by Brill Harper
Don't Get Me Wrong
Love in Brazen Bay, Volume 4
Brill Harper
Published by Brill Harper, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DON'T GET ME WRONG
First edition. October 14, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Brill Harper.
ISBN: 978-1393910619
Written by Brill Harper.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Don't Get Me Wrong (Love in Brazen Bay, #4)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
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He can’t deny his need to claim her as his...
After ten long months away on a dig, archaeology professor Dr. Nick Sanders comes home to Brazen Bay surprised his house is still standing since he left his irresponsible younger brother in charge. Tired, dirty, and hungry, he collapses into bed sans pajamas only to wake up wrapped around a luscious, fuming woman. She says she’s just the house-sitter and he pulled her into bed when she was trying to wake him up. He says he’s just found his future wife.
She’s off-limits—too young, too sweet, too innocent and a student at his university. But he’s one naughty professor who doesn’t care what the world says. She belongs with him.
Author Confession: This story goes back to my filthy, sweet roots readers have been asking for. Insta-love, a heaping dose of immediate OTT attraction, a wildly implausible (yet completely romantic) scenario, and enough alphamallow goodness to singe your eReader. Pick up this guilty indulgence about love so wrong it’s right. You know it’s got the tropes you love—older man/younger woman, bad professor, possessive hero, nerdy heroine, small-town romance, and what’s a Brazen Bay book without a cameo from Stella?
Chapter One
Nick
I’m hot, tired, dirty, and hungry when I park the car in front of my house.
It’s been a long ten months. Productive—fascinating—but long. The China dig was a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me, a dream dig really. My inner Indiana Jones, the reason I became an archaeologist and a professor in the first place, is happy. I didn’t get to fight Nazis or save a chick and bang her. But I also didn’t steal any local culture for a colonizing government’s warehouse.
I didn’t realize I’d miss teaching as much as I did, though. The adventure was thrilling, but I have a new appreciation for my home in Brazen Bay. And cheeseburgers. I missed cheeseburgers a lot.
My eyelids have turned to sandpaper, and the Uber driver drives like he’s getting paid by the minute. I just want to get home. My own bed. My jetted shower. Hell, I’ll be lucky if I make it to the couch before collapsing.
I let myself into my house and call for my brother, not surprised when he doesn’t answer. He hasn’t returned very many of my calls over the last few months. What does surprise me is how clean the house appears. I pay a weekly cleaning service, but my brother can be a real slob. I had reservations about even letting him stay here while I was gone, but I didn’t want the house to sit empty for ten months.
I call his name again to no answer, and I’m hoping that means he got my message and moved out already. More likely, he’s out picking up a new one-night girlfriend from the coed population in nearby Hamilton. Hopefully not one of my students. I think he uses my name to get laid. My brother is an ass. And now he’s an ass with money after our dad died, which I’m sure he’s burning through at a pace only a little slower than the rate he goes through college girls. My inheritance went into investments. His is probably nearly gone.
I take a shower, long and hot, and make a sandwich from the fully stocked fridge. Another mystery. My brother doesn’t usually keep more than beer and condiments in the kitchen. Maybe he instructed the cleaning service to stock some food before he left. That’s not how Devon rolls, usually, but I suppose it’s possible. He was a better brother when he had a girlfriend for a few months, but he and Stella broke up, and he went back to being a dick.
Ham on rye with mustard hits the spot. Tomorrow, I’ll get that damn burger I’ve been craving for months. My bed calls, and I shamble into the bedroom and strip my clothes off as I go. I’ll pick them up later. Tomorrow. Hell, maybe the day after that. I slide into the cool sheets. Either the cleaning service switched laundry soap, or Devon had a woman in the bed and didn’t change the sheets before I got home. That fucker.
The floral scent is soothing, reminding me that I haven’t been soothed by a woman in a long time. Too long. I’ve been too busy looking for bones to bone anyone. Unlike my brother, I’m not a manwhore, either.
I need to find that idiot tomorrow. Figure out why he’s been dodging my calls. It isn’t because my house has fallen down around him unless the damage is in a room I haven’t seen yet.
Tomorrow. I’ll deal with him tomorrow. All that matters now is sleep.
I’m too tired to even rub one out, though the floral scent teases me into a sweet dream of soft skin and full curves...
Katie
I LET MYSELF INTO THE house after a long day of school and a short shift at Ironwing. All the shifts at Ironwing are short. I think Nash McKendrick only hired me to make his girlfriend happy. He still doesn’t keep the bar open any later, even though I wouldn’t mind more hours. I might have to get a second job when this house-sitting gig is up since I’ll have to pay rent.
I’ll miss this house. It’s perfect for me. The bungalow has been updated, but it still has the charm from the 1930s when it was built. Custom woodwork, gas appliances, and oh my God, the shower. I will never be able to take a regular shower again without thinking of the heavy rain showerhead that cascades perfect temperature water in luxury. Also, the handheld has a setting that gets a girl through a lonely night, if you know what I mean.
I even love the furniture here. It’s masculine, but very cozy. It’s not really Devon’s style. Frankly, he seems like he’d decorate with sports posters and beer can pyramids. I’m guessing he had someone else pick it out, and whoever that person is, I would like to get to know better. I’ve never felt so at home before in my life. Like I was meant to be here. Meant to snuggle on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book. Which is the extent of my night life when I’m not working.
The minute I open the door, I know the house isn’t empty. It’s just a feeling, but the hairs on my neck stand up. There are a couple bags by the door, and I let the air out of my lungs. Not a burglar. It must be Devon back early. I wish he would have told me he was coming back. He’s a little on the creeper side, and I don’t really want to spend the night in the house with him alone.
“Devon?” I call out. No answer. He’s not in the living room or kitchen. Damn, he’s not in my room, is he? He told me to use the bedroom. He told me the house was mine until he got back from wherever it was he was going. I feel like a heads-up should have been in order.
The door is open, so I poke my head in. “Devon?”
No answer. I turn the light on. Sure enough, there’s a man-shaped lu
mp in the bed. Damn it. I’m actually a little pissed off. Make that a lot pissed off. If he would have told me he was coming and wanted the room back, I would have cleared my stuff out. This is a total invasion of privacy.
“Devon!” I say with more force. I don’t care if I wake him up now.
He grunts.
I’ve been warned he is a prick, and now all those things I heard he said about Stella, his ex-girlfriend and one of my favorite bar customers, race through my head. I march over to the bed, intent on giving him a piece of my mind. I poke him. “Devon.”
He turns over. Shit, that’s not Devon. I open my mouth to scream, the stranger reaches for me and pulls me onto the bed with him. Fuck. He’s strong. I try to push him, but he rolls me under him. I’ve got a few self-defense moves I’m ready to unleash when I recognize a few things at once—he’s Professor Sanders, he’s still asleep, and he’s naked.
Chapter Two
Nick
Soft skin and sweet curves. I nuzzle the neck of the woman beneath me, inhaling that sweet floral scent that makes the blood roar in my ears. But why is she wearing clothes? This is not the dream I ordered...and then she slaps me across the face.
I blink awake.
There is a woman in this bed. Under me. And I’m not dreaming.
“Wake up!” She’s pushing at me.
My senses are dull, slow to rouse. Unlike my dick, which is at full mast already. “Who are you? What are you doing in my bed?” I ask angrily.
“Your bed? You’re in my bed. And I don’t care if you are a professor, you can’t just—”
I lift up off her some. Shit, is she a student? This is not good. I’ve had issues with a few young women over the years...and one young man...but nothing as blatant as breaking into my house and climbing into my bed. Usually they just try to seduce me in my office.
Maybe she’s not even here for me. She could be one of my brother’s conquests.
“Are you looking for Devon?” I ask. “He’s not here.”
Fuck me, but she’s pretty. She’s got a heart-shaped face with freckles under those glasses. Her lips look sweet and luscious, and piles of blonde waves spill over the pillow under her head.
I rub my face, my hand rasping on the days-old stubble while I try to wake up the rest of the way. Something pinches in my chest, and I realize I’m jealous of my brother. She’s so soft, her body the perfect cushion.
She’s rambling and my brain is trying to catch up. She’s what? “What did you just say?”
She shivers a little beneath me. Enough to make me feel like shit for making her feel vulnerable. Enough to draw out my protective instincts. Now is not the time to wrap my arms around her and tell her she’s going to be okay. That would be a very bad idea and do the exact opposite of reassuring her she has nothing to fear from me. Also, I don’t think I could stop there.
“I said I’m house-sitting for Devon, who, I’m just putting together now, is your brother? Anyway, he didn’t tell me you had a key or you were coming and this is my bed and you really, really need to get off me, Professor. I’m sorry I woke you, but you’re naked.”
Oh, shit. This is bad.
“I’m sorry.” I roll off her, reluctantly, and make sure the sheet is covering the evidence of my dream. “This isn’t Devon’s house. It’s mine. He’s supposed to be house-sitting for me. He didn’t tell me he sublet to anyone.”
She sits up on her elbows. Jesus, those breasts are so firm and round under her Ironwing t-shirt. Her eyes are wary though. Hell, there’s no way she didn’t feel the weight of my dick pushing into her. It’s harder than it’s ever been. Her eyes are a little unfocused. Dazed.
I want to sip at her lips until she opens them and takes my tongue in her mouth. I want to paint over that lip gloss with the precum from my cock until she opens and takes that in her mouth, too. I’ve never been punched so hard with desire before.
She licks her lips, and I groan, but I’m not sure she notices since she starts speaking. “He didn’t tell me that it wasn’t his house. He just said he had a family emergency and needed someone to watch his house for a few months.” She stops talking and takes a deep breath, a sweet shade of pink stealing over her face as her gaze lowers to my waist and back up. Yeah, hard-on still visible even under a sheet.
I’ve seen a lot of pretty college girls over the years, but none have affected me like this. Like I’m toeing the line of Man vs. Neanderthal. “Maybe we should talk in the other room,” I suggest. Before I lose control.
She nods, her eyes huge. “Yeah, okay.” She scrambles off the bed on the other side, but the sheet gets tugged with her, revealing just how out of control I really am. Just how much she’s affected me. Just how much I want this sweet woman with an angel face and a body made for sin.
“Oh my God,” she looks away quickly, but the damage is done, and she runs out.
Katie
OH. MY. GOD. MY HEART is racing, and I can’t breathe.
Professor Sanders, otherwise known on campus as Professor McFuckme, is HUGE.
That thing is big, very big, and thick. So thick. And it curves upward from its base of pubic hair, like it’s...proud of itself. It should be. He has possibly the world’s best penis. I’m not, like, a connoisseur or anything. My direct experience with penises involves a few handjobs in the dark. But I’ll admit to using the internet for nefarious purposes from time to time. I’ve seen some nice-looking ones in 2D, and I have a 3D model in the nightstand that kind of squicks me out because it’s too lifelike yet disembodied. Disembodied parts make for some less than sexy experiences in my book. I much prefer the showerhead.
At any rate, he puts both pornstars and the dildo to shame. And now I have to hope and pray he doesn’t open the nightstand drawer until I can pack my things. I do not want him to find my dildo. Or my vibrator. Or my other sex toys. I’d prefer to keep my deviant nature to myself. There is a buttplug in there that doesn’t get used often, but I still don’t think it’s any of his business.
Even though this is his house. Damn that Devon.
I can’t believe I saw Professor McFuckme’s dick. I feel like the Chosen One. Every girl on campus nurses a crush on him. And his dick is a fabled thing, for above all else, everyone knows Professor McFuckme would never fuck a student. Speculation about what it looks like and how well he probably uses it is common chatter.
I’m blushing in places normal people don’t blush. Because I can’t unsee his dick, and I still have to face him again in a minute with both of us knowing his dick is now...something between us.
Is there a better, stronger word for “awkward”? Awkwardamundo?
This is bad. This is so very, very bad.
I’m trying to blink away the picture of the behemoth penis from my mind’s eye when my girly parts pipe in with the reminder of how that penis felt when it was touching them more intimately than they’ve been touched in a while. They get very little action, you see. And none of it has ever been a real penis. They’ve spent some time with the fingers of boyfriends past, but they’d like to state for the record that naked behemoth penis is more interesting.
I don’t know what to do, so I make tea. That’s so weird, I know. But tea seems safe and everything else feels out of control. I start the electric kettle and get down a couple of mugs. My hands are shaking now. It’s a mix of a little adrenaline from when I thought I was being molested by a stranger, a little adrenaline from when I realized it was instead the hottest professor on campus, and a little adrenaline from seeing him naked. That’s a lot of little adrenalines, and they all add up.
He clears his throat before he enters the kitchen, giving me plenty of warning to get my shit together when I look up. Instead, my eyes go straight to his groin. I want to die. Kill me now. I turn and open the cabinet under the sink, moving bottles of cleaner and such around.
“What are you looking for?” he asks.
“Arsenic for my tea. Is there any rat poison down here?”
He laughs,
and God, even his chuckle is sexy. I stand up and turn to him, willing my eyes to his face this time.
His cheeks are stubbled sexily. Usually, he’s pretty clean-cut on campus. “Why don’t we save the rat poison for the rat who got us into this mess?”
“Devon,” I answer.
“Devon,” he repeats.
The texture of his face is making my thighs quiver. I’m not used to such visceral reactions to men. I really need to get myself together here.
“I’m sorry I barged in on you like that, Professor. I really had no idea you were home. Or that this was your home. And I was just trying to get Devon to wake up and get out of my bed.”
“So he doesn’t share it with you, then?” he asks. He says it casually, but his eyes are a little on the intense side.
I shudder and make a retching noise. “God, no.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “Sorry. He’s your brother.” Way to insult the man’s family.
He seems relieved, not mad. “I’m glad you have the good sense to stay away from him.” He takes the bags out of the tea and picks up both our cups. “Let’s sit down in the living room and see if we can sort this mess out.”
And that’s when it hits me that the way we sort this mess out is by me moving, and my stomach starts churning with nerves and worry. Where can I go tonight? Especially when it’s so late? And I don’t have enough money to rent a place after I paid for books. Everyone is already settled with their roommates for the semester.
I sit down, and he takes a seat next to me on the couch. He smells intoxicating. My nipples pebble at his hella masculine scent. Tingles tease over my flesh, giving me goose bumps. He shouldn’t be allowed to smell that good. I feel like his mere proximity could get a girl pregnant. He’s just so virile and manly. I mentally order my ovaries to stand down.