by Shelia Grace
Looking up at the building, I did a double take. When he had said he was taking me to his place, I had been expecting a grungy little apartment building like the ones that littered the periphery of campus. Instead, the blue and white house we were standing in front of was small, but charming and well taken care of. I handed him the helmet and continued to stare.
“Is this … your place?”
He nodded.
“I thought grad students were supposed to live in cramped little apartments and eat Ramen for every meal,” I said, following him up the front stairs.
“How do you know my kitchen isn’t packed with Ramen noodles?”
He unlocked the front door, and a large German Shepherd bounded out and stuck its nose between my legs.
“Finn, sit.”
“Pretty dog, for a crotch sniffer,” I laughed.
Ryan Matthews suddenly got the oddest expression on his face, and I blushed.
“Sorry!” I squeaked. “I can’t be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth when I haven’t eaten. It’s like my circuitry comes unwired.”
I bent over and petted Finn. Our dog Marty had died a month after I left for school. But Mom and Stephen had waited until Thanksgiving to break the news. I was livid they hadn’t told me, but deep down I knew I would have been wrecked all fall quarter if I had found out sooner. Poor Marty. They said it had probably been a brain tumor, and the damn dog had been a little funny in the head.
“You want something to eat?” Ryan asked, taking my backpack from me as I followed him from the front of the house into the kitchen.
“It’s really late,” I said lamely.
“And you’re hungry, right?”
I had missed the dinner hour at the dining commons before leaving for Calculus, and I had been planning to go back to the dorm to heat up some Cup Noodles, the evil cousin of Ramen.
“Yeah, I am,” I admitted.
I looked around. His kitchen was very adult. The whole house was. Pristine hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, nice furniture, artwork on the walls. Then it hit me again. This guy was a lot older than me. A lot older. I watched as he moved confidently around the kitchen, taking items out of the refrigerator and pantry, assembling olive oil, garlic, tomato sauce, herbs and spices, fresh pasta.
He turned and smiled at me, his blue eyes darker than they had seemed in class. My stomach swirled and jumped in the same way it had when his tongue had skimmed along my lip. And suddenly, more than anything, I wanted him to do it again. I blushed and looked away from him.
“Do you need help with anything?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Sit down. Relax. Do you want some wine?” he mumbled, engrossed in the items on the chopping block.
A second later, he looked up with a shocked expression, like he had just realized what he said. I sat down at the island in the middle of the kitchen and smiled at him.
“Wine would be nice.”
I said it casually, when in reality I hadn’t had more than a sip of any alcohol in my life. Rachel was always trying to get me to drink up when I went over to her dorm, but she was fucking smashed every time I went over there—and her constant state of drunkenness had taken its toll on our friendship. At this point, I didn’t see her more than every couple of weeks, and it was always a little awkward. Her suitemates loved—loved—to party, and I always felt a little out of place hanging out on the couch while they went crazy with the drinking games.
It wasn’t that I was a prude—all right, maybe a little—but my “real” dad had been a major drunk. AA hadn’t worked. Instead, he had just found other stuff to get addicted to. Like gambling. It kind of made me scared to touch the stuff. Like Mom was always saying: slippery slope. But I figured a little glass of wine right now might not be a bad idea. It might even take the edge off of sitting in my way-older TA’s house and wanting him to kiss me again. He returned from the refrigerator with a bottle of sparkling water.
“I just came back from the cop shop,” he smiled. “I’m not about to get arrested for contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”
“I’m not a minor!”
“You’re not twenty-one, and you’re in my advisor’s class.”
Frowning, I accepted the glass of sparkling water and took a sip, watching as he took out a bottle of wine from an insanely well-stocked, high-end wine chiller. I read the label as he poured himself a glass. It looked expensive.
He had papers everywhere on the island. They looked like math theorems—way out of my league. Well, anything math-related was way out of my league, but still. Setting down my glass, I knocked over a stack of mail.
“Shit,” I mumbled.
I got up and bent over to pick up the envelopes. Looking down at them, I blinked. Ryan Bennett. Everything here was addressed to Ryan Bennett, not Ryan Matthews. I looked over at him as he sautéed the garlic. God, he had a great ass. Finally I snapped out of it.
“Who the hell are you?”
He turned from the stove and looked at me blankly. I picked up one of the envelopes and waved it in the air.
“Professor Robertson introduced you as Ryan Matthews. So, who the hell is Ryan Bennett?”
He poured the sauce into the sauté pan and then ran a large hand through his golden hair. Suddenly, I froze. The label on the fucking wine! How could I have been so dense? Bennett Family Cellars.
“Oh, fuck. You’re like the heir to a fucking winery, aren’t you?”
He laughed.
“You make it sound like I rob banks.”
“What are you doing here studying math when you could be sitting on a veranda swirling wine around in a glass?”
“This is my vacation from the family business.”
“Studying math? Are you insane?”
“My father thinks so.”
His face changed when he said this, his brow furrowing and the corners of his mouth turning down.
“All right. Then what’s with the fake name?”
“It’s my mother’s maiden name.”
“Oh.” I sighed. “Shit. Sorry I keep flipping out. I guess I’m a little on edge.”
“I wonder why …” he said, picking up the bottle of wine. “I’m having second thoughts about contributing to the delinquency of a minor. You want that glass of wine?”
I nodded, watching as he poured the tiniest amount possible into an expensive looking glass and swirled it around. When he held it out to me, I hesitated before taking it and lifting the glass to my lips. It smelled spicy. I took a quick sip, not knowing what to expect.
“Mmm. Blackberries … and vanilla.”
He laughed again.
“Do you drink a lot of wine?”
I shook my head.
“Then I’m impressed.”
He walked over to the boiling water and poured in the pasta. I watched in awe as he moved fluidly around the kitchen assembling the meal.
“Well, I’m impressed, too,” I smiled.
“Wait ’til you taste it,” he grinned.
A few minutes later, we were sitting at the small dining room table with Finn the dog planted squarely at my feet. Ryan poured me a little bit more wine, and I picked up my fork and wound some noodles onto it. Taking a bite, I gasped and closed my eyes. When I opened them, my TA was staring at me in a way that made my stomach tingle.
“That is the best thing I’ve ever tasted!”
“I suppose that’s what three months of dining common food and Ramen will do to a girl.”
“Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
“There’s a restaurant at my parent’s winery. The chef’s a genius. He taught me a thing or two.”
I took another sip of wine.
“This is really good, too.”
He nodded and smiled again.
“It’s the vintage I use to impress the ladies.”
Ryan blinked again like he hadn’t meant to say that, either, and I quirked an eyebrow.
“Am I a la
dy?” I laughed.
“You … are a student of my advisor.”
I really wished he would stop saying that, and for a second he looked as frustrated as I felt. Without another word, both of us went back to concentrating on our food. By the time I stood up to help clear the dishes, my head was swimming even though I hadn’t even finished the half a glass of wine. I teetered a little carrying my plate to the sink, and Ryan took it from me.
“Why don’t you sit down on the couch?”
I hiccupped. It was loud and embarrassing, and I nodded. Before reaching the couch, I stopped at the iPod dock and pressed play out of curiosity before sprawling out a little dizzily. It took a little while for the music to kick in.
“I love this album!” I squawked before clapping my hand over my mouth.
I hadn’t meant to be so loud. Reaching forward, I put my wine on the coffee table just as Ryan came walking out of the kitchen with a dishtowel.
“This is a little before your time,” he said wryly.
“I like good music. So sue me.”
He walked over and sat down next to me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his skin through his jeans and shirt. I shivered.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Are you kidding? I’ve been cold ever since I moved to Northern California!”
I watched as he pulled a fleece blanket from the back of the couch and offered it to me. Taking it, I wrapped it around my shoulders and tried not to think about the fact that I’d be a lot warmer if I were wrapped in his arms.
“You’re from SoCal?” he asked.
“Irvine,” I cringed.
“The best-planned community on the planet.”
“You know it?”
“Yeah, why didn’t you go to UCI?”
I made a face.
“Are you serious? And live with my mom and stepdad for another four years? It would have felt like another four years of high school.”
He smiled.
“That’s all college is really.”
“Yeah, right! There is no way in hell I’d be sitting on a couch discussing my life with a hot guy …”
I trailed off. Leaning forward to grab the glass of wine, I drained it before he could say anything. When I sat back, he reached over and moved a piece of hair out of my eyes. I sucked in a quick breath. For a second, I had thought he was going to kiss me again, but he just leaned away and smiled.
“You never told me why you’re taking Calculus.”
I swallowed my disappointment and shook my head.
“I told you. It’s a long, embarrassing, stupid story.”
“Humor me,” he smiled.
I exhaled and started from the beginning. About how my health teacher in high school had convinced me that I was “smart enough to be a doctor.” And then the whole part about watching L.A. Medical reruns for two straight weeks before coming to school. And finally my mom’s closet obsession with having a doctor for a kid.
“Then what do you really want to be when you grow up, Alex Reed?”
I shrugged.
“I don’t know. Not a doctor, but now I’m stuck in my second quarter of Calculus, and I’m failing miserably.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I spent four years doing something I didn’t want to do after college before deciding to follow my dream.”
“Of being the hot professor?” I laughed.
Shut up, Alex! I snapped in my head. Ryan Bennett’s blue eyes turned serious as he stared at me.
“That’s the second time you’ve called me hot … and I think you’re a little drunk.”
“I only had half a glass of wine!”
“Have you had wine before?”
I shook my head, feeling insanely young again.
“Then, I think you should go to bed before I get myself into trouble,” he said quietly.
I hiccupped again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He got up without answering me and went down the hall. He came back a minute later with a brand new toothbrush and an oversized T-shirt.
“The bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Your room is the first door on the right.”
“My room?”
“Did you think we were sleeping in the same room?” he asked.
His eyes had gone oddly cold and mean, and I blushed again.
“No … I mean … I just thought I was going to sleep on the couch.”
Chapter 4
Ryan
I wanted her so badly that I could barely see straight, and it was causing me to be a dick. She stood up from the couch, fidgeting and nervous, and I hated myself for fucking with her.
“Come on,” I sighed. “I’ll show you.”
I walked her down the hall and opened the door to the spare bedroom.
“Oh my god!” she gasped.
It was just a bed, nightstand, chair, reading table, and dresser, but Alex seemed mesmerized.
“That bed is like four times the size as the one in my dorm! This might be the first good night of sleep I’m going to get this quarter.”
“So, you’ll be okay here?” I asked dryly.
She turned and smiled at me. Her lips were perfect and heart-shaped.
“Thank you, Professor Matthews … or is it Bennett?”
“You can call me anything you want as long as it doesn’t start with Professor.”
Her cheeks turned bright pink again, and I gestured for her to follow me.
“If you want to shower, there are extra towels in the closet.”
“No shower curtain!” she squeaked in delight.
I glanced at the shower door, trying to remember the last time I had been grateful for it.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
I stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Then I walked back into the kitchen and straightened up before waking up my laptop and looking around for the files I had been working on. Hearing the shower running, I stared at the computer screen for five minutes before realizing that the only thing I had managed to accomplish was imagining Alex Reed naked under the hot water.
Walking to my room, I went into the master bathroom and turned on the shower. I stripped off my clothes and hoped for relief as I stepped under the icy blast. Unfortunately it did very little to alleviate the problem.
What the fuck? Had I had taken my father’s Viagra by accident?
I got out and wrapped the towel around my waist as I stomped into the bedroom looking for a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. I never slept in them, but it wasn’t like I could go without them tonight. Pulling a pair from the dresser, I threw the towel on the bed. Hearing a gasp, I turned around and saw the little freshman framed in the doorway, her mouth open, her eyes about to pop out of her head as they traveled from my shoulders … all the way down. My cock throbbed in response. Suddenly she snapped out of her trance, and with a faint squeak, she darted down the hall.
The urge to follow her and take her right up against the wall was almost fucking overwhelming. Quietly slipping on the pants, which were achingly rough against my skin, I sat on the edge of the bed and ran my hand over my face. What the fuck was I thinking? After several shuddering breaths, I rose to my feet and walked carefully down the hallway to the guest bedroom. The lamp was on, and the door was ajar. Without knocking, I walked in and saw Alex sitting on the bed.
Her dark hair was still wet and hanging halfway down her back. Her cheeks were flushed, but whether that was from a hot shower or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. She was biting her lip, and I could see the rise and fall of her chest was quick and uneven. Fuck. I wanted her.
“Forgot I had company,” I said apologetically.
She smiled, but it came out crooked and shaky.
“That’s okay,” she whispered breathlessly.
Looking down, I noticed Finn was sleeping at the foot of the bed. Traitor dog.
“Do you need anything? Water?” A good hard fucking?
I grimaced at th
e thoughts that kept entering my head. Was I eighteen again? Did I have absolutely no fucking self-control? She shook her head.
“No, I’m fine,” she said quietly.
“Do you have class tomorrow?”
I kept my tone casual like this girl hadn’t sized up my throbbing cock only moments ago.
“At four.”
“No a.m. classes on a Friday. How’d you manage that as a freshman?”
My voice was hoarse, and I sounded like a complete fucking idiot.
“Luck, I guess,” she smiled, staring at my chest.
I wanted to see her legs, but she had the blankets up to her waist like she was in a convalescent home. I wonder why, dumbass? I thought savagely. I had just given her the full view … the girl who had never kissed anyone until tonight. Fuck. Not a safe thought.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said, smiling stupidly.
I started walking out.
“Ryan?”
I swung back and looked into her jade-green eyes.
“Thank you. For everything … including my first kiss.”
She blushed again, and I tried not to swallow my tongue. It took everything I had—more—to smile and walk out of the room before my common sense was overwhelmed by the desperate need to feel her coming beneath me. If I had ever suffered this much, I had blocked it out. This girl had my cock in a vise.
Going down the hall into the dining room, I picked up my tablet and the department laptop. Then I forced myself to walk past the door to the guestroom. When I got to my room, I set the hardware on the bed and dropped to the floor for a hundred push-ups. The entire time, my brain battered me with memories of the gasp and helpless whimper that had escaped her lips.
Had it just been surprise? Or because no one had ever touched her before? My arms gave way and I dropped to the floor, panting and somehow even more turned on because I had been the first to kiss her. It wasn’t like I was some degenerate who went around deflowering virgins. In fact, virgin was about the furthest applicable description of any of my ex-girlfriends.