They smile and take their leave, stopping to say goodbye to a few more people on their way out. I wait a safe amount of time for them to leave and head home, shaken. There’s an opportunity here, waiting for me, because another professor screwed up. The similarities are not lost on me. For all I know, Professor Gage was in love with his teaching assistant. She wasn’t even a student, though he would’ve been her boss.
I should rethink this whole thing with Connor. If he really cares about me, he’ll wait for me, right?
I text Con while I wait for the subway. Cocktail reception finished early. On my way to your place. We made plans to see a band I like perform later tonight, but this is better because now we have time for a serious talk. I really don’t want to do this, but I feel like I have to. My throat clogs with emotion, and I blink back tears. He’ll understand. And, if he doesn’t, then this is goodbye.
Connor
The moment I open the door to Becca, I know something’s wrong. She looks like she’s trying not to cry, her eyes shiny, her face drawn. I pull her in and wrap my arms around her. She stands there stiffly for a moment, her arms at her sides. Then, finally, she hugs me back, holding me tight, her head buried against my chest. She had her faculty reception tonight, and I know she wanted to make a good impression.
“What happened?” I ask.
She lifts her head, her eyes watery. “The dean says there’s a full-time opening in my department, which is good, but the reason is because a professor was fired for getting his teaching assistant pregnant. It’s just like us.” Her voice cracks.
My gut tightens as the first inkling of dread creeps through me. “No,” I say firmly. “That is not like us. I don’t work for you, and you’re not getting pregnant.”
She presses her lips tightly together. “It’s the same thing in theory. You should’ve seen Dean Sears and his wife, the way they talked about Professor Gage like he was total scum. They said he’ll never work at a university again.”
Bile rises in my throat. I know exactly where this is going—she wants to end this thing between us. Everything in me rebels. I force down the awful feeling and focus on the important thing—us.
I frame her face in my hands, meeting her eyes directly. “Listen, that professor and his teaching assistant, that is not us. And you are not getting fired because of me. I would never let that happen. Bec, I care about you. A lot.”
She swallows visibly, her voice high and reedy. “Would you wait until the end of the semester to see me?”
“No.”
Her lower lip quivers. “You said you cared about me.”
“I do, I swear. So much. Bec, don’t ask this of me. I can’t not see you, and what would be the point anyway? You’ll still see me in your class. Are you going to stand up there and pretend you don’t know me? Pretend you have no feeling for me at all?”
She pulls away. “That’s what I’ve been doing so far.”
“Then there’s no difference if we keep seeing each other.”
Her voice is soft, resigned. “The difference is I don’t risk my career.”
I shove a hand in my hair. I don’t want to lose her, but I don’t want to keep away for the next almost three months either. It’ll be torture.
I take her hand and guide her over to the sofa. She sits, clutching her hands tightly together and staring at them.
I suck in air, my chest tight. I need to get the words just right, need to convince her we’re worth the risk. “I don’t want to lose you because of something someone else did. We didn’t do anything wrong, and I promise you this is not a casual thing for me.”
She meets my eyes, her lips smashed together, tears threatening.
Shit. I’m losing her. “Tonight I was going to ask you to go to my brother’s engagement party in two weeks. I want to introduce you to my family. That’s how much you mean to me.” It’s true. I was going to ask her that before my whole world tilted and threatened to throw me out on my ass.
“Really?” she asks in a choked voice. “You’re not just saying that because I’m upset?”
I pull her into my lap, holding her close. “Yes, I really was going to ask you. I’m not losing you, Bec. I feel like I waited my whole life to find you.”
“Okay,” she says, nodding at the same time. “I’ll go. I don’t want to say goodbye to you either. I just felt like I had to, you know?”
I cup her soft cheek, stroking it with my thumb. “I know. But we’re not wrecking us because of what other people might think.” I kiss her. “Everything will be okay, I promise.”
She rests her cheek against my chest and sighs. For the first time all night I feel like I can breathe again.
Nothing can come between us. I won’t let it.
14
Connor
It’s been two weeks since I invited Becca to Sean and Josie’s engagement party, and things have been great between us. Okay, there was one dicey moment last week when we met up in the lobby after our Saturday class and Dean Sears sent us a curious look. But I convinced Becca it’s okay for professors and students to talk in an academic building. Even twice. She immediately struck up another conversation with a woman from our class who had just come downstairs on her way out. Practically accosted the poor woman in her effort to look like she spent time talking to all her students. I calmed Becca down later that night. Ahem.
Anyway, tonight’s the night she meets my family. We’re heading to my parents’ house in the Windsor Terrace neighborhood of Brooklyn.
Becca meets me in the lobby of her building, looking stunning in a sleeveless blue dress with tan heels.
I smile, taking her in appreciatively. “You look beautiful.”
She frowns. “Oh no. Look at us. We match.”
I’m wearing my blue button-down shirt with tan trousers. “Only a little. You’re wearing a brighter blue.”
“I have to change.” She turns and heads for the elevator.
Good thing I got here a little early. I figured it would be good to get to my parents’ house before the party was in full swing. It’s not easy for a newcomer to step into the chaos of a Rourke party, and Becca’s on the shy side.
I follow her into the elevator. She punches the button and crosses her arms tightly, watching the numbers go up.
“You okay?” I ask after a long silence.
Her gaze remains riveted on the numbers. “Fine. I just need to find a good first-impression outfit. It took me a while to settle on this one, but it’s okay. I’m sure I have something.”
“I could go home and change.”
Her head whips toward mine. “Don’t be silly. I’m not sending you all the way home.”
“It’s three blocks away.”
“It’s fine, Connor. I can fix the problem.”
Damn, she’s wound tight. She never calls me Connor, always Con in this warm tone. I pull her arms away from her body and wrap them around my middle. She rests her cheek against my chest for a few moments, but then the elevator dings and she jerks away, rushing toward her apartment.
I follow her straight to her bedroom, which looks like a disaster area of discarded clothes and shoes. I had no idea she had this many clothes.
“I need contrasting colors from you,” she says. “Maybe pants outfits are the way to go. I’ve got some business casual things in my armoire.”
She goes to a large light wood wardrobe with double doors and flings it open. This is a separate stash of clothes from her closet. There’s also a long dresser. I never paid much attention to her wardrobe before other than noticing it mostly looked corporate.
She goes through clothes at manic speed, tossing pants outfits on the bed one after the other. I’m not sure if that means she’s going to try these on or they’re out of the running. She pulls out a black turtleneck with black trousers and puts that back in the armoire. Shit. This could take a while. It looks like the bed stuff is to try on.
I walk around to sit on the side of the bed closest to her, shoving her pi
llow out of the way. “The black outfit would look sexy on you,” I say. “Put that one on.”
She freezes, staring at me for a moment. “Black. I should wear my little black dress. It goes with every occasion.” A few minutes later, she’s wearing the sexy dress I remember from Simone’s party.
“Perfect,” I say, standing. Finally we can get going.
She smooths the dress as she looks down at herself. “I don’t know. I think it might be too formal. More of a cocktail party dress, not an engagement party dress at someone’s home.”
“I’m sure there will be cocktails. At least champagne and beer.”
She peels the dress off and tosses it, going back to the closet. Oh, I am liking this rear view. She’s in a strapless tan lace bra with matching panties, her long legs enticing me to touch. I have to at least wait until she’s picked something to wear. While she’s half buried in the closet, I slip a condom from her nightstand into my pocket. No better way to deal with her nerves, I figure. So maybe we’re a little late. What’s worse—showing up late into chaos or being the chaos? I’ve got to mellow her out. It’s what any good boyfriend would do.
She pulls out a green dress and a dark red dress, holding each of them up to me in question.
“Definitely the dark red,” I say, liking the stretchy clingy material.
“It’s burgundy.” She holds it under her chin. “Boat neck, three-quarter sleeves, good for fall. But does it wash out my coloring too much?”
I don’t even know what that means, but it’s clear I need to take matters into my own hands. Like right away. I cross to her and take the dress, unzipping the back and kneeling at her feet for her to step into it. While she’s considering complying, I stroke my palm from her ankle up the inside of her thigh to just shy of those sexy panties. Her lips part and she steps into the dress.
I rise and slowly pull the dress up over her hips, letting my fingers trail along her skin as I do. She warms to my touch, her breath a little faster. I love watching my effect on her. I pull it all the way on, helping her into it as I touch her the whole time. It looks great. The fabric is soft, stretchy, and formfitting, which makes it easier to caress her through the dress. Her eyes go half-mast as I stroke from her long neck across her exposed collarbone over her shoulders and down her arms. I take my time caressing her breasts and then slide lower, down her stomach, coming close but never touching her sex.
“Con,” she whispers.
I know I’ve made great progress when she calls me Con instead of Connor. Oh, yeah, I’ve got the magic touch. Looks like it’s full steam ahead to orgasm town. But then she goes on.
“Is this dress really okay?”
I can’t believe she’s still worried about her outfit after all my caressing. What’s more important here? I shift her over to the dresser to show her how fantastic she looks. There’s a mirror hanging above it.
“Look. It’s more than okay, it’s sexy.” I slowly pull the back zipper up, trailing my fingers along her spine. She shivers, and I give the nape of her neck a squeeze. “It’s stretchy too. Down you go, babe.” The nickname always gets a rise out of her.
“I don’t think—” she starts and then quiets as I press between her shoulder blades, pushing her down over the dresser while I hitch up her dress, past her waist. I hear her sharp intake of breath as she realizes my intentions. I slide a hand between her legs, and her panties are damp. My cock surges painfully against my trousers. I get her panties off, free myself, and roll on the condom in record time. I thrust deep, and she moans.
I pull her up enough to see us in the mirror, buried deep inside her, and cup her breast with one hand. “Look how sexy you are in this dress.”
“Con,” she half begs.
I know exactly what she needs. I stroke her between the legs as I thrust deep over and over. She loves this. I love this.
“Con, Con, Con,” she chants, and I know she’s close.
“Let go,” I growl in her ear, holding her firmly as I stroke faster. She makes the sexiest, neediest sounds, and then she goes off, taking me with her in a white-hot explosion of pleasure.
Unbelievably good. Every fucking time.
She’s mine. We work on every level. I’m so glad I found her.
I kiss her cheek. “Wonderful woman.” I feel her cheek curve into a smile. She called me “wonderful man” in extremely reverent tones after some of our earliest times together.
I slowly loosen my hold on her, and she sinks to the dresser limply. That relaxed her. Certainly relaxed me. I pull out and then decide I’d better get her situated. I pull those panties back up, giving her another stroke, which makes her moan, and then adjust her dress, caressing her through the fabric from her sweet ass to the nape of her neck. I give her ass a pat and she sighs. My Becca. Wound so tight over her outfit only to be undone by her own dress. And me.
After I get myself back in order, I find her staring at herself in the mirror. “Orgasms really are the best beauty treatment,” she says in wonder. “Look how my skin glows now. There’s no way I can wash out in this burgundy color.”
I grin and wrap my arms around her from behind. “I’ll have to become part of your beauty routine, then.”
“It’s an ongoing daily battle,” she says, her eyes sparkling.
I nuzzle into her neck. “Is that your way of asking for daily orgasms?”
“Yes.”
I meet her eyes in the mirror. “You’ll have to see me daily too.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
I nip her neck and she laughs. Warmth floods my chest in a surge of affection. I turn her to face me. “Do you know what today is?”
She nods. “The day I meet your family. Oh God, we’d better get going. I need to freshen up.” She ducks under my arm and rushes to the bathroom.
I was going to say today is our one-month anniversary. It’s sappy, I know, but I’m in deep. We both are. I just hope tonight goes smoothly. I’d never tell her this, but her meeting my parents is a pretty big deal. My family is tight, and there’s no way I could get serious about someone my parents didn’t accept. My family is a little different on account of us being the exiled royals. Since my dad lost his other family, he made ours a priority and drummed it into us—family first. Now that we’re all grown, he makes sure we get together for any and all occasions. And we all work together too. Even my dad, working in real estate, is still part of Byrne Construction, always keeping an eye out for promising properties and helping us find tenants. I mean, my parents are pretty open, friendly people, but there was that time my older brother Sean brought a woman home that my parents considered “crass.” He ended it the next day. Just wasn’t worth continuing when she would be a source of friction in the family. I understood.
Becca’s different, though. Classy. And I got her nice and relaxed. I’m sure she’ll be just fine.
Becca
I’m sure Con’s parents will take one look at me and think hot mess. I walk on shaky legs down the sidewalk toward their house. I can’t believe I had sex with Con before meeting them. So freaking inappropriate. The man undoes me. It’s like my common sense just flies out the window around him. Before he showed up at my place, I spent two hours flitting like a hummingbird around my room as I attempted to get ready, nerves jangling, heart racing. I mean, I’m about to meet royalty—the king, his chosen queen, and a troop of princes! And I know how much Con’s family means to him, how close they all are, working and playing together. This is a test and, if I don’t pass, I wouldn’t blame him for dropping me. I’d have to do the same if my parents didn’t accept him, which is why I’m still terrified my parents will find out Con is my student. The people you get serious about have to fit in your life.
I try for a deep breath as we head toward the brick rowhouse where Con grew up. All my nice relaxed feeling from Con’s earlier sexy efforts has vanished, though I fear I’m still sporting a giveaway orgasmic glow on my face. It’s only been half an hour, but alrea
dy I’m practically vibrating with tension.
I care too much about making a good impression. Con means a lot to me, and the fact that he brought me here means even more. When I even just think about him, my stomach flutters and I find myself smiling for no reason at all. Why couldn’t I have met him after my class? Of course, then I would’ve first met him in class. Would he have approached me and asked me out? Mike did. I would’ve had to turn him down just like Mike. But then maybe it would’ve worked out after class. Stop. I’m way overthinking a hypothetical. The fact is, I’m in deep in a secret relationship that could very well blow up my entire life, and all I care about is that his family likes me. Like I said, no common sense around him. I should be more focused on protecting myself. But that time when I tried putting some space between us after the faculty reception, I was near tears at the thought of losing him.
I love him.
I’ve been afraid to say it out loud. Like it’ll put too much pressure on an already delicate situation. He hasn’t said it either.
Oh, God, we’re here.
He gives my clammy hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry. You’ve already met Brendan and Beast. It’s just a few more people added on.”
I look up at him. “You said you’re the angel of the group, and I don’t find you that angelic. More like a dark angel.” I’m teasing, though my voice is tight with nerves. Also, I’m stalling.
He grins. “My parents made silly nicknames for us when we were kids. They called Brendan a little devil, and he’s not so bad, right?”
Brendan teases, but he seems playful about it. I’m trying to picture walking into a party with five guys like that, probably teasing Con about me. I’m not sure I can keep cool. I’ll be flustered or embarrassed or defensive. I never had big brothers around teasing me before.
“Bec?”
“I guess.”
He presses the bell, and my heart pounds. “My parents will just be thrilled I’m seeing someone. Ever since my sister-in-law got pregnant, they’ve been really gung ho on getting started on the grandparent phase of their life.”
Rogue Angel (The Rourkes, Book 10) Page 14
