"You live near here?" she asked.
Was she seriously not going to tell me what the hell had happened tonight? The small talk made me feel like it was bad. Worse than the millions of things running through my head. "Yes."
"Where?"
I stopped at a red light and leaned across her to open the glove compartment. All I wanted to do was turn my head and kiss her. I told myself it wasn’t a possibility because she’d be drunk. But she wasn’t. I didn’t smell any alcohol on her breath. The only smell was those damn cherry blossoms. Everywhere. I smelled her everywhere.
But just because she wasn’t drunk didn’t mean she was in any state to make good decisions tonight. And even if she was, I certainly wasn’t. I was furious. She had been sitting alone on the curb bleeding. I grabbed a tissue and placed it gently on one of her cut knees. Ignoring her question, I asked, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"
"I fell, that's all," she whispered. Her gaze dropped to my lips.
I’d been dreaming of being alone with her. But not like this. Not when rage was pulsing through my veins. I let go of the tissue and sat back in the driver's seat.
She blotted her knees with the tissue.
"That's all?" I asked, my eyes never leaving her face.
She lifted her stiletto from her lap and shrugged.
That wasn’t the whole story. We both knew it. And I was going to get to the bottom of it. When the light turned green I stepped on the gas. "You enjoyed your date then?"
"No."
I was going to kill whoever she was with. My knuckles were turning white because I was gripping the steering wheel so tight. I tried to take a deep breath as we drove on in silence. We were almost back to her dorm and I had zero answers. Just more questions.
"Is that what you wanted to hear?" she asked.
"I don't desire for you to be unhappy, Miss Taylor." I just wish it was me she was choosing to pursue happiness with. I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn’t look over at her. I’d resolved not to kiss her tonight because I knew she’d been drinking. But now? I felt my resolve disappearing the farther I drove. And my anger. Tasting her was all I could think about. This was my chance. Possibly my one and only chance.
"Why did you give me your number, Professor Hunter?"
I pulled to the curb outside of her dorm and turned the car off. "You seem keen on putting yourself in dangerous situations." I glanced at her clingy dress and then got out of the car. I needed to walk her to her door. To make sure she didn’t fall again. To make sure nothing else bad ever happened to her.
I ran through the rain and opened her door. She stepped out slowly like she wasn’t ready for this moment to be over.
And I wasn’t either. Instead of turning to walk her to the door I just stood there, staring at her. The dream that had plagued me since we’d met seemed to be playing in slow motion. It was pouring and I was waiting for something to happen. Waiting for a sign that she wanted the same things I did. A sign that it was okay to touch her. Any sign that what I wanted wasn’t wrong.
"Professor Hunter..."
Fuck. I needed her. I needed her so badly. I leaned down and placed my hands on the car on either side of her. Our mouths were less than an inch apart. I needed to warn her to stay away from me. I needed to tell her she was about to make a mistake. But I could feel the heat of her breath in the rain, alluring and sweet. Instead of saying anything, I drew a fraction of an inch closer.
"I can't seem to stop thinking about you," she whispered.
That sign would do. I grabbed the back of her neck and let my lips meet hers. Fuck. Her kiss was full of passion, passion that she had been holding back just as much as I had. And there wasn’t any trace of alcohol on her tongue. She was making this decision clearly. She wanted this just as badly as me.
I pressed my body against hers and lightly pushed her so that her back was on the cold, wet steel of the car. I leaned into her, feeling the friction of her hips against the front of my jeans. Her hand wandered beneath the back of my hoodie, skimming over my skin.
I felt the same heat as I did when I touched her wrist. The warmth of perfection a stark contrast to what I was. And I didn’t want to stop kissing her. I never wanted to stop kissing her. Never. I wanted to push her skirt up right here in front of her dorm. Feel her wetness. Fuck her senseless. I didn’t know how to stop. I felt all my self-control slipping away with each swirl of her tongue. Every ounce of control seeped out of me. And that wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all.
Her hands rose higher up my back. Her skin against mine a delicious feeling that I suddenly wasn’t sure I knew how to live without.
Fuck. I couldn’t do this. Just because I was broken didn’t mean I needed to break her. I groaned as I pulled my lips away from her. "Penny, you need to try to stop." Because I can’t. I can’t stop. And the thought was terrifying. I stepped back and lifted the hood of my hoodie over my head. I can’t stop. I rubbed my forehead as I walked around the car. I can’t stop. I glanced at her once more before climbing back in my car.
Fuck! I sped off without looking back. I could feel myself slipping. Slipping back into my old habits. I wasn’t going to revert to the man I was before I moved here. I couldn’t. I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. I was supposed to get her out of my system. Instead I’d just gotten my first taste of perfection. And I was greedy for more.
Chapter 13
Sunday
I ran my fingers along the leather armrest. It was easier to stare at the crease that the repetitive gesture made than to make eye contact with Dr. Clark. Besides, I’d already decided what to do about Penny. I no longer needed to discuss it.
“Your phone isn’t attached to your hand today,” Dr. Clark said, finally breaking the silence.
How insightful. I was in a foul mood, but it wasn’t his fault. I plastered a fake smile onto my face and then let it fall. Putting an act on for my therapist wasn’t helping me. Clearly. “Nope.”
“Did you hear back from the woman you were interested in? Your colleague?”
“It’s not going to work out.”
He shifted in his chair, his notebook settling on his lap. “And why is that?”
“Because you were wrong…I’m not ready to date.”
He gave me a hard stare. “And why is that?”
I hated when he repeated himself. It made me feel like a petulant child. I took a deep breath instead of snapping at him. “She broke up my routine too much. You’re the one who always says my routine is so important.”
“But your routine shouldn’t be used as an excuse to stop living, James.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t you think you could add one or two date nights a week to your routine? Most couples hang out on Friday and Saturday nights when they’re first dating. You can easily adjust your schedule to accommodate change.”
And where would I take my student? To the bar down the street? Dr. Clark didn’t understand. I looked down at the leather armrest again. It wasn’t just about the change of routine. That wasn’t it at all. It was the feeling that I wasn’t in control. I’d fucking kissed her outside her dorm building. Anyone could have seen us. For a second I had forgotten what we were. A professor and his student. It was like I lost all reason around her. And that wasn’t acceptable behavior. Not for someone like me.