Living in Shadow (Living In…)

by Jackie Ashenden

Desire shifted inside her, tight and aching. It had been so long since a man had been able to touch the part of her she’d kept so well protected. Yet with only a hand around her ankle and a note of steel in his voice, Lucien North had shot a hole right through every single one of those protections.

  I won’t hurt you…

  She didn’t know how he’d managed to see her fear, especially when she hadn’t even acknowledged it herself, but he had. And somehow, without her even having to reveal anything, he’d answered it.

  “I don’t know what you hope to achieve,” she said at last, which didn’t sound at all like the no she’d meant to say.

  Something in his eyes flickered, but it wasn’t satisfaction, or at least she didn’t think it was. “Perhaps all I want is a mutual understanding.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him there was no point, she already understood, yet she stopped herself.

  You’re making assumptions about me. Patronizing me…

  She’d read his file and had met so many young men like him—rich, arrogant and entitled—that, yes, she’d made those assumptions. And in all the years she’d been teaching, those assumptions had inevitably proved correct every time. Of course that was her own arrogance talking, and, really, if she wanted to be a proper lawyer about it, she should be giving him the opportunity to argue his case.

  You should be telling him no. That’s what you should be doing.

  One simple word and she would never have to deal with him again. So why hadn’t she said it? Why hadn’t she turned on her heel and left?

  Because you can still feel his hand around your ankle. And you like it.

  Eleanor gritted her teeth. “Okay, fine.”

  Sitting down in a pencil skirt was difficult but she managed, arranging herself fastidiously on the grass. “All right,” she said, smoothing her skirt, looking him directly in the eye. “So talk.”

  He sat there with his arms looped casually around his knees, long fingers interlaced, watching her. “I want to know why you’re lying. I want to know why you’re afraid.” He paused and that hint of steel entered his voice, the one that made her want to shiver. “And don’t bother denying it this time, Professor. We both know I can see right through you.”

  Goddamn him. That tone might work for her in the bedroom, but out of it, not so much. “Give me one reason why I should tell you anything?”

  “Because I’ve been honest about what I want.”

  “And you want me.” It felt curiously freeing to say it out loud.

  His gaze was full of sexual heat and something else she didn’t understand. “Yeah. I do.”

  A flame licked up inside her. She tried to ignore it. “And what do you expect me to do with that, Lucien? I mean, seriously. You think I’m going to risk my job for a bit of casual sex with a student?”

  He lifted one lean, powerful shoulder. “What makes you think it would be casual?”

  “Because a relationship is out of the question. Even if you weren’t a student and thirteen years younger than me, I’m not looking for involvement with anyone.”

  He studied her, the look on his face unreadable. “Why not?”

  “That’s none of your damn business.”

  “Fair enough.” Slowly Luc uncoiled, putting his arms behind him, leaning back on his hands, stretching out his long, muscular body. The denim of his jeans pulled tight around his thighs, the fabric of his T-shirt settling on the taut planes of his abdomen.

  She shouldn’t watch him, shouldn’t notice those things, and yet she did. They made her mouth go dry.

  “I’m not looking for a relationship either,” he went on, the faint lilt of his accent making his deep voice even sexier than it was already. Which was something else she shouldn’t be noticing. “But I don’t think the sex between us would ever be casual.”

  Eleanor ignored the heat building in her gut. “A moot point since it’s not going to happen,” she said impatiently. “Look, there are plenty of other women you can have noncasual casual sex with. You don’t need me. Or do you have a thing for older women?”

  “I have a thing for you.” His expression was intent, fierce. “Every Thursday I sit in that fucking lecture theatre listening to you talk. And at the end of every lecture I look down at my notes and realize I haven’t written a single damn word. Because I can’t take my eyes off you. Because you make me so goddamn hard.”

  She couldn’t move. Her mouth so dry she couldn’t speak.

  “And you know what?” Luc went on, his voice soft and dark and relentless. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of wanting you. I’m sick of you looking past me at the end of every lecture like I don’t exist. And most of all, I’m sick of you denying what I know you feel too.”

  The intensity in his eyes was too much and she had to look away, down at her hands folded in her lap. If she held them up they’d be shaking, she was sure of it. “Why?” she asked, trying and failing to keep her breathlessness out of her tone. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re complicated,” he answered without hesitation. “Passionate. Because whenever you give a lecture, you light up the room. You glow, Professor. You’re like the sun.” He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “But I also think you’re afraid. And I want to take that fear away from you because…I know what it’s like to live with fear.” There was a vulnerable note in those words, a note that struck deep inside her.

  She couldn’t look at him, her breath catching in her throat.

  I know what it’s like to live with fear…

  How did he know? And how could he see it in her?

  I want to take it away from you.

  Eleanor closed her eyes. Fuck, she couldn’t let him do this to her. Make her curious. Make her want him to be different. She’d put him in the same box she put all the rest of the private-school-educated, rich, entitled young men, and that’s where she wanted him to stay.

  She opened her eyes, smoothing the gray fabric of her skirt reflexively. “Well, I’ve got to hand it to you, honey,” she said. “That’s one hell of a line. Perhaps you should be doing an English degree instead of law.”

  “You don’t think I meant it?” Anger vibrated in his voice.

  She swallowed, making herself glance back at him. “I think you’ll tell me whatever it is you think I want to hear.”

  Flames burned in his eyes, his long, sensual mouth in a hard line.

  Oh yes. He was angry all right. She’d hit him somewhere vulnerable.

  Are you surprised? After he laid himself out for you?

  A creeping sense of shame gripped her, but she fought it back. She couldn’t be weak, not with him. Because if she let him in, if she gave him the truth…

  Luc moved, so quickly, so soundlessly she had no warning at all. One minute she was looking at the fabric of her skirt, the next Luc was crouched in front her, his long, brown fingers gripping her chin and forcing her gaze to his.

  “Don’t you dare fucking dismiss me,” he said in a low, fierce voice. “You think I told you all of that for fun?”

  A bright shard of fear slid through her. Then she realized that though his grip didn’t hurt, it was firm. That his fingers were warm. That his body was very, very close. That he smelled of musk and dry earth, and she liked it.

  She liked him holding her. Keeping her chin where it was so she couldn’t pull away.

  So she couldn’t hide.

  And he knew. That perceptive, dark gaze of his saw everything.

  The anger slowly died out of his eyes, to be replaced by something hotter. Hungrier. His thumb moved along her jaw in an experimental caress and she couldn’t stop the shiver that went through her. Couldn’t hide it.

  “You like this,” he said softly.

  Oh fuck. What the hell was she doing? How had it gotten to this point? Had she been giving off signals she hadn’t been aware of?

  You pushed him. Are you sure you don’t know how?

  Fear spread through her, reflexive and dark. A fear
she thought she’d put behind her.

  She tried to jerk her chin away from him but his fingers tightened, holding her steady. Her heartbeat sped up, the sound of it thumping in her ears. “Let me go,” she said hoarsely.

  “Do you want me to?”

  No.

  “Yes.”

  Instantly she was free, Luc releasing her, the look in his eyes hot. The sun slid over his brown skin, highlighting the exquisitely carved planes and angles of his face. High cheekbones, straight nose, hard jaw. All of him beautiful.

  Jesus, was she fucking insane? Getting herself into this again? Piers had taken her desires and taught her the power of submission. Then he’d stolen that power and shattered it so completely she could never trust anyone enough to surrender again.

  Particularly some cocky, arrogant twenty-five-year-old who thought he knew her.

  Eleanor ignored the heat inside her, the way her skin burned from his touch. Tried to steady her voice. “That was a mistake, Mr. North.”

  He was silent. Staring at her. He knew she was lying, but, shit, she didn’t care. This was a matter of self-preservation and she’d worked too long, too hard and for too many years to put herself at risk now.

  “So I guess that’s a no,” he said after a long moment.

  She opened her mouth and found she had to force it out. “It is.”

  The fierce glitter died out of his eyes like a flame being extinguished, leaving nothing but expressionless obsidian in its wake. He gave a short, decisive nod then in a fluid movement rose suddenly to his feet. “I have to go. I have a class in five minutes.” He didn’t smile. “I’ll see you on Thursday for legal history.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked off, over the grass to the path that led down to the law school.

  Eleanor kept her hands folded tight in her lap, watching him leave. He moved with purpose. With grace. Walking away from her without looking back.

  Well, that was that, wasn’t it? She’d done the right thing, absolutely the right thing. He was a student and she was his professor and it couldn’t happen. Even if she’d wanted him. And she didn’t want him.

  I know what fear’s like…

  Something twisted in her gut. Something painful.

  No, she wasn’t disappointed. Not in the least.

  Chapter Five

  He was as good as his word.

  A day later she walked into the lecture theatre, her gaze automatically going to the front row, only to note his absence. It wasn’t until halfway through the lecture that she spotted him in the back with some friends. He wasn’t looking at her, his head bent as he took notes. And after the lecture was over, he walked out, talking and laughing with them, not even glancing in her direction.

  He didn’t watch her in the student café either. By the middle of the following week, she realized she hadn’t run into him in a hallway or the library, or in the open area in front of the law school where people congregated.

  His presence seemed to recede, like a shadow slowly fading as the sun rose.

  She tried to tell herself she didn’t miss it. That this was what she wanted. But she kept looking, hoping to see him, for reasons she couldn’t identify even to herself.

  Sure you can’t. Your chin in his hand. Forcing you to look at him. No way to hide…

  No, she couldn’t think of that. Because she knew where that led, she fucking knew. Piers had showed her. Sometimes in the privacy of their own home and sometimes in the clubs he took her to. Beating her until she bled. Allowing others to beat her. Use her. And she’d taken it because she’d trusted him. Because she loved him.

  So much for trust. So much for love. That was a path she’d never walk again, no matter how much her body wanted it.

  A week later, she met Kahu and their other friend, Victoria, up at the Auckland Club for their usual Thursday drinks. The fourth member of their group, Connor, Victoria’s ex-husband, didn’t come around much anymore, at least not since the two of them had separated.

  Victoria had just had a small rant about one of the partners in the law firm where she worked when Kahu abruptly turned to Eleanor and raised one eyebrow. “Speaking of partners, how’s yours?”

  “What do you mean, how’s mine? I don’t have one.”

  “Your prospective partner, I should say.”

  Victoria, in the process of finishing the one glass of wine she only ever allowed herself, gave Eleanor a surprised look. “Prospective partner? As in partner partner? Lover-type partner?”

  Eleanor gave Kahu a filthy look. “There is no partner. Lover or legal.”

  “So that guy you were angsting about last week…?” Kahu trailed off meaningfully.

  Victoria frowned. “What guy? Ell, have you been holding out on me?”

  “I was not angsting or holding out.”

  “Hot guy in one of her classes,” Kahu said to Victoria, ignoring her. “I told her she should fuck him.”

  Victoria, long used to Kahu’s brutal form of honesty, shot Eleanor a sympathetic glance. “I take it you didn’t take Casanova here’s advice?”

  “No of course not. He’s a student. Practically a child.”

  “Good plan,” Victoria said, pushing aside her glass. “You don’t want to touch that kind of thing with a barge pole. Not after Piers.”

  “Exactly. I told Kahu—”

  “I only have your best interests at heart, Ell,” Kahu said, toying with his wineglass. “Anyway, are you going to tell me what happened with him?”

  Victoria’s dark eyes were now looking at her expectantly. Bugger it.

  Eleanor shifted on her seat. She’d finished her wine and wanted another, then taxi it home, but perhaps it wasn’t a good idea. She had a shitload of papers to mark and a lecture to prepare for tomorrow. “Nothing happened with him.” She fiddled with the paper coaster her glass had been sitting on. “I told him I wasn’t interested and he backed off.”

  Kahu snorted. “Christ. How am I supposed to uphold my reputation of sexual fairy godmother if you keep telling men to piss off?”

  “I didn’t ask for you to be my sexual fairy godmother.”

  “No, but, honey, you damn well need one.”

  “Well, this is all very interesting,” Victoria interrupted, “but is there any more gossip or is that it? I’ve got a presentation to give on Friday and a metric ton of reading to do before then.”

  Eleanor glanced at her friend. Victoria was always working these days, putting in long hours at her firm. Had done so ever since she and Connor separated six months earlier. It was a worry. As was the way her tall, normally curvaceous figure had wasted away into a shadow of its former self. She looked thin and spiky in her black suit, her caramel-colored skin, legacy of a Polynesian ancestor, had a pasty tinge to it that didn’t look in any way healthy.

  “Are you okay, Vic?” Eleanor asked, partly because she was worried and partly because she wanted to deflect Kahu’s attention from the subject of Luc. “You’re looking pale.”

  Victoria shrugged, picking up her handbag and briefcase. “I’m fine. Just tired. I’ll see you guys next week, okay?”

  “What about coffee this weekend?” Eleanor persisted. She hadn’t seen Victoria for a while, come to think of it. And from the looks of her friend, a little heart-to-heart wouldn’t go amiss.

  The other woman’s expression flickered. “Can’t, sorry. Working.”

  It wouldn’t have surprised Eleanor if Victoria had been working, but that momentary flicker told her that her friend wasn’t being entirely honest. For a second she wondered whether or not to press her, then decided against it. Victoria could be damn stubborn when she wanted and if she was lying about something, it was probably for good reasons. Didn’t mean Eleanor didn’t worry about her, though.

  “What’s going on there, do you think?” Kahu mused, watching Victoria’s tall, thin figure stalk through the cluster of tables on the way out the door.

  “Definite stuff, from the looks of things. Have you heard from Connor lately
?”

  “Yeah, saw him last week. He’s doing about as well as Vic is.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “Tell me about it.” He glanced toward her. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your young man either.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, Kahu. He’s not my young man.”

  “Then why are you getting all irritated every time I mention him?”

  “Perhaps because you keep mentioning him every five seconds?”

  Slowly, Kahu sat back in his chair, crossing his muscular arms, his dark eyes piercing. “You regret it, don’t you?”

  Eleanor sighed and glanced down at the table, noticing she’d ripped the coaster up into a million tiny bits. Jesus, what was wrong with her? She wasn’t that fidgety normally, was she? Brushing off her fingers, she pushed the bits into a small pile in the center of the table. “No, of course not.”

  “Ell,” Kahu said quietly, “it’s me.”

  She didn’t look at him, staring at the ripped-up coaster. Maybe it wasn’t not seeing him that she was regretting, but the way she’d handled it.

  Sure, Luc had been inappropriate but he’d also been brutally honest about the fact that he wanted her and she’d responded to that honesty by being a bitch to him. Hardly her finest moment. No wonder he’d got angry—she’d hurt him.

  “I wasn’t very nice to him,” she said finally, a prickle of shame crawling over her skin. “And I do regret that.”

  “Did he deserve it?”

  I want to take that fear away…

  “No. No, he didn’t.”

  Kahu’s dark eyes were impenetrable. “Well then. Maybe you need to apologize.”

  A part of her curled up in instinctive denial, though she didn’t want to examine her reasons too closely. Because Kahu was right. She probably did owe Luc an apology.

  The idea stayed with her the rest of the night and it was still there when she went into work on Friday, papers marked and lecture prepared.

  Once again, Luc wasn’t in the café when she bought her morning latte and it made the regret inside her even worse. He was doing what he’d promised, even after she’d said those things to him. Even though she’d hurt him.