by Lia Lee
“Hazel?” Cartwright said a bit forcefully.
“Hm?”
“I asked when was the last time you’d eaten something?”
“Hm.” Hazel pinched her mouth to the side. “Probably… Um. Some Pop-Tarts. Before my exam.”
Cartwright dragged the tip of his tongue over his lower lips slowly as he fixed her with a disapproving glare. “Are Pop-Tarts even vegan?”
“The brown sugar ones are.”
“Well, they aren’t a meal.” Cartwright set his wine down and opened up his refrigerator. “Let me make you something.”
Hazel waved her hand at him. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m certainly not going to be taking you to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.” He glowered at the contents of his refrigerator. “I don’t know that I have anything you can eat.”
“Do you just stock your fridge with meat?”
Cartwright turned and set down a container of hummus and a plate of chopped carrots.
“That’ll work.” Hazel picked up a carrot and dipped it in the hummus.
“That’s an appetizer.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’m ordering some food.”
“I gotta tell you, this job has some wicked perks,” Hazel teased. “Fancy wine, takeout, hanging out with your exes, getting to see you in your tight jeans…”
Cartwright raised a brow but did not respond. Instead, he said, “Yes, this is Ian Cartwright. I’d like to make an order, for delivery, but I need to know what dishes you make that are vegan or could be made vegan. My companion for the evening has dietary restrictions.”
Hazel laughed into her hand. He sounded so serious about it. After he’d ordered the food, he moved to take her glass of wine.
“Oh, hey! No fair. You poured me the second glass!”
“I didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten all day,” he protested.
“Oh, nooo…” Hazel leaned back on the island. “Dr. Cartwright is gonna scold me!”
“Maybe I ought to let you keep drinking. Yet another side of Hazel I get to see. I rather like this one.” He crossed his arms. “Anyway, if you’re to spend the evening here, which you are, if you’re going to be this drunk, you ought to call me Ian.”
“Okay. Ian.” Hazel tested the word in her mouth. “Ian. Ian Ian Ian—”
“Oh, God.” Ian fetched his own glass and threw his other hand in the air.
“No, no, I’m sorry. Ian’s a beautiful name, and it totally really sounds like a name.”
“This is why I’ve never seen you drink at any of our lunches, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s because I don’t drink in the middle of the day.” Hazel crossed her legs under her.
Ian shrugged his head to the side. She finished her glass and sighed dramatically.
“I’ll give you more after we’ve had dinner. Now come on down from there, and we can relax on the sofa.” Ian reached out to her, and she tentatively took his arm.
As he helped her down, her heart began drumming out a thunderous beat. It felt like her skin was on fire, and then the throbbing began between her legs. She shuddered, almost fell, and clung to him as he smiled down at her. She wanted more than anything in the world to kiss him, but he was just helping her to the sofa. There, he curled up next to her, petting her hair and asking her details about her day.
With one more glass of wine, she would have crawled into his lap and kissed him. But he would give her no more wine, and she was getting sleepy, so she snuggled up close to him, enjoying his scent and his warmth.
Chapter Seven
“Thank you for coming out,” Ian said quietly. He glanced back at Hazel’s sleeping form on the sofa and pulled out some cash to tip the delivery man. “Here’s something for your trouble. I know Bread and Butterfly don’t normally deliver.”
“Nah, man.” The young man shrugged. “The manager said you paid a huge extra fee to get the delivery.”
“Take it. I know that you’re missing out on tips during the time you took to bring this to us.” Ian pressed the bill into the man’s hand. “Have a good evening.”
“Looks like you’ve already started your good evening,” the young man joked.
Ian grinned. “Maybe so.”
He turned, bags in hand, and began to head toward the kitchen. Then he spotted Hazel, awake and blinking sleepily at him from where she’d draped herself over the arm of the sofa.
“Haven’t you ever heard of Uber Eats?”
“In theory, yes, in practice, no.” Ian continued to the kitchen. “Stay there and don’t fall on your face. I’ll bring you a plate.”
“Did I pass out?”
“I don’t think you can pass out from two glasses of wine. I think the term you’re looking for is ‘fell asleep.’” Ian pulled out two plates and took out the containers. He’d ordered every side that came without meat: crudité, carrot and pine nut salad, sautéed mushrooms, and pomme frites with aioli.
Hazel’s eyes followed him as he brought the plates around. “That looks amazing.”
“They do have a good chef. Granted, I’ve had Vicki looking into vegan restaurants in the area, and I think they could do better. It’ll have to do for now though.” Ian sat next to her and handed her a plate.
“Aw. You’re trying vegan food for me? That’s the sweetest thing ever. Not even my twin will eat at a vegan restaurant with me.” Hazel folded her legs underneath her and tried a mushroom. “Mmmm.”
“I’m not sure I see why it’s a problem,” Ian said. “I mean, I wouldn’t become vegan for you, but one meal… vegan food is essentially vegetables. I need those to live.”
“You’d think.”
“What made you choose to go vegan? Is it because of the environmental impact of factory farming?”
Hazel smiled so widely that Ian wondered if he’d accidentally said: “I love you.”
“That’s part of it. It’s also that I’m mildly allergic to eggs and dairy, so going vegetarian is basically going all the way.” Hazel tried the crudité. “If I weren’t allergic, I wouldn’t be banning eggs and cheese. I have a hard time getting protein. Thank God I’m not allergic to legumes. I’d die.”
“That explains it.” Ian picked at the salad as he watched Hazel eat. The more he discovered about her, the more he felt her sliding into a permanent place in his life. In spite of having been married twice, he wasn’t accustomed to this feeling. His compatibility with Meryl had always been interests first, chemistry second. That may have been the problem.
He got on with her before he liked her, and he had liked her less and less over time. With Hazel… he’d liked her almost immediately upon meeting her. Hell, he’d liked her a little bit from her application. She was a tremendous woman. He wanted her in his life, no matter what happened at the end of this semester.
“Tell me.” Ian rose once Hazel had eaten most of her food and returned with the wine and takeout cartons so he could put more food on her plate. “Have you thought any more about Meryl’s plans? I haven’t decided yet how deeply I want us to be involved with her.”
“Well…” Hazel held up a hand to halt the shower of pomme frites on her plate. “I mean… How deeply do you want to be involved with her?”
“I’m not sure what you mean. We can work together professionally. We have before and after our marriage.”
“Not professionally. Personally.”
“She’s married to Lester. The man’s a friend.”
“Okay. And that’s weird. But…” Hazel’s eyes were wide as she watched him. “Do you want to get back together with her? Is that what this whole philanthropy gig is all about?”
“What? Of course I don’t want to get back together with her.“ Ian grimaced. “We were a terrible couple. That isn’t what I want at all.”
Hazel set her plate down and folded her hands in her lap.
“Why would you think that?” Ian asked.
Hazel shrugged. “I haven’t known you that long, but whenever I talk about philanth
ropy and giving back and community service, you fight me tooth and nail about whether it’s even important. You act like it’s a total waste of time! But she comes one morning, and you want to create a whole new arm of your business.”
Ian tented his brows. To be fair, he had given her an awfully hard time about this. “It isn’t a waste that you have values, Hazel. I simply see a tremendous amount of potential in you. That’s all. And I’m considering Meryl’s offer so strongly because I thought that, perhaps, if Cartwright & Benton had something to offer you… you would stay with us.”
He paused, looking into the deep blue-gray of her eyes. “I wouldn’t have to let you go.”
“You…”
Hazel stared at him in confusion. Was she still buzzed? He couldn’t tell. She seemed frozen, and she was squeezing her hands so tightly. Ian reached for his wine and took a drink before putting his hand on her knee.
“You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and you’re just starting out. I think the world will be shaken to its core when you show us what you’re truly capable of.” Slowly, he moved his hand towards hers and pried one trembling hand into his own.
She squeezed his hand and sucked on her lower lip as she stared back at him. “I don’t think… anyone has ever believed in me as much as you do.”
As weary as Hazel looked, Ian was still entranced by her. Here in his home, such a hard worker, with such big dreams. Even so, she was his student. She was his employee…
She was taking the wine out of his hand and downing it in one motion. She was cupping his face in her hands. Ian couldn’t help himself—with her hands on him, openly inviting his advances? He cupped the back of her head and leaned in to kiss her. Firmly possessing her lips with his own, his other hand moved over her thigh. He squeezed, so eager to have her touch. He couldn’t be near enough to her.
Their lips met over and over. Ian’s world narrowed to the gentle scent of lavender mingled with the aroma of wine and pomme frites. Her skin was so smooth, her thighs surprisingly strong. He felt the press of her soft breasts against his pecs, and his hand moved down the small of her back and caressed her plump backside. She let out a soft moan and arched her back sharply.
Hazel was on his lap before Ian could gather his wits. Her fingers twined through his hair, and his sweet, complex, kind Hazel rolled her hips toward him, making the kind of mewling noise he might have invented in one of his fantasies.
But this was no fantasy. She was here, clinging to him, rubbing against him. Her corporeality flew in the face of his rapidly deteriorating principles.
“Wait…” Ian squeezed her hips firmly and looked at Hazel. “I’m your teacher.”
“So? It isn’t like you’re the kind of professor who gives grades. There’s no quid pro quo, here.” Hazel carded her fingers back through his hair and looked at him adoringly. “If there were something unethical, don’t you think I’d have something to say?”
Ian laughed and kissed her again, hungrily. Part of him wanted to believe this, but there was no mistaking the way she looked at him sometimes, her eager-to-please attitude, the way she lapped up praise. It mattered, at least in some facet, that he was her professor.
The moment she dismissed the thought, however, Ian became unable to hold onto it. Instead, he hoisted Hazel up in his arms and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. Hazel was occupied with nibbling his neck when they reached the top, and he strolled over to his bed where he dropped her back on his sprawling king-size bed.
“Oh, God. I thought the first floor was crazy amazing.” Hazel looked around her as she felt over the embroidering on his comforter.
“Remind me to show you the rooftop pool later.”
“A pool?” Hazel exploded into giggles as Ian launched himself onto the bed with her.
Her leg curled around his, and his hands moved down her narrow waist. He adored the taste of her, the feel of her. And she was his, freely and willingly. In waves, her clothes came off and piled on the floor, until she was fresh and naked before him, smiling coyly. Free of her clothing, she was even more radiant, a bright and shining bud of a woman, ready to bloom into something marvelous. Ian bowed before her and peppered worshipful kisses against her breasts, and she cradled the back of his head, murmuring encouragements. Hazel shuddered as his fingers rubbed over her nipples, and he moved his attention upward to devour her neck.
As she lay waiting on the bed, Ian shed his jeans and his sweater, then reached for a condom on his nightstand before taking her in his arms once again. Hazel blinked up at him; Ian saw the trust in her eyes. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then hitched her legs up.
Peals of giggles filled the room followed by moans and gasps. After positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, he then pushed inside of her, both of them exhaling over the blissful sensation of the act. He moved in her, a powerful force between her warm, tight legs, and she only grew slicker with each thrust. Hazel’s moans grew longer and deeper, and he rubbed the top of her mound as he rocked his hips back and forth, back and forth. Her hips rolled up to meet his.
“Yes, yes.” She gasped. “Oh, God, Dr. Cartwright! Harder!”
Hearing her call him that caused Ian to growl deep in his throat and thrust more forcefully.
Hazel continued to babble. “Yes, more. Ohh, Dr. Cartwright!” Until the words caught in her throat and she jerked underneath him. The feel of her coming around him was exquisite, as was the way her fingers curled into the comforter and she fluttered her eyes.
Ian took a bit longer, a benefit of experience and age. He could never regret making a woman come before him. Next time, he would have to make sure Hazel got started before he did. He found himself to be the king of excess when it came to ensuring the plurality of a woman’s pleasure.
Finally, his own orgasm rose in him, first an intangible warmth, then like lightning, moving through him so fast and so good. He threw his head back and roared, “Yes!” just as his hips jerked forward and stayed, clenching every muscle.
Beneath him, Hazel was still gazing up in that unfocused, post-orgasmic way when he slid out of her and removed the condom to deposit in the wastebasket by the bed. That done, he lay back down, pulling Hazel into his arms. She rested her head on his chest and curled into him. They said nothing for a long time. He kissed the top of her hair and petted it gently. She was sweaty and sleepy and sated, and he was a little proud of the latter.
What they would do once morning came was anyone’s guess.
Chapter Eight
“This can’t happen again.”
This is what Hazel had told herself, entangled in Ian’s sheets and looking up at the elaborate decorations of his bedroom. She had been too tired (and buzzed) to notice much about the room the night before, but unlike his Spartan office and living room, the bedroom was impeccably decorated—modernist paintings, sculptures, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
She was lying in bed with her professor, in his amazing penthouse. She couldn’t believe they’d slept together. More than that, she’d practically been all over him. Hazel had never imagined she could be the kind of girl to be “banging” her teacher.
Then, Ian opened his eyes sleepily and brushed hair out of her eyes. Hazel’s heart sprung to life, fluttering excitedly just from seeing his face, and then from the gentle whisper of “Good morning.”
It seemed only minutes later when he had lifted her up onto the island in the kitchen, and she was holding onto his shoulders as he vigorously pounded into her.
She was so legless from her orgasm that she stumbled over to the sofa afterward and sat, spent but happy. And again, telling herself:
“This can’t happen again.”
Ian brought her coffee and then went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with buckwheat pancakes with berries and powdered sugar sprinkled over the top.
“Oh, that looks amazing.” Hazel took her plate and waved it under her nose. “How did you know I preferred powder sugar to syrup?”
/> “I heard you and Vicki talking about your mutual love of breakfast foods before the Lederman meeting in the conference room.” Ian sat next to her and smiled. “Try them. I’m not an awful cook.”
Hazel cut out a section of pancake and stabbed a slice of strawberry. The texture of the pancake was nutty, and the sweetness of the berry flooded her mouth. Not even her dad had made pancakes this good—back when he was around to make them. Sitting around the table while he made bunny-shaped pancakes was one of Hazel’s first memories.
“It’s good to see you looking rested.” Ian brushed his fingers against her cheek. “Since you already turned in your paper, do you have class?”
“I still have the Poli-Sci class this morning. Oh, what time is it?”
“It’s still early, but I can take you to your apartment if you need to change.”
Hazel licked her lips and tilted her head to the side. She’d never had to decide what to do the morning after a drunken romp.
“You could change here, too, of course,” Ian offered. “I can’t guarantee something that will fit though.”
“You have women’s clothes here?” Hazel looked at Ian uncertainly.
Well, of course. This wasn’t Ian’s first unplanned sleepover with a woman. What was Hazel to him, really, but an exciting tryst with one of this students?
Ultimately, she chose to let him take her home. And with her mantra solidly in mind, she went about her day, went to her classes, and then landed right back at Ian’s penthouse.
Except this time, she brought an overnight bag.
***
Sex with Dr. Cartwright was like an addiction to Hazel. And like any good addiction, she found herself making excuses for it and covering for it almost regularly. She couldn’t tell Natalie the real reason she kept spending the night somewhere else, so she just said that she was visiting her family more often, and it got too late to drive back. Or that she had the graveyard shift at the grocery store.