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"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.
