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31
BRIDGET
* * *
Mav held the door for me, and I climbed into his car. Instead of shutting it, he squatted down.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
His eyes were level with mine and they roved over my face, drifting from them to my mouth and back.
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t lying. I was used to the feel of living with what my professor did. Mallory was still obviously pissed and now so were the James brothers.
He reached out and took my hand, ran his thumb–in a very distracting way–over my knuckles. “I want you to come home with me, because, well, I’m selfish and want you there so I know you’re safe, but I’ll take you home instead if you’re not comfortable.”
He needed to be reassured by me? That made no sense. Except, I’d had months to process it, Mav had had ten minutes.
“It was a while ago now. I’m over it.”
He frowned. “No, you’re not.”
I sighed. “I’m not, but I’m moving on. I have no choice.”
“Yes, you do. Fight him. Sue him. Prove he stole from you.”
I shook my head. “It’s his word against mine. A tenured professor versus a student?”
“You’re so smart that–”
“Everyone there is smart. I’m not all that special.”
His eyes narrowed. “What did I say about that kind of talk?”
I had to laugh. “All I’m saying is that it’s like the Olympics. Compared to everyone else at home, you’re an incredibly fast skier or runner. Then when you show up at the Olympics, everyone is as good as you. Or better. I’m not the only one good at math at MIT.”
“Then you’d have won the Math Olympics gold medal because a tenured professor stole from you.”
He had a point.
“I don’t have the money to sue him. Or whatever. It’s done.” I had the hottest pseudo-lumberjack in front of me. The last thing I wanted to talk, or think about, was Professor Diego.
The look Mav was giving me didn’t indicate that it was done. At all.
“I want you to kiss me,” I told him, my gaze latched onto his lips. “That’s what I want.”
I did. I wanted that really bad. We were interrupted earlier, and I wanted to know what Mav would have done if his brothers hadn’t rang the doorbell. He’d given me orgasms and I was addicted. I hadn’t known what I’d been missing, but I craved it now. Maybe I was sex starved after all.
A slow smile crept across his face and his dark eyes dropped to my lips. “That I can do.”
His hand slid up my arm and cupped the back of my neck, tugged gently on my hair, making me gasp.
He kissed me then, not gently. Not sweetly. Hell, no. This was as if I was his source of oxygen and he was taking, taking, taking.
I moaned. He tipped my head, then growled, taking my lips again, then working along my jaw.
He tasted me. Licked. Sucked. Nipped.
“Mav,” I whispered. We were in a little pocket of quiet between cars in the parking lot. I felt sheltered and safe with him.
