Searching for Mine

by Jennifer Probst

  Unease trickled through him but he shrugged it off. He'd talked to Luke about his feelings seeing Ella dating, but the kid seemed solid. He hoped Kennedy had taken away the orange lipstick. It was easy for Connor to see past the surface and appreciate how amazing Ella was, but guys were still stuck on physical appearance. He hoped this guy treated her nicely and made her feel good about herself. She deserved it.

  He headed to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of lemonade and turned around.

  Then almost dropped the glass.

  "How do I look?"

  He stared. Speechless, his voice died in his throat and he could only look at the woman before him that was no longer Ella.

  She was stunning.

  Her hair had been cut and was finally out of the constricted bun. Glossy black waves tumbled over her shoulders and half covered one eye in a flirty manner. Where were her glasses? Instead, wide, dark eyes peered at him with a wariness he'd never seen before, almost as if she was vulnerable, waiting for his opinion. Without the thick frames, her eyes gleamed with gold, giving off an intensity that made shock waves tingle through him. Her face glowed in the low light, and her lips were full and lush, painted a deep, sexy red that contrasted dramatically with her dark hair and eyes.

  But her body. Dear God. Her body...

  A clingy red tank dipped low in the front and emphasized the full curves of her breasts. A trendy black jacket skimmed the lean lines of her body. Her skirt halted just short of her knee, showing off a tantalizing strip of bare skin before the leather of thigh high black boots began. His gaze dropped to her feet. The boots held a wicked heel that made him imagine all sorts of naughty things. A musky, earthy scent danced in the air and surrounded her, urging him to move closer and bury his nose against her skin.

  Blistering heat surged through him. He was hard in seconds, aching to cross the room and touch her. This was not his Ella. This was some other woman bent on seduction and naughty games. What had Kennedy done to her?

  She tugged at the jacket and clasped her arms nervously across her chest. The red tank slipped a bit lower, giving him a teasing glimpse of olive skin. "You don't like it. Oh, my God. Do I look like a slut? Kennedy told me to go in bold so I thought I'd take a chance. She helped me pick this out."

  He tried to speak but he still hadn't found his voice. She waited, but when he was unable to utter a response, she gave a deep sigh and shook her head.

  "Forget it. Just like a man to give no feedback. I'm not going to change. I spent a lot of money on this stupid outfit, and I can handle this. Listen, thanks for watching Luke tonight. I better go. I'm running late."

  Finally, words emerged from his throat. His head spun like he'd gotten clobbered and little birdies were circling him. "You look, you look--great. Umm, maybe you'd be more comfortable in flats, though?"

  She waved a manicured hand in the air. He caught the flash of scarlet red nails. "I practiced, I can handle it. Luke, sweetie, I love you. Listen to Connor and don't go to bed too late, okay?"

  "Mom! You look beautiful!"

  Her face lit up with pleasure. Why hadn't Connor told her that? Why was he acting so frikkin weird?

  "Thanks, honey. That means a lot to me. Text me if there's any problem. See you later."

  Her heels clicked on the floor and he followed. "Wait a minute. You're meeting him somewhere? Why isn't he picking you up? Don't you think that's kind of rude?"

  Her red lips curved in a grin that was sexy as hell. "Come on, Dunkle, you've never picked up any of your dates, have you?"

  He blanched. "That's different!"

  "No, it's not. I feel safer meeting him at the restaurant, anyway."

  She opened the door but he kept talking. "Be careful. He'll probably invite you up for a drink, but that's code for him trying to make a move."

  She gave him a naughty wink. "Oh, goody. Maybe I'll be later than I thought."

  "Ella!"

  "Kidding, just kidding. Geez, calm down, Dad. I have done this before, you know."

  "If you feel uncomfortable, call me. I'll come pick you up."

  "I have my car, remember? Have you been working too hard? You're losing it."

  His palms began to sweat. He fought the overwhelming urge to beg her not to go and stay home with him. They'd do their usual and hang out in sweats and play games and argue over Woolf. What if this guy tried to touch her? Was he kidding himself? What guy alive on the face of the earth would not want to touch her looking like this?

  "Ella--wait--I--"

  "Sorry, I gotta go. Have fun and thanks for this!"

  She banged the door closed and left.

  He stared through the window and watched her get into her car. The fabric of her skirt slid up even more, revealing a delicious path of skin that led all the way up to heaven. He should've told her to change. No, he couldn't do that. She needed to boost her confidence. But holy shit, that outfit should be illegal.

  "Connor! Come on, let's play!"

  Shaking off the fog, he sat next to Luke and grabbed a controller. He had no idea what he was doing, and at this point, he wasn't going to relax until she came back through that door.

  This was going to be a long night.

  Ella sighed and counted down the minutes till she kicked off her shoes.

  Being sexy was a lot of work. She'd been out of practice for a while, so maybe her body needed more time to adjust. Her toes were pinched by the high heels, and the leather snugly clasping her leg was making her itch. Her hair kept sliding into her face until she wished she had a few bobby pins to jam it up and forget it. The contacts she'd put in caused her eyes to dry, and she couldn't wait to pop them out and put on her glasses. And as usual, her lipstick had slid off within the hour, along with the rest of her makeup.

  She pulled to the curb and cut the engine. Luke should be asleep by now. Dinner had been a long, relaxing affair with good conversation and expensive wine. She liked Ed. He was a professional, divorced dad who seemed to get the challenges she faced. They'd traded pictures of their kids, talked Common Core education, and discussed popular fiction. He was a big reader and knew Woolf. He was impressed with her career. He was nice.

  And he invited her up for a drink afterward.

  Ella had a hard time not laughing as she imagined Connor's face. She'd declined, and instead they strolled to the used bookstore in town and spent a pleasant hour shopping and sipping a cappuccino.

  Ed asked to see her again. She'd agreed. It was the most positive, life affirming date she'd ever had because it reminded her she was a woman. A sexual woman. A woman who enjoyed a man's company and conversation. A woman who would eventually enjoy sex if she could just get there.

  The only problem was Connor Dunkle.

  Ella stared into the darkness, hands tapping the steering wheel. She kept seeing his face throughout the date. The way he'd stared at her in shock and gotten that hungry gleam of lust in his eyes. For her. She could practically feel the energy zinging between them, and she'd fought the impulse to cross the room and kiss him. She dreamed of feeling his lips just one more time over hers and his hands stroking her skin. She dreamed of him slamming her against the wall and taking her like a man possessed, hungry to slip between her thighs and claim her.

  She squeezed her legs together as arousal hit. Why did she keep doing this to herself? She had to accept Connor was only a friend. She may have done something stupid and fallen for him, but it was her secret to keep. This date was the first step of her moving on. She may not have wanted to attack Ed across the table, but he'd made her feel good. Like there was hope.

  She grabbed her purse and went inside. The house was quiet and halfway dark, so she tiptoed into the living room to see if they'd fallen asleep on the couch in front of the television.

  "Did you have a good time?"

  She jumped and spun around. Connor leaned against the wall in front of her, holding a beer. "You scared me! Is Luke in bed?"

  "Yeah. We watched Antman, ate pizza, and he went t
o sleep an hour ago." His gaze narrowed, raking over her figure. Goose bumps broke out on her arms. "Did you have a good time?" he repeated.

  She swallowed and walked past him, laying down her purse. "Yes. It was good. Thanks for watching him. I owe you."

  She waited for him to say good night and head home, but he remained standing, oddly silent. Her stomach clenched and she nervously walked around the house, straightening odds and ends. Her skin burned as if he'd touched her, and tension cranked in the air around them. What was going on?

  "Aren't you going to give me the details?" he drawled.

  She put two cups in the dishwasher and opened up the refrigerator to snatch a bottle of water. "We had a nice dinner. He was a nice guy. Nothing much left to tell."

  "Did he kiss you?"

  She choked on the water and coughed uncontrollably. Anger replaced her nerves. "What kind of question is that? It's none of your business. I don't ask about your dates."

  "But we're friends, right? Don't friends share all the juicy details?"

  She raised her chin and glared. "We're not that type of friends, Connor. You're also still technically my student. Look, I don't know what's going on here, but I think you better leave."

  He put the beer down on the counter. "You're right. I should leave." He squeezed his eyes shut as if an inner battle was being waged. "I don't want to mess this up. I should go home and forget everything I want to say to you right now. I should forget everything I want to do."

  She stilled. Poised on the edge of heart-stopping danger, Ella knew the only way to escape unscathed was to tell him to leave one more time. He'd obey, and the next time they saw each other, they'd be back to friends. Instead, she sealed her fate. "What things?"

  His eyes flew open. She waited for him to walk away. Instead, he strode toward her. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs as he stopped inches away, his beautiful face tight with concentration. The burning blue of his eyes scorched her. "Bad things. I've been thinking about you all night. About another man touching you. I hated it. I don't want to leave, and I don't want anyone else touching you, Ella."

  Her body trembled. The leashed fury of lust and want flicked at her, and a low groan rose to her lips, a groan of pure need. Warning bells clanged. She desperately tried to think of all the reasons this was not a good idea, but her brain shut down and her body roared for more. "This isn't a good idea."

  "No. This is a terrible idea, but I'm not in control. So you need to stop me. Because all night while you were on your date, I thought of touching you. Kissing you." He paused. "Fucking you."

  "Oh, God." She practically shook at his dirty words, growing wet between her thighs. She lifted her arms to push him away, but instead they lay against his hard chest. The muscles jumped beneath her touch. "Connor."

  He lowered his head. His breath struck her lips. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to screw up the best relationship I've ever had with a woman. But I want you, Ella. I want to put my hands all over you, under you, in you. I want to give you so much pleasure you can only say my name over and over. I know I should walk away, for both of our sakes. So, stop me, sweetheart. Stop me right now."

  Their eyes met and locked. Her arms slid up over his chest and around his neck, and she rose to her tiptoes and said the words. "I can't. I don't want you to stop," she said softly. "Take what you want."

  His mouth slammed over hers.

  It was as if the months not touching had built up between them and exploded in a firestorm. Their first kiss in the snow had been so sweet and slow, a preliminary dance of exploration and growing arousal.

  This kiss was raw lust and blistering need in a completely uncivilized world. He devoured her mouth whole, his tongue staking his claim, and he lifted her up in one swoop and placed her on the kitchen counter. Swallowing her throaty moans, he pushed open her legs and stood between them, his fingers gently caressing her cheek as his mouth worked its dirty magic.

  Drunk on the taste and feel of him, she slipped her hands under his T-shirt and hit silky hard muscles and a nest of dense hair. Digging her fingernails into his flesh, he nipped at her bottom lip and ripped off her jacket, his erection pressing against her in mouth-watering temptation.

  Ella lost her mind under his sensual assault. There were no rules between them as they tugged off clothes and worshipped bare skin. He yanked down her bra and sucked on her hard nipples, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming in pleasure. Her skirt was pushed up to her hips, and his fingers hooked under the lace of her panties and dove into her wet heat.

  Her legs squeezed around his hips as he pumped his fingers in and out of her pussy, licking her nipple, and then he brushed the tight bud of her clit and she jerked in his arms.

  "You feel so damn good," he muttered in her ear. "Wet and hot and sweet. I should take you to bed, go slow--"

  "Right here, right now." She arched up as he teased her clit, his thumb rubbing in slow circles, driving her further. "Do you have a condom?"

  He bit her neck, licked the hurt. Her fingers stumbled on the zipper of his jeans, but it finally opened and she pushed the denim over his hips. His hard, massive length sprung free, and she thanked heavens the man didn't wear underwear.

  "Yes, in my pocket. Oh, God, you're going to come, aren't you? Come now. Come for me."

  He pressed against her clit and plunged his fingers deep, curling just right.

  She exploded, her hips jerking against him as she buried her mouth against his chest to muffle her scream. He cursed viciously and kept up the movements, wringing out her orgasm to a shattering conclusion.

  He twisted his hands in her hair and kissed her fiercely. "Get the condom." Her voice came out husky, raspy. "I need you."

  She squeezed his erection, working her fingers up and down his shaft until he threw back his head, eyes squeezed tight, his face carved in the lines of pure ecstasy. She drank in his expression, loving the pleasure she gave as her thumb skimmed the dripping tip and she increased the rhythm to a rapid pace, as he grew harder and longer under her touch.

  He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew the condom. Ripping it open, she helped him sheathe himself, and then he pushed her back onto the counter and raised himself up, his arms resting on both sides of her body like a conqueror about to enjoy his spoils.

  "I don't want to hurt you," he grit out. "I don't want to go fast."

  She spread her legs wide and offered herself up. "Hurt me. Take me. Now."

  He grasped her panties and tore. The material fell off, leaving her bare. He said her name, in a curse or a prayer, and surged inside her.

  Ella gasped, embracing the raw edge of pain and pleasure as he filled her completely. Her body surrendered under his gentle hands, his rough thrusts that pushed her to the edge again, trembling under the force of earth-shattering tension and need.

  She memorized every line of his face, every spark in his eyes. She gave him everything as he claimed her body and soul, and let herself fly with no other thought than to give in to the wracking waves of pleasure that claimed her body.

  Gripping her hips and yanking her higher, he thrust even deeper, his fingers playing with her clit, and she whispered his name over and over as she came again.

  "Yes, yes, fucking perfect. Fucking mine."

  With a growl, he joined her, slamming his hips and taking her mouth in a deep, soul-stirring kiss.

  Time paused. Their breathing slowed. Quiet fell.

  Moving slowly, he removed and disposed of the condom, pulled up his jeans, and eased her gently to a sitting position. Ella watched in silence, not able to speak or think. He pulled down her skirt, eased up her jacket, and picked her up from the counter, walking into the living room.

  Sitting down on the couch, he cuddled her on his lap and pulled the afghan over both of them. With a sigh, she laid her cheek against his chest, breathing in his scent. He stroked her hair and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

  "I just want to hold you for a little while," he said quiet
ly. "Is that okay?"

  She held him tighter, snuggling into the warmth, and closed her eyes. "Yes."

  Then she drifted to sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  "Beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty -- it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life -- froze it."--Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

  Connor stared at his test, trying to get his head in the game.

  Cliche.

  God, what had he done?

  Her voice filled the classroom in a lilting melody that haunted him. She walked on soundless shoes, back and forth in front of the classroom, dressed in her usual attire. Long dark skirt. Black ballet-type slippers. A loose mid-sleeve sweater in a dull beige. Her hair was still up, but her bun wasn't as severe, and several silky locks escaped and pressed against her cheek. The glasses were back, sliding down her nose at regular intervals, and she used a scarlet-painted fingernail to jam them back in place. The orange lipstick was gone, replaced by a stained red that made it hard for him to concentrate on her words.

  She was back to herself, but different. Everything had now changed. He knew how soft and silky her skin was underneath her clothes; knew the muscled strength of her legs as she wrapped them around his hips; knew how her tight, wet pussy clenched around him when he thrust inside her; knew the stinging bite of her teeth and the ripe fruit of her lips.

  He'd spent all night imagining her kissing another guy. Imagining his friend, his Ella, belonging to someone else. He'd drank a beer and brooded, and soon he'd worked himself into such a state, when she came through the door he'd lost control.

  He was wrecked. He couldn't stop thinking about that night, though three full days had passed without contact. He'd slipped away in the middle of the night, disentangling himself with her warm body. He thought about showing up at her door the next morning to talk. He thought about calling her. Instead, he took on back-to-back shifts, arriving home late, then spending hours on his homework.

  He knew he'd see her today and planned to arrive early. Exchange a few words.

  But he'd gotten caught in traffic and walked into class late. She hadn't even deigned to make a comment, keeping her gaze firmly averted and her focus on her lecture.