Playing With Trouble

by Chanel Cleeton

  “Why do you call on me every week?”

  He was silent for a long time, and I wondered if he was just going to ignore me, if I’d shocked him into silence. And then he spoke, and every single lady part of mine stood the fuck up.

  “Your eyes.” He forced the words out. “Because when you looked at me, I saw the real you. The girl behind the polite smiles, and the knee-length skirts, and the clothes that should make you look like some sort of middle-aged society wife, but instead make me want to fuck you in nothing but pearls. White, gleaming, round. Shining against your tits.”

  Oh my god.

  My voice shook, but I still managed to get the words out. “You knew what I was and what I wasn’t.”

  He nodded, his jaw tight as I pulled the admission from him.

  “Then don’t make me something I’m not.”

  Silence filled the car, neither one of us looking at the other.

  “I’m not the hero here, Blair. You don’t want to believe that I’m a villain, fine. But don’t be stupid. I’ve done things you couldn’t imagine. There’s filth under my fingernails, and no matter what I do, I can’t get clean. I’m not a good guy. I grew up trash, and no amount of money will ever change that. Don’t try to make me your hero.”

  God, his words slayed me. I didn’t find bad boys sexy, and there was nothing hot about the words coming out of his mouth. It was sad. So fucking sad. I didn’t see a dangerous guy in front of me, I saw a man who had been beaten down by his past.

  Given what he’d told me, I couldn’t deny that he was probably responsible for most of what had transpired. I wasn’t sad for what he’d lost, but for the life he seemed to have resigned himself to. As if he didn’t deserve to be happy. And that was bullshit. I couldn’t fix him, and I didn’t want to; I had enough problems in my own life—

  But in that moment, with that haunted look in his eyes, I decided to offer the one thing I could give.

  I reached out, ignoring the tension coming off of his body which screamed, run. I clasped his face in my hands, holding it in place. He shuddered, his eyes slamming closed.

  When I was a kid, my father had done a fundraiser at an animal shelter. It had been a photo op for the family—a chance to get pictures of me and Kate playing with our parents and cute puppies, ribbons in our hair.

  There had been this one dog in the back, a mix of some sort, who had stayed huddled in the corner, terrified of the cameras and people. I’d coaxed it out with treats, my mother snapping at me to pose for pictures. I’d ignored her, all of my attention focused on that dog, until finally it came over and sat in my lap, and its entire body relaxed into me, as if the act of someone petting it, holding it, giving it the love it deserved, was all it had ever wanted.

  That was what Gray reminded me of now, his face in my hands.

  My heart ached as I pushed the words out of my throat.

  “I’m not looking for a hero. In fact, I wouldn’t have much use for him if I found one. I’ve got the rescuing-myself thing down.”

  His eyes opened, beautiful, beautiful brown eyes, framed by dark lashes. Gone was the arrogance, the edge that made me alternate between wanting to kiss him and scream in frustration. He looked at me like I’d just thrown him a lifeline.

  I met his gaze.

  Emotion swelled between us, nearly choking me, but I pushed the words out anyway, because he needed to hear them.

  “You can make mistakes in your life. You can fuck up spectacularly. I’m not saying that the things you did weren’t destructive or hurtful to yourself or the people around you. I’m not even saying that they were okay.”

  Pain filled his eyes. Pain and shame. And in that moment I realized how much it had cost him to tell me the things he’d done. To let me see the man behind the suits and the fancy law degree. He’d shown me his demons and at the time I’d thought he was warning me away. But now I understood. He’d given me the part of himself that hurt the most, the part that was broken.

  Gray’s eyes closed as if he couldn’t take the moment between us, like a man who had been staring directly into the sun and needed to look away. But I didn’t let go. I held him in my hands.

  “You can do bad things and still be a good man. Don’t let your past take that away from you. You can be more. You just have to try.”

  His eyes opened, the pain and shame lingering there, a discordant note on such a proud man. For a moment, I wondered if my words had any effect at all, or if he really was the lost cause he claimed to be.

  And then I saw it, shining through the cracks, tenacious, strong—

  Hope.

  Chapter Ten

  With the election a little over two weeks away, all eyes are on the Reynolds family. Will Senator Reynolds keep his seat, or will the weight of his scandals bring his reelection bid crashing down?

  —Capital Confessions blog

  Gray

  She’d gutted me. Utterly. Completely. Three days later, I still felt raw inside. It was like Blair had scooped everything out of me with each word that had fallen from her lips, with the touch of her hands on my face, the compassion in her eyes.

  I’d thought she was dangerous before when she’d consumed my dreams and fantasies. My near constant arousal at the sight of her had at least been manageable. This was an ache my hand couldn’t erase.

  You can be more. You just have to try.

  I opened the door to the classroom, stepped over the threshold, and stopped in my tracks.

  I hadn’t seen Blair since our school visit last week. I’d barely slept last night, wondering what it would feel like to see her after the kiss and the words she’d given me.

  She sat in her usual seat, talking to the guy next to her who did crossword puzzles when he thought I wasn’t looking. Since he sat next to Blair, I was always looking.

  Her hair was up in a high ponytail that swung when she spoke, falling in a cascade of brown silk. She was dressed casually in a pink sweater and jeans, but somehow she still managed to not look like everyone else. Everything about her outfit, her beauty, was pure class.

  Usually when I saw her, my dick stood at attention. And like always, it did now. But not before I felt a pang in my chest, like someone had punched me over my pec.

  And then her head turned, as though she knew, as if a string connected her to my heart.

  Her smile hit me first.

  She’d never smiled at me in class before, not even that first day. It wasn’t a big smile, just a small curve of her lips meant only for me. But fuck if it didn’t have my lips spreading, giving it back to her.

  I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Just stood there smiling at her. A flush spread over her cheeks, and then I had to move, because I was standing in front of seventy-five students, wearing a suit, sporting some serious wood.

  Fuck me.

  I turned, praying my erection would go down, and fled to the safety of the desk at the front of the classroom. I rarely taught sitting, figured if I was going to make my students stand it was only fair that I did the same. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’d used this desk to hide several Blair Reynolds–induced hard-ons throughout the semester.

  No wonder she’d looked at me like I was crazy when I’d told her I was worried I’d taken advantage of her. She led me around by my dick, and I was beginning to think she knew it.

  I sat down in the chair, organizing my papers, commanding myself not to look at her. I cleared my throat, and then my head rose, and seventy-five pairs of eyes stared back at me.

  “Welcome back. I hope everyone had a good weekend. Can anyone tell me the elements of battery according to the Second Restatement of Torts? Mr. Casimi?”

  Blair

  He didn’t call on me the entire class.

  I didn’t know how long my reprieve would last, but for now I was eternally grateful. I wasn’t sure I was ready to stand in front of the class while he spoke to me. Not after everything.

  The rest of the school visit had gone well, mainly because I
’d done everything I could to keep from touching him or looking at him. It was so much harder to resist the impulse when I was a captive audience and he stood in front of me for an hour.

  He had a seriously impressive collection of suits, and this one was no exception. Today’s ensemble was dark gray wool with a light blue dress shirt and a dark blue silk tie. The blues complemented his tanned skin and dark hair. Unfortunately, they also made me want to grab hold of his tie and make out with his mouth. For once, I envied Adam and his crossword puzzle. I needed the distraction.

  A message from Caitlin popped up in my computer screen. Even though we technically weren’t supposed to, most people messaged during class. According to the syllabi in all of our classes, it was “prohibited,” but it was one of those things everyone ignored. I’d once seen Adam have the answer to a question our professor asked him messaged to him. I was pretty sure the professors turned a blind eye to it, but I was still too paranoid to chat. I’d gotten rid of some of my “good girl” tendencies, but old habits die hard and all that. But then I read Caitlin’s message and I couldn’t resist.

  Is it just me or does Professor Canter actually look happy today? Bet someone got laid this weekend.

  My cheeks flamed as I thanked the seating gods for organizing the room in an oval that faced the front. The last thing I needed was Caitlin seeing my reaction. She was right, he did seem happier today. Almost normal. And he’d smiled at me. Actually smiled.

  My computer screen lit up with another message from Caitlin.

  Bet he’s a beast in bed.

  I closed my eyes, wishing I could unsee the entire conversation. After that kiss, I could definitively confirm that he would indeed be a beast in bed. And just like that, I was turned on. In fucking torts.

  I didn’t answer her, wasn’t sure I trusted myself enough to even attempt a conversation on the subject of Gray’s sex life. Crap. Professor Canter. Had to remember to call him Professor Canter.

  Oh fuck me, I was done.

  I leaned forward over my desk, pushing my laptop back, resting my arms against the wood. My head came down as I barely resisted the urge to bang my head against the hard surface. I needed something to jar me out of a string of sexual fantasies, each one dirtier than the last.

  The administration really should have done a better job vetting their professors. The vast majority looked like a cross between Santa Claus and an elf. That I got stuck with the teacher who was a panty-dropper was too cruel for words. At this point, passing the class at all would be a win.

  I lifted my head from the desk, my gaze immediately connecting with Gray’s. He quirked a brow at me, and then I watched as his eyes flared with heat. Oh god. The look was only there for a second and then he shut it down, but a second was all it took for my body to react.

  For me to want.

  * * *

  “What was up with Canter today?” Adam asked as we walked out of class. “I think he actually smiled at me when he walked into the room.”

  I struggled to keep my face neutral, to steady my voice as I responded. To act like that smile hadn’t been for me.

  “Really? I didn’t notice.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it was weird. He actually seemed normal.”

  “Maybe he’s mellowing now that the semester’s halfway over,” I suggested, wanting to abandon this subject quickly.

  Adam followed me to my locker where I dumped my torts book and grabbed the dreaded con law behemoth. They were both red, large enough to double as a deadly weapon if aimed at your head, and boring as hell. It was weird to have lockers at twenty-three, but I was pretty sure they did it to stave off the number of potential back injuries. With textbooks as big as these, lockers were necessities.

  Adam waited as I switched out books for my next classes. He was close enough that I could make out the scent of his cologne. His blond hair was disheveled in a classically preppy way, his lanky frame clothed in khakis and a navy sweater.

  He didn’t take his gaze off me the entire time I fumbled with my combination, each moment that passed making me a bit more uncomfortable.

  I liked Adam a lot, but sometimes I worried that he looked at me differently than he did Caitlin and some of the other girls. Just like he was looking at me now.

  He grinned at me, his dimples making him seem even younger. We were the same age, but something about him screamed “boy” rather than “man.”

  “Do you want to grab dinner together one night?” He hesitated. “Just the two of us?”

  And there it was. Inwardly, I winced.

  I turned my attention from my locker and smiled up at him, hoping it would lessen the sting. “I think it would be okay to hang out as friends, but I’m not interested in dating right now. Thank you, though. I think you’re a really great guy, and I’m so glad we’ve become friends, but I’m not looking for anything more.”

  I figured I couldn’t have sounded more awkward if I’d tried.

  The dimples disappeared and his body stiffened, the easy way he’d slouched against my locker obliterated. “Sure.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I was sorry. He was cute. Really cute.

  And I wasn’t even kind of interested.

  He nodded. “It’s cool. I’ll see you around, okay?”

  I forced a smile. “Okay.”

  I felt horrible. I didn’t mean to shoot him down; I just couldn’t see him as anything other than a friend.

  I walked down the hall, headed in the opposite direction. I waved to a few friends from my section, weaving my way through the crowds to head to the faculty side of the building. I had a meeting with Gray to go over our first pro bono event.

  I’d spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready for today, struggling to decide between dressing up or going for casual instead. I’d settled on a pair of my favorite jeans—Sevens that fit me like a glove—and a pink J.Crew sweater. I’d paired the outfit with ballet flats and my quilted Burberry jacket and spent fifteen minutes trying to fix my hair before I’d given up and thrown it in a ponytail.

  We were friends. Just friends.

  Friends spent an hour dressing for each other, right?

  Right.

  Gray

  Blair walked into my office, shutting the door behind her, and all of the feelings that had sprung up during class came rushing back to me.

  Her sweater was the same color as cotton candy and it made me think of nibbling on her. When she took her coat off and turned to set it down, I saw just how tight her jeans were. Shit. Her ass wasn’t big, but in those jeans it was the perfect handful.

  And just like that I was back to hiding my erection behind a desk.

  Fuck.

  She smiled at me, bending down and grabbing her notebook and a pen, her ponytail swinging with the motion.

  “So I’ve talked to a few vendors about providing baked goods for the Halloween carnival. I have a friend who owns an amazing bakery in Georgetown, and she’s agreed to donate cupcakes. I thought it would be cute if she decorated them with spiderwebs, witches, maybe headstones, although that might be a little macabre.”

  “Cupcakes?” I asked, struggling to keep up with her.

  “Yeah. For the carnival.”

  We’d decided that the 1Ls would spend the rest of the year doing various community service projects at Greenwood Middle School. The principal had suggested volunteering at their annual Halloween carnival as a way to introduce the kids to their law school mentors. I was pretty sure her idea had been people handing out candy, maybe wearing a sheet with cut-out eyeholes to look like a scary ghost. Blair clearly had different ideas.

  I fought the smile, reaching for my law professor persona to keep the informality between us at bay. Letting my guard down with this girl was clearly dangerous.

  “Just out of curiosity, besides the cupcakes, what else do you have planned for the carnival?”

  Blair beamed back at me, and I decided right then and there that if she told me I had to dress up like a fu
cking clown, I’d do it.

  “Well, I thought I’d make goody bags so all of the kids would have something to take home with them. And I sent out emails and already have ten 1Ls signed up to volunteer. I have some arm-twisting to do—Halloween is a big party night—but I’m hoping to get to twenty students. They’re expecting about two hundred kids to show up.”

  “I’ll offer three points of extra credit on the final exam if students volunteer,” I suggested.

  “Seriously?”

  “Doing pro bono work is part of being a practicing lawyer. They should learn the lesson now.”

  “Thanks,” Blair responded, her voice going soft.

  “No problem.” I nodded toward her notebook. “So what else?”

  “Well, I have a fortune teller coming—I told her no scary fortunes or anything like that.” Blair frowned and scribbled something in her notebook before turning her attention back to me. “I have a few calls in to some local restaurants to see about getting food donated.”

  “You’re going to get restaurants to donate food for an event for two hundred middle schoolers that’s less than a week away?”

  Her lips curved. “Let’s just say I can be persuasive when I need to be.”

  I laughed. “I was going to go with tenacious, but persuasive works as well.”

  She flushed a bit. “I know I’m probably going a bit overboard, but after talking to Principal Miller . . .” Her eyes shone. “Hearing what a lot of those kids have been through . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I just want to give them a special night that they’ll always remember. Do you know what I mean?”

  I didn’t want to tell her that I knew exactly what those kids had been through because my childhood probably hadn’t been much better. Her suggestion to have food at the event would make the difference between some students getting dinner that night or going hungry.

  My ex-wife had thought charity was paying two thousand dollars a plate to dine with Chicago’s elite. It had been about smiling for a camera and getting her picture on the society page under a headline lauding how charitable she was. Blair didn’t care about any of that. We were less than two weeks away from the election, and she didn’t talk about having her picture taken or making this about anything other than the kids.