“Goodbye, Liam.”
Chapter Five
September
Long Island, New York
Liam felt her before he saw her.
The rest of the class filed out of the lecture hall, grumbling a little too loudly about the grades on their papers. He finished wiping down the dry erase board and gathered his things, ignoring the itchy sensation on his back as she waited for him. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry, so he took his time, enjoying the itch a bit more than he should.
They hadn’t talked about the night several weeks ago when they’d met. A night he couldn’t make himself regret, no matter how wrong it was. She’d texted him that night as he had asked, a cursory “I’m home” and nothing more. It had taken more willpower than he knew he possessed not to text her back.
Finally, Liam turned around to face her, schooling his face into a look of surprise, as if he hadn’t known she’d been standing there for five minutes. As if he wasn’t acutely aware of her whereabouts any time they were in the same vicinity. His mask slipped when he actually took in the sight of her, however. She was beautiful (but that was nothing new) in jeans and a slouchy sweater so large it slid off one shoulder revealing a tantalizing swath of skin and the delicate strap of her bra. He fought the urge to lick his lips as his body remembered kissing the curve where her neck met her shoulder, the salt of her skin on his tongue.
He’d been distracted by that thin black bra strap and that smooth skin throughout his entire lecture and maintained his composure. But now, the thing that shook his carefully constructed expression was hers. Min was flushed, her cheeks and throat painted pink. He wondered how far down that pink spread. Did it color her sternum? The swell of her breasts?
Fuck. I’m going to hell for even thinking about a student’s breasts.
“Ms. Taylor, how can I help you?” he asked in his most professorial voice.
She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes the way she always did when he called her Ms. Taylor. He was sure she was trying to convey displeasure, but it was too fucking adorable. Min held out a photocopied stack of sheet music for his inspection. He didn’t need to look to know what it was. A lump formed in his throat.
“What is this?” she demanded.
Liam leaned against the table at the front of the classroom, crossing one ankle over the other and his arms over his chest – the picture of unapproachable. Not that he wanted to be unapproachable. He very much wanted her to approach him. But that was precisely the problem. He didn’t trust himself with her. And a distraction like this – a beautiful student that he desperately wanted to fuck – would be enough to derail all of his plans.
“It’s your scene assignment for workshop. What exactly don’t you understand?”
He knew it was an asshole thing to say. He knew exactly why she was upset. But better for her to think he was an asshole and keep her distance. Better for who? He still wasn’t sure.
Min’s mouth fell open, but she caught herself. “Why this piece?” she asked.
He caught her wounded tone and for a moment he felt badly for making this choice for her. But he couldn’t have done otherwise. The director was hellbent on including the aria in this semester’s workshop and he couldn’t have anyone else sing the part. He also wasn’t sure if he could survive without hearing her sing it again. He studied her expression, trying to determine if he truly had pushed her too far. The blush in her cheeks deepened.
He softened his tone. “Because no one else can sing it the way you do.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to be so gravely. He hadn’t meant to sound like he was remembering the taste of her, even if he was.
“I don’t sing Marietta anymore.”
There was that lump again. He was only partially successful in swallowing it down this time. “That would be a shame,” he said. Then quieter, gentler, “Please, Min.”
Her head snapped up to look at him and there was something new in her eyes – longing and uncertainty, to be sure, but also fire. A fierceness that sparked to life in her irises when he said her name. It called to him. He would say her name every minute of every day if she would keep looking at him like that. He shifted his stance to hide the way his body responded to her eyes on him.
She’s your student. You cannot fuck your student, he reminded himself.
She nodded, turned on her heel, grabbed her messenger bag from a chair in the front row, and left his classroom, leaving him alone with the beginnings of a hard on and a tightness in his throat he could hardly breathe around.
As the door swung open for her to leave, Liam caught a glimpse of the boy waiting for her in the hallway. A quiet boy with dark curly hair who had mastered the art of the brood. A tenor named Bobby. Bobby’s eyes heated as he stared at Min, his gaze traveling up and down her body before he fell in line next to her as they walked down the hall. He never touched her, but his eyes said he intended to.
It took more effort than it should have for Liam to swallow the irrational wave of anger that pitched in his stomach when Min smiled at thatboy, the jealousy that burned at the edges of his vision as the door closed behind her.
He had no right to be jealous. He had no claim on her, even if he could still hear her gasps as she came around his fingers, could still taste her pleasure on his tongue.
And it wasn’t just that Min might let someone else touch her – though he’d be lying if he said that didn’t sting, too. But he couldn’t fault her for that. After all, he’d spent the last three weeks fucking every woman who smiled at him in a desperate effort to purge Min from his system. The barista, the woman from the gym – he’d broken his own rule and called them all again. It hadn’t worked. If anything, it just made him want Min more.
No, it wasn’t the idea that Min was maybe trying to move on in the same way he was. It was that Bobby was so goddamn unworthy of her. Not just of her body or her affections, but of her mind, of her talent, even of her notice. The kid had raw talent, Liam had to give him that, but he was sure Bobby was a typical tenor, using every high note he had to get as many girls into bed as he could.
Please don’t sleep with him.
