that I have my papers and freedom from Uncle Sam I’m right back where I started in a sense. No control over my destiny and it’s pissing me off.
I wanted away from all the noise that the military life offered and something that could give me a bit of quiet. Becoming a bearded mountain man didn’t sound half bad and sat at the top of my list until an old military buddy heard of my retirement. A fifteen-minute phone call and I had a new job that moved my rustic cabin idea to the back burner.
It wasn’t hard to land the job with my skill set and connections. To be honest, a decade of flying bullets, turmoil and endless reports was enough for me and why this job appealed. Don’t get me wrong—I love my country, my dress blues, and commanding the men under me as a Marine Corp Captain, but there comes a time in a man’s life when something else, something more, is needed. Or, at least that’s true in my case and I have the scars to prove it was only a matter of time before I had my time card punched for good. Before that can happen, I decided to stop pushing my luck and try out the other side of life that doesn’t involve a gun in my hand.
I shift my attention away from the stage. A few students I recognize and some I don’t hug the rim of the raised platform, throwing away their parent’s money. Others are dotted amongst faces I don’t recognize enjoying a night out with friends. To avoid awkward eye contact, I stick to the shadows and keep my head down for the most part.
The night I stepped into Insomnia for the first time I was fresh out of uniform and helping a buddy celebrate his engagement and my new job. That’s when I saw her.
At the time I had no idea Amber was forbidden fruit I shouldn’t want. But everything from her pink-tipped toes to the top of her head screamed back off. Hell, it’s wrong for me to be here now waiting for her to come on stage.
Five-three of delicious sun-kissed, dick-teasing perfection with the most gorgeous legs and beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I tighten my fist around my glass thinking about how her dark hair spills down her back to tease the tops of her ass. All those luscious locks make me want to run my hands through it as she moans my name. I’ve traveled the world over and have yet to see a woman with such beautiful amber eyes which fit her name to a T.
That first night I wanted to rip off her little cat woman leather getup and taste her sweet, creamy skin with my tongue right there on stage and in front of everyone like the sugar she is. The heated looks and breathy kisses she shot my way that first night didn’t help the beast inside me cool its jets any.
It’s safe to say that night everything clicked like I found some missing part of myself. A fire flamed inside me straight from the fire pits of hell, coming for the sinner in me, and I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble because in the span of about four seconds I realized she was the something I had no idea I was in search of.
Then I found out she was off-limits.
That first morning I walked into the lecture hall to cover for a friend, I nearly fell over. There the little sex kitten sat in the back row wearing white frills and a short skirt like some vision of angelic innocence and determination. The complete opposite of what I witnessed the night before.
When my eyes landed on hers, I knew she recognized me from the little O her mouth formed.
As the class progressed, I got to see the brains behind the beauty and if I hadn’t already fallen for her, I would have right in the middle of my class.
Sexy as hell. I mean, she’s what? Twenty? I’ve used my privilege as the Dean of Blackthorne to dig into her files and it held interesting facts like her age and birthdate, but that’s about it on the useful front. Her as a person…I know more about her by watching her sashay her delicious body over a brass pole five nights a week than I do from reading her file, which has more blanks than information. And after hearing her deliver oral reports and turn in papers that most students her age couldn’t pull off, she’s become the forbidden fruit I want to devour like I’m the Devil himself.
I’ve never paid for the pleasure of a woman but if she came with a price tag, there’s no doubt I would have no problem cutting a check right now to have her at my side. Thanks to the trust fund my grandfather set in place before I could walk, money is no issue. A little-known fact about me. But she’s not for sale, and I can’t pass the line that’s between us.
I wish my dick would get the memo. Fucking wrong as it is, I want to mark and claim her in every way possible. It’s almost primal. Hell, it is primal.
It is constant like the pounding of waves against a sandy beach and for the first time in my life I don’t know what to do about the sweet temptation I want to feel slide down every inch of my hard, throbbing cock.
I’m like some addict hooked on the vision of her juicy lips and rosy-tipped breasts. Not touching her is the biggest test of my inner strength and self-control. Somehow I’ve clawed my way back from that edge no matter how much she tempts me with her provocative dances. There’s not a doubt in my mind that little slice of forbidden fruit swings around that pole performing for me, and I’m starting to get antsy when she doesn’t come out.
But there are rules number one being: hands off.
Rule number two is pretty much a repeat of number one in case I slip up and start listening to the bad ideas that run through my head.
I’ve never acted possessive in my life over a woman. Sitting here night after night has me questioning my sanity routinely.
The noise of the beat-heavy techno helps drown out the bad ideas populating my head. More than once I’ve considered
storming the stage and running off with my treasure like I’m some human version of King Kong guarding his princess. It doesn’t take a genius to know what that would bring around. Not only would news get back to the school and I lose my job, but I’d have to fight my way through a few bouncers flashing nasty scars like battle trophies. Putting my fist into someone’s face isn’t my version of fun anymore. Besides, scaring Amber would be counterproductive.
I watch yet another dancer glide across the stage in her platform heels but her perky tits and firecracker red lips do nothing for me as I wait for Amber.
I slide the glass of bourbon across the table untouched and take my leave. I round the corner and climb into my truck just as a late evening rain begins to pelt the back parking lot.
I knew when she stormed out of my office earlier something deeper than just her late tuition payment weighed on her mind. There were dark circles under her eyes and a haunted look in the depths.
Seeing that cut and bruise on her cheek fuels my need to check in on her.
I swing around and point my truck in the direction of her apartment. A part of me, the dark side I buried deep on my last op roars back to life going over tens of scenarios that could have happened. What my imagination comes up with has my fingers tightening around the wheel of my truck like I want to squeeze the life out of it. If some prick boyfriend has laid a hand on her, I’ll kill them and happily go to prison for it. I thought I was stronger than this. In more control, but when it comes to Amber McBride I have no concept of the word apparently.
Twenty minutes later I’m back in our small town and passing Blackthorne University. Through the downpour, I spot a familiar white car under one of the parking lot lights and slam on my brakes, forcing the guy behind me to do the same. To the sound of blasting horns and screeching tires, I hook a left, hoping no cops see the illegal move.
I floor it and rip into the parking lot. Fog and water blur her pretty face, but I can still see the shock and surprise in those honey eyes when I pull up beside her and grind the brakes.
Though I can tell she’s as surprised to see me here as I am her, I don’t hold back the clipped anger from my voice. “What the hell are you doing here, Ms. McBride?” I growl with every intention of sending her on her way.
Forbidden Professors Boxed Set: A Forbidden Professor Student Romance Collection Page 20