Forbidden Heat

by Jordyn White

  He holds out the towel at arm’s length, clearly trying not to get too close.

  I take it and drape it over one shoulder as the water beads up on my skin. I allow our eyes to rest on each other as he stands there, seemingly unable to move. His eyes keep sneaking downward, onto my bare stomach, my breasts, and lower. He’s apparently doing this against his will because he keeps snapping his eyes back up to my face.

  I raise one eyebrow and put my hands on my hips. “Aren’t you going to swim?”

  His lips part like he’s going to say something. Instead he frowns and turns away from me.

  As he approaches the bench, I quietly follow him. He pulls off his shirt. His back is broad and muscular, tapering to a trim waist. The sight of his bare back gets me slightly off balance for the first time since he came in. I’ve been acting like the one in control here, but the feelings he gives me are enough to knock me on my ass, if I’m not careful.

  He drops his shirt next to his towel and turns to find I’m not where he left me. His lips part with surprise, but his eyes trail downward again. This time, he lets his gaze linger. And linger. Drinking me in.

  I slowly take a step toward him. He’s looking in my eyes again.

  I’m pulled into his gaze. We fall into that look, that deep look we’ve shared before and suddenly it’s all over for me too. Gone the cool seductress. I could no more hide my desire for him than I could stop myself from feeling it.

  And Shane Brooks? He looks like he’s fighting a battle to resist partaking of a particularly delectable treat... and losing.

  “Miss Nikas,” he says lowly, as I take another step nearer, drawn to him.

  “Isabella,” I say.

  He takes half a step away from me.

  “We... can’t...” he says.

  “Why?”

  He looks at me in surprise.

  “Aren’t you attracted to me?” I ask, knowing full well the answer. If he denies the look on his face, I’ll only know he’s a liar.

  He blinks, apparently surprised I would ask him such a thing directly.

  “Yes,” he confesses lowly. “I... think we both know that.”

  I move closer. He takes two quick steps backwards, stumbling into the bench. He quickly puts a hand on the wall behind himself to keep from going down, his muscles flexing as he does so. He steps to the side, away from me and closer to the door, then stops.

  “Okay, look, we can’t do this. I’m your professor.”

  I cringe internally, knowing I would’ve said the same thing not all that long ago. But I’m tired of fighting it. I don’t care anymore. And I’m not going down without a fight.

  “No, I’m sure you’re right,” I say smoothly. “It’s not like professors and students have ever crossed that line.”

  I slowly pull the towel off my shoulder and let it fall to the floor.

  “It usually ends badly,” he says vaguely, glancing down at the towel. I watch his gaze rake over my body again as he works his way back up to my eyes. He looks ready to devour me.

  He’s not the only one who’s ravenous. I take the opportunity to soak in his body. God how I want to run my hands over that chest. Those abs.

  My eyes dip lower. I feel a twinge of embarrassment that in spite of my best seductive moves, I see no erection as evidence of my prowess. But I lock that sliver of worry in the back of my mind as I take in the size of his package. Good lord.

  “Miss Nikas...” he says thickly.

  My eyes flick up to his and I realize I’ve been caught. I don’t care. I want him.

  Unless I’m reading his expression wrong, he wants me too.

  But I see he’s at war with himself.

  “Is it really so wrong?” I let my eyes take in his chest again. “You can’t be more than three or four years older than me.”

  Rather than persuade him, my words seem to have had the opposite effect. He pinches his eyes shut and turns, taking several steps away from me and toward the door.

  Dammit.

  Would he leave just like that, with no shirt on? I’m not sure he wouldn’t.

  “It isn’t about age,” he says firmly, his back still to me.

  That little twinge of doubt I’d locked in the back of my head comes roaring out. I’m not even turning him on. I’m just making a damned fool of myself.

  Fuck.

  Screw this. Even wearing Sam’s bikini, I can’t rope this guy in. Forget it. I’m done embarrassing myself.

  I snatch my towel from the floor and start drying off.

  “It’s about an imbalance of power,” he continues.

  I roll my eyes, bending down and vigorously drying my thighs. I glance up and see he’s turned back to me.

  “There are those who would say that imbalance of power means students really can’t give consent.”

  I straighten and look at him. “Is that what you’re worried about? Being a rapist?”

  He cringes.

  Even through my embarrassment, my heart softens. God he’s adorable. I pad over to him, the towel hanging loosely from my hand. He looks genuinely disconcerted, as if he’s been accused, tried, and convicted.

  I stop in front of him. “For the record,” I say softly, “you weren’t the one asking for consent, I was.”

  He blinks at me. That got his attention.

  “And you should be able to give it freely, since I have no power over you.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” He’s giving my body that hungry look again.

  Maybe I’m a fool, but I’m instantly hopeful.

  I take half a step forward. He doesn’t move. His breathing has shallowed. So has mine.

  Then I do the boldest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

  I slowly reach out and brush my fingertips to his stomach. His lips part slightly and he exhales a shaky breath. I gradually trail my fingers down his firm abs, my whole body tingling from touching him. God, at last.

  My hand reaches the top of his swimsuit.

  I pause.

  My eyes flick up to his. Is he willing? His gaze is smoldering.

  I gently clutch the front of his waistband and pull.

  He comes to me then. Closer. Closer. I reel him in.

  His chest touches mine. His warm hands grip my arms just below the shoulders. This alone causes me to gasp softly. Then he leans in and presses his lips against mine.

  I turn to molten lava.

  His tongue enters and brushes against mine. I drop the towel and snake my arms around his neck, opening wider, needing him. His arms wrap around me, holding me against him. I suddenly feel practically naked. His bare chest and stomach are touching mine. His arms are on my bare back. There’s so little material separating us.

  His erection is pressed against my thigh. No timid erection is this. He feels hard enough to spill right now. Good God. Was that even there a second ago?

  As our tongues dart around each other, his hands rub down my back. They skip my ass and land on my thighs, squeezing me.

  I’m not so hesitant. I’ve been dreaming about his body for weeks. My hands greedily rub his back, his chest, his firm rear.

  He groans and pulls his head back slightly, breaking contact just long enough to gently bite my lower lip. This sends tingles all through my body and my knees get loose. I hang on tighter.

  He slides his hand up the back of my neck and into my hair. My lips part again and he dives in, like there’s no resisting me now. He tastes and feels even more amazing than I imagined.

  Still clutching the hair on the back of my head, his other hand slides up my side, heading for my breasts. He stops just short, leaving me aching for his touch.

  Here’s your consent, dammit, I think impatiently.

  I grab his hand and put it on my breast, squeezing his hand so he’s squeezing me. That does the trick. He moans into my mouth, his hand caressing me freely now.

  I whimper with longing. The more he touches me the more I want. I’m soaked.

  His hard shaft is digging
into my thigh. I rearrange so he’s against my pubic bone, just above my clit. He clutches my ass—finally!—and holds me firmly against him. God, where’s the bed in this place? I want to wrap my legs around him so badly.

  He comes up for air and our eyes lock on one another. Our ragged breaths mingle together. He’s not done with me yet, thank God. I see it in his eyes. I glance at the wall, but it’s made of huge blocks of rough stone. If he pressed me against that, it’d tear me to shreds.

  I glance at the pool. That could work.

  I take hold of his hand, backing away and pulling him after me. I lead him toward the far end of the pool, away from the glass door.

  He’s breathing hard, and when we pass the lap lanes and reach the shallow end of the pool, he pulls me to him and kisses me fully. I rub his back and chest, then slide downward. I wrap my hand around his thick shaft and squeeze.

  He groans, squeezing my ass and pulling me tighter to him. I squeeze him again. He pulses against me. I’m throbbing. I’ve never even considered giving myself so quickly to anyone, but I need this man now.

  He pulls away from me, leaving my body cold, but he’s still holding my hand and now he’s leading me toward the water. As we descend the steps and submerge ourselves to our stomachs, I’m surrounded by the shock of the cold water, but I barely feel it I’m so hot for him.

  We come back into each other’s arms, bending our legs slightly so the surface of the water’s just above my breasts. He takes my face into both hands and kisses me even more hungrily than before. His tongue is firm and demanding, and I yield willingly.

  He lifts me and wraps my long legs around his waist, pulling me against him. His erection hits me right in the perfect spot and I moan, breaking contact with his mouth and curling my head down toward his neck.

  We are nothing but bare skin against one another, except in every place it counts. He grabs my ass and pulls me tighter against him. If it weren’t for his suit and my bikini bottoms, he’d be fucking me right now. Damn these bottoms.

  He’s steering us toward the wall of the pool and sets me against it. He pulls the fabric of my top partly away and I float just on the surface.

  He takes my breast into his mouth and I arch back. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing to my nipple but I feel it clear down to my core. I let out more than a whimper this time.

  He pulls away abruptly, looking toward the door.

  “No one’s here,” I whisper.

  “Shhh.” He takes me in his mouth again. His cock is bulging against me and we’re grinding against each other now. I tug at his waistband with my hands, wanting his suit out of the way.

  His hands leave me long enough to take over and I look down. Even through the wavy surface of the water, I get a clear view of his massive cock springing free.

  Panting, I pull the string tie on the waist of the bikini bottom. I’m just now appreciating the wicked genius of this design.

  The white fabric of the crotch floats down, exposing me fully.

  He presses his chest against mine. Only one breast is exposed and I want to feel the other one against his chest too, so I pull the fabric away myself.

  Our bare chests against one another now, the tip of his cock zeroes in on the right spot. Tightening my legs around him, I encourage him to enter me.

  He hesitates.

  “No,” I breathe. “Don’t stop. Please.”

  He tightens the circle of his arms around me more, his hand snaking up the back of my neck and into my hair. Below, he breaks my entrance. I arch my head back, inhaling sharply. I hold my breath as he slowly slides deeper, and deeper.

  And deeper.

  Dear god.

  He finally hits bottom and I exhale forcefully, trying not to make any noise but nearly out of my mind with the pleasure of him inside me.

  “Professor Brooks,” I whisper, enjoying the scandal of uttering such a thing at such a time.

  “Shane,” he whispers back, panting.

  “Shane,” I whisper, as he pulls back and dives into me again.

  “Shane,” and he thrusts me again. I’m so wet I don’t even notice the water we’re in. We’re slick with just me.

  I arch my head back, unable to speak any more as the heat in my body spikes higher and higher. I’m throbbing with the most amazing sensations.

  I want it to last but I’m already on the edge. Judging by how hard he is and how he’s pumping me faster and faster, I’m guessing he is too.

  I look again toward the glass door, clutching his broad shoulders, trying to contain my desire to cry out. We have to be quiet. Whimpering, I feel myself clamping down on him. I’m getting closer and closer.

  I close my eyes, hearing the blood coursing through my ears and the water splashing against the wall of the pool.

  “Isabella,” he gasps, his voice low and thick.

  “Oh god.”

  My climax is so intense I can’t help but cry out. I bite my lip to silence myself, my body convulsing and exploding in pleasure. He doesn’t let up, carrying me into holy oblivion.

  He’s panting in my ear, clutching me. It isn’t until I’ve come down from the high that he lets out a groan, overcome himself. He pulls out, spilling himself in the water, still holding me and pressing his head against my shoulder.

  Only then do I realize we weren’t using a condom. Thank God he thought of it.

  I’m so not used to being the irresponsible one.

  I hold him tightly as he convulses once more against me. I desperately wish I could’ve felt him coming inside me. I grip his shoulders and kiss his cheeks as his body releases, finished.

  We hold in this position for several moments, catching our breath. Finally, he looks up at me, still slightly panting. I give him a tentative smile.

  He straightens, cupping my face in his hand as he gives me a deep, satisfying kiss.

  He slowly pulls away and looks at me. His brow furrows slightly.

  “We shouldn’t have done that,” he says quietly. “We’re bound to regret it.”

  “Shhh.” I kiss him. “Don’t spoil it.”

  He looks like he wants to argue with me, but I give him an innocent look and bat my eyelashes at him.

  He laughs lowly and pulls me into a firmer embrace. He gives me a soft smile. I seem to have chased away his guilt. For now at least.

  As our surroundings slowly come back to us, he pulls up his suit and I put my skimpy excuse for a suit back to rights.

  In between giving me soft kisses, he’s taken to glancing at the door again. I lead him out of the pool and we both get dressed.

  Once we’re more decent—I’m in the shorts and tee I came here in—he glances at the door again before pulling me to him. Looking me in the eye and rubbing my upper arms with his firm hands, he says, “I want to put you in my pocket and take you home with me.”

  I smile. He’s so adorable. And sexy. And intelligent. And, as Sam would say, completely fuckable. What more could a girl want?

  Except for him to maybe not be my professor.

  He puts his forehead to mine, closes his eyes, and sighs. “When can I see you again?”

  I smile wickedly, even though his eyes aren’t open to see it. “Well, we have class in a couple days.”

  He scowls at me and I laugh.

  “You tell me.” I wrap my arms around him and give him a soft peck on the lips.

  “Can I make you dinner?” He seems afraid I’ll say no.

  I give him a slight smile, feeling suddenly shy. I don’t know why.

  “My place?” he adds, glancing again at the cursed glass door.

  I nod, reaching up to kiss him properly. And I do believe I did it properly because his tongue is in my mouth and his arms are tightening around me. He’s once again growing against my thigh.

  He gives a guttural groan and pulls away, holding me at arm’s length. “You temptress.”

  I smile. I like that. I’ve never been a temptress before. I’m breaking all kinds of rules for Professor Sh
ane Brooks.

  Chapter 10

  The following evening, I’m in my room running around in my bra and underwear, towel on my head, laying different outfit options on my bed. Do I wear a skirt? Jeans? But what top? Evaluating the options before me, I scowl and head back into the closet.

  Before leaving the pool that night, Shane gave me his address and we set a date for dinner at his house tonight, six o’clock.

  I grab another top and lay it over the blingy jeans on my bed. Too much? Too little?

  I jump when a knock raps on my door and Sam peeks her head in. “Can I come in?” She opes the door all the way, not bothering to wait for an answer.

  She takes one look at the scene and smiles wickedly. “What have we here?”

  “Nothing.” My cheeks burn.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing. The red bra and panties? Okay. What’s his name?”

  “What? Who? There’s nobody.”

  Sam laughs. I settle for casual and grab the pair of blingy jeans. “Uh huh, suuuure,” Sam says, waiting for the punchline.

  I do my best to pull it off. “Really.”

  She still doesn’t believe me, but instead of smiling bigger and pestering me for more, she frowns. “You don’t want to tell me?”

  I feel a twinge of guilt at her expression. “There’s nothing to tell.” I give her a quick peck on the cheek then grab the red top.

  She eyes me uncertainly. “We were thinking of going to Delsa’s,” Sam says, like she’s testing the waters with me. “Ashley’s been dying for her post-performance trip.”

  Drat. I forgot about that. We hadn’t gotten to it yet. “Um. Can we do it tomorrow? Or you guys can go on without me. I... I’m heading to the lab. Lots of work.” I duck into the closet and out of Sam’s line of sight.

  God, I hate lying to her.

  There’s a heavy pause, then she says quietly, “Suit yourself.” I peek around the corner and see she’s left. I stop and close my eyes, letting out an exhale. My hands are shaking.

  A little voice in my head tells me lying to my best friend and shaking in my closet are all bad signs, but I whip off the towel on my head and start vigorously drying my hair, determined to ignore all such traitorous voices.