Beauty and the Professor

by Skye Warren

  “This,” she said softly. The things they discussed in class, those constructs and mores that drew invisible arrows between ideas, that supported one conclusion and empirically disproved another…yes, they were interesting. Stimulating. A worthwhile pursuit in the bright hours of the day. But they paled in comparison to the deep and enduring connection between him and her, a safe place to rest when the night cast the world in shadows.

  She could live on the power coursing between them. She could thrive on it. If that made her less of an intellectual, she accepted that, because she knew what she felt. She still wanted to be successful, but not at the expense of her heart.

  That was why she’d come back to him. She’d rather lose her degree than give up the magic she’d found with him. She’d rather stand at his side than live in chains made of fear and ambition.

  His gaze was hard and tender at the same time. “Considering I’m the professor between us, I have a lot to learn from you.”

  She blushed. He smiled and reached up to touch her heated skin.

  “Be with me?” she whispered uncertainly. An apology and entreaty all at once. Not everything was solved and sorted between them, but then they never would be. Like the eddies and entrapments of life, they could only face each obstacle as it came. No promise of smooth waters, just a partner for the journey.

  His eyes softened. “You never have to ask, lovely. I’m here. Wherever you go and whenever you come back, I’m yours.”

  They leaned forward at the same time, their lips pressed together, bodies fusing. The air was sucked out of the room. She opened her mouth against his, drawing her breath from him, taking sustenance and feeding it back. Her tongue flicked into his mouth, and he groaned.

  “Upstairs,” he muttered. “No more sex on the sofa for a while.”

  She laughed but complied, preceding him up the stairs. “I saw the new window dressings.”

  “Not good enough. I’m going to buy up all the land around here too. Or maybe I can find an island. We’ll make a country for just the two of us.”

  “And you’ll be the king?” Reaching his bedroom, she climbed onto his bed.

  “Yes,” he said, making quick work of his clothes.

  Her mouth went dry at the sight of his naked body, the hard planes sprinkled with dark male hair. The erect length that rose between his legs. “And I’ll be the queen?”

  “You’ll be my subject. The first ordinance, no clothes on you. Ever.” He approached her and tugged off her shirt, her bra. Pulled her to stand and didn’t stop until she was naked.

  “What about when we have guests? Surely I should wear clothes then.”

  “We don’t permit visas,” he said apologetically. “Second ordinance. Everything you do must be in pursuit of pleasure.”

  She walked herself back on the bed while he followed. “This all seems very restrictive.”

  “I might let you leave occasionally. Once a day. To work and back.”

  “And yoga class?”

  “Is it self-serving for me to agree to that one too? It makes me so hot how flexible you are.”

  She grinned. “And an occasional girls’ night out?”

  “All these questions, this civil unrest,” he murmured against her neck. His lips skated over her collarbone, igniting nerves all over her body.

  She shivered. “Maybe I’ll have a rebellion.”

  “Ah, but you already rule me. Anything else is just a game we play.”

  Blake

  Blake allowed her to flip them over. She grasped his hands in hers, pinning him to the bed. Her curves were pale and tantalizing. He could do nothing but stare at her, entranced by the sight of her.

  Her strength held him down too. Not the physical force of her palms against his or her slender thighs straddling his but that indomitable will of hers. Threatened, but she pushed forward anyway. Uncertain, but she laid her heart open to him.

  She had humbled him downstairs. This, she’d said, connecting their hearts with their hands. And he’d known she was right. He’d felt she was right, but he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to find this place without her. It was like wandering a forest for years, only to have her take him by the hand and lead him to a cool, running stream. It had been here all along, he’d just been too blind to find it.

  She nipped at the line of his jaw. The pinch slid down his spine and burrowed itself into his balls. He bucked his hips, rubbing his cock between the damp folds of her sex.

  “Jesus, woman.”

  Her smile left no doubt that she knew her own power. It was potent sexuality. It was peace. He grasped her hands where they held his down, dying without being able to touch her and more than willing. This was the stuff of wet dreams, her body spread open to his hungry gaze, his held down for her pleasure.

  “Use me,” he said hoarsely. “Fuck me.”

  She bit her lip. “Not like that.”

  “How then?”

  She released him, supporting herself with the bed and half entwined with him. He immediately ran his hands along the slope of her back, admiring her smoothness, embracing her. A sensual roll of her hips and she hovered over him, the head of his cock hitched to her opening. He gritted his teeth to fight the piercing desire to thrust upward, holding his body flat against the bed. Slowly, achingly, she lowered herself to him, around him, enveloping him in softness and scalding him with exquisite heat.

  Her eyes remained on his through the entire downward slide and beyond. Even when she began to move over him in a sumptuous undulation, her warm gaze was locked with his. He drowned in those eyes, those amber pools of desire and acceptance. She looked deep inside him and found him worthy; he tithed with his body, his soul, for a chance to make her come. The ripples around his cock meant she was close, but her expression was solemn, focused. Steady.

  It wasn’t the right rhythm to make him come, not fast enough really, but he was glad of it. This way he could last. Even her gorgeous body and the poignant feel of her couldn’t overcome biology. The slow grind was a communion, a prayer—a goddamned miracle. He swallowed thickly. If he fondled her clit or sucked her nipples, she would clench around him in seconds, but he found himself reluctant to end this quickly. He wanted to watch her come at her own pace, to take her own pleasure. He wanted to suffer in wait.

  Her breasts pressed to his chest, and he knew she was rubbing her clit against his body. He was hard and aching in the clasp of her body, trembling with restraint. Her movements became smaller, more specific, rocking her hips over him, fucking him.

  She was taking from him, her pleasure, his power, and he was hollow from it, open. There wasn’t a single thing he’d hold back from her—not love, not sex. Not surrender.

  “Blake. Blake.” She was calling for him, sounding lost and afraid, staring into his eyes.

  “I’m here, baby. Fuck, I’m right here.” His voice was like grit in the air around them, rough and unruly.

  He felt a tightening of her inner muscles as she clamped down around him. A rush of hot liquid coated his cock. His eyes narrowed to slits, but he couldn’t close them, couldn’t look away—fuck, he couldn’t look away from the sight of her in climax, her face slack and open and so damned lovely. So lovely.

  He came. She was completely still over him, frozen at the peak, but he was coming in long, painful drags, emptying himself into her body, finding completion and so much more. There was nothing sweeter than the feel of her falling apart in his arms, needing him, trusting him—of finally trusting himself.

  Trusting himself to do what was right, what was necessary, even if it wasn’t what he wanted. Her inner muscles flexed around him, and he forced himself to roll them over, to pull away from her. He pushed the hair away from her face, cradling her cheek.

  “Erin,” he murmured. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

  Her body went rigid beneath his, sensual pleasure draining from her eyes. “What?”

  He dealt with Melinda, but she was only a symptom of the problem. Sh
e would never have been able to threaten Erin if Blake hadn’t been with her. “Baby, I love you more than life. And I love you enough to let you go. How can I stand behind a podium and teach about ethics, without living it myself?”

  She sat up, dragging a sheet to cover herself. Already he was losing her, even if it was only the sight of her pink-tipped breasts. It felt like losing a limb. A vital organ.

  He had to make the sever complete.

  “We talked about this,” she said, her voice wavery. “You didn’t force me to do anything. And I stopped working for you. Isn’t that enough? That should be enough.”

  “I know I didn’t mean to force you. And I know you didn’t feel forced, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was your employer at the time. That I became your professor. I should know more than anyone that the ends don’t justify the means.”

  “Blake, don’t do this to us. It’s just a little bit longer.”

  “And maybe then…” He forced himself to stop, not to give her false hope, not to sway her decision in any way. She needed to be free to graduate without a barrier, to choose her path without taking him into account. If she found her way back to him he would be grateful beyond reason, he would fall down at her feet, but he could not ask her to stay.

  It took a strength of will he wasn’t sure he had to pull away from the bed and walk to the closet. To pull on a pair of sweatpants as if that could negate what they’d just done. “No, not even then, Erin. You have your whole life ahead of you. That life doesn’t include me.”

  It felt like stepping on an IED all over again, the shock to his system, the physical pain the bloomed across his body. The blinding reality that nothing would ever be the same.

  * * *

  Thank you so much for reading BEAUTY AND THE PROFESSOR.

  He can never turn back into a prince… A trouble revelation puts Blake’s newfound career in jeopardy—and even worse, puts Erin’s impending graduate at risk. He can’t risk her future no matter how much he wants her. Read FALLING FOR THE BEAST now!

  She will never have a happily ever after…

  A dark legacy threatens everything they’ve worked to build. When old debt comes between them, both Blake and Erin must fight to protect each other—and their love.

  Since their forbidden beginning, Erin and Blake’s relationship has been marked by deep sensuality and intense emotion. The couple is tested at every turn. They’re running out of time. Blake and Erin will have to trust each other to forge their own sexy ending.

  “Their story is not only very memorable and extremely sexy, but I could read this series many times over and never tire of it.”

  —Ms Romantic Reads

  ONE CLICK FALLING FOR THE BEAST >

  And don’t miss the brand new release!

  Forbidden fruit never tasted this sweet…

  “Swoon-worthy, forbidden, and sexy, Liam North is my new obsession.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Claire Contreras

  The world knows Samantha Brooks as the violin prodigy. She guards her secret truth—the desire she harbors for her guardian.

  Liam North got custody of her six years ago. She’s all grown up now, but he still treats her like a child. No matter how much he wants her.

  No matter how bad he aches for one taste.

  ONE CLICK OVERTURE NOW >

  “Overture is a beautiful composition of forbidden love and undeniable desire. Skye has crafted a gripping, sensual, and intense story that left me breathless. Get ready to be hooked!”

  —USA Today bestselling author Nikki Sloane

  Turn the page for an excerpt from OVERTURE…

  Excerpt from Overture

  Rest, Liam told me.

  He’s right about a lot of things. Maybe he’s right about this. I climb onto the cool pink sheets, hoping that a nap will suddenly make me content with this quiet little life.

  Even though I know it won’t.

  Besides, I’m too wired to actually sleep. The white lace coverlet is both delicate and comfy. It’s actually what I would have picked out for myself, except I didn’t pick it out. I’ve been incapable of picking anything, of choosing anything, of deciding anything as part of some deep-seated fear that I’ll be abandoned.

  The coverlet, like everything else in my life, simply appeared.

  And the person responsible for its appearance? Liam North.

  I climb under the blanket and stare at the ceiling. My body feels overly warm, but it still feels good to be tucked into the blankets. The blankets he picked out for me.

  It’s really so wrong to think of him in a sexual way. He’s my guardian, literally. Legally. And he has never done anything to make me think he sees me in a sexual way.

  This is it. This is the answer.

  I don’t need to go skinny dipping in the lake down the hill. Thinking about Liam North in a sexual way is my fast car. My parachute out of a plane.

  My eyes squeeze shut.

  That’s all it takes to see Liam’s stern expression, those fathomless green eyes and the glint of dark blond whiskers that are always there by late afternoon. And then there’s the way he touched me. My forehead, sure, but it’s more than he’s done before. That broad palm on my sensitive skin.

  My thighs press together. They want something between them, and I give them a pillow. Even the way I masturbate is small and timid, never making a sound, barely moving at all, but I can’t change it now. I can’t moan or throw back my head even for the sake of rebellion.

  But I can push my hips against the pillow, rocking my whole body as I imagine Liam doing more than touching my forehead. He would trail his hand down my cheek, my neck, my shoulder.

  Repressed. I’m so repressed it’s hard to imagine more than that.

  I make myself do it, make myself trail my hand down between my breasts, where it’s warm and velvety soft, where I imagine Liam would know exactly how to touch me.

  You’re so beautiful, he would say. Your breasts are perfect.

  Because Imaginary Liam wouldn’t care about big breasts. He would like them small and soft with pale nipples. That would be the absolute perfect pair of breasts for him.

  And he would probably do something obscene and rude. Like lick them.

  My hips press against the pillow, almost pushing it down to the mattress, rocking and rocking. There’s not anything sexy or graceful about what I’m doing. It’s pure instinct. Pure need.

  The beginning of a climax wraps itself around me. Claws sink into my skin. There’s almost certain death, and I’m fighting, fighting, fighting for it with the pillow clenched hard.

  “Oh fuck.”

  The words come soft enough someone else might not hear them. They’re more exhalation of breath, the consonants a faint break in the sound. I have excellent hearing. Ridiculous, crazy good hearing that had me tuning instruments before I could ride a bike.

  My eyes snap open, and there’s Liam, standing there, frozen. Those green eyes locked on mine. His body clenched tight only three feet away from me. He doesn’t come closer, but he doesn’t leave.

  Orgasm breaks me apart, and I cry out in surprise and denial and relief. “Liam.”

  It goes on and on, the terrible pleasure of it. The wrenching embarrassment of coming while looking into the eyes of the man who raised me for the past six years.

  Want more? Click here to read OVERTURE now!

  More Books by Skye Warren

  Endgame trilogy & Masterpiece Duet

  The Pawn

  The Knight

  The Castle

  The King

  The Queen

  Trust Fund Duet

  Survival of the Richest

  The Evolution of Man

  North Security series

  Overture

  Concerto

  Underground series

  Rough

  Hard

  Fierce

  Wild

  Dirty

  Secret

  Sweet

>   Deep

  Stripped series

  Tough Love

  Love the Way You Lie

  Better When It Hurts

  Even Better

  Pretty When You Cry

  Caught for Christmas

  Hold You Against Me

  To the Ends of the Earth

  Standalone Books

  Wanderlust

  On the Way Home

  Beauty and the Beast

  Anti Hero

  Escort

  About the Author

  Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary romance such as the Chicago Underground and Stripped series. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, two sweet dogs, and one evil cat.

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  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

  Beauty and the Professor © 2019 by Skye Warren

  Kobo Edition

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