His stomach twisted in disgust. Jesus, no, she wouldn’t let this dude in.
Indeed, Cohen dashed to her building. Jason waited outside, watching for some kind of clue. Her apartment window was dark, and if the light appeared, he would know….
He held his breath and clenched his teeth. Why was he torturing himself like this? Why was he stalking another guy to see if he scored?
As if a self-imposed punishment wasn’t enough, he was also going insane.
He moved to leave, but a loud creak stopped him. A door opened and closed, followed by footsteps crunching the snow and muffled curses. The guy left the building and hurried away.
A wave of relief swept Jason’s senses, and he smiled then immediately berated himself for rejoicing in such a stupid thing.
He couldn’t care, wouldn’t care.
Determined, he ran toward his building, three blocks south of the college campus, as fast as he could without slipping on the ice-covered paths and sidewalks. Twenty yards from his apartment, a painful possibility poked into his mind. What if Cohen hadn’t found her because she’d decided to take a detour instead, say, a bar or a club, or some other guy’s bedroom?
He slipped on the ice but caught his footing just before falling on his face.
Jesus. Why did he keep tormenting himself with such terrible thoughts?
“That was almost funny. Maybe if you’d fallen, it would’ve been.” Natasha’s voice came from the shadows.
After his heart recovered from the surprise and the near kiss with the sidewalk, he stepped closer and found her seated on a wooden bench in his building’s courtyard.
“Well, if you want, I can try it again,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll run and let it be. How about that?”
She smiled. “It would be funny, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He stared at her for a moment. Friends didn’t want friends getting hurt, right? That was the only reason, right? Right?
He sat beside her, leaving a great deal of space between them. “Jesus, this bench is freezing.”
She chuckled, but it wasn’t as wholehearted as her usual laugh. “Well, we’re outside, and it’s snowing. I guess it would be quite chilly.”
After a lengthy silence, he twisted toward her. “Why are you on this icy bench?” And why here?
“What took you so long?” she said instead.
“I asked first.”
Sighing, she glanced up at the cloudy night sky. “I’d hoped the cold would help clear my thoughts.”
“Did it?”
“Not sure. Didn’t have much time to analyze the results.”
Her intense eyes met his, and a shock-like jolt coursed through his body. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your analysis.”
“I guess I didn’t want to go home.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m sorry for being so rude at the party. I didn’t mean to.”
Hearing the desolate tone of her voice and seeing the regret in her eyes didn’t help his resolve to steer clear of her. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“Still, I did it, and I hate myself for that.”
On impulse, he reached over and covered her hand with his own. “It’s okay, really.”
Wide-eyed, she stared at him. Realizing what he had done, Jason pulled his arm back. Jesus, he could start acting like a responsible professor anytime.
“Hmm.” She stood up and tightened her coat around herself. “I should go. It’s late. Good night.”
With slow, careful steps, she walked away…from him.
“Hey,” Jason yelled from behind her.
Surprised, Natasha halted and waited for him to catch up with her. “I’ll walk you to your apartment. Like you said, it’s late and not safe to be out alone around campus.”
“You don’t need to.”
His eyes blazed, two blue, fiery stones. “I want to. Unless you’re planning on going somewhere else.”
Was it just her, or did his voice sound a little downcast?
“No, I’m going home,” she assured him, not completely convinced by the relieved expression that crossed his features.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, the tension around them palpable. What was going on? Oh, I don’t want to think about it. I can’t make sense of it. The only thing that mattered at the moment was being near him, feeling the warmth of his body close to hers.
Damn, this wasn’t a good way of picturing him. No, she couldn’t go there. She couldn’t. But damn, she so wanted to….
She caught him glancing at her. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, burying his hands inside his jacket pockets and averting his gaze.
What did he take her for? Stupid or blind? She wasn’t either. “So, why did you stay here for Christmas?”
He kicked a small mound of snow. “My parents decided to spend Christmas with my sister’s boyfriend and his family down in Florida, and I can’t stand him.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yeah. We hung out for a few months in high school. Travis was terrible. Always drunk and getting himself into bad situations. He didn’t change much as we grew up. He became more of a womanizer, bedding every skirt crossing his path. Once, during college, he even hit on my girlfriend.” He sighed. “Now, he says he’s a new man, and he loves and respects my sister. My parents believe him. I don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” She contained the urge to touch his arm and comfort him. “I hope he has changed for your sister’s sake.”
He stared at her, and she looked away, the heat taking over her cheeks a painful contrast to the cold of the night. Apparently, he didn’t care for his sister’s boyfriend because the guy had bedded all the women he possibly could when younger. Then, did it mean he didn’t like her either?
“You don’t show it, but I gotta know. Does my reputation bother you? I mean, you’ve been seen talking to me. Aren’t you afraid of what others will think?”
“It only bothers me when you’re not with me.” His tone was serious and steady, as if he measured each word carefully. “When you’re speaking to me, I don’t see the girl associated with the bad reputation.”
Girl….
He didn’t see her as a woman? But she was sure she’d caught a few glances over the past six months that indicated more than friendship. Or had she imagined those?
“Sorry, I don’t know why I mentioned anything. It’s not something I’m proud of,” she said as they turned the last corner before her building.
“If you’re not proud of it, why are you doing it, then?”
Cheeks burning, she hurried her steps.
He didn’t attempt to catch up with her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
She halted in front of the entrance to her building and faced him. “Thank you for accompanying me. The girl is safe now. You can go home and be relieved of your noble duties.” She didn’t know exactly why she was pained and angered, but she wanted to hurt Jason for it.
“Natasha, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Honestly, I don’t know why we do this.” She gestured between him and herself a couple of times. “I’m your student and a slut, not someone worth caring for or chatting with. You also have a reputation to maintain. A good one. You’re famous in the gaming world and a prestigious professor at the university. I can see….” The gleam that wasn’t a professor or a friend flared in his eyes. “There it is. Now I know what the shine means. As a man, you want me. Which is why you’ve endured me all these months, isn’t it? Even when you refer to me as a girl, you want me. What were you trying to do, find a perfect moment when there wasn’t anyone around to try and take off my clothes?” She spread her arms to her sides and gestured around them. “What better opportunity than this, right? You—”
“Natasha,” he muttered, his voice carrying a dangerous quality, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me what it is about.”
Instead
of answering, he shut his mouth, his jaw muscle twitching with tension. His silence told her everything she needed to know.
“I thought so.” Tears burning, she entered her building and dashed toward the stairs.
His lust had been there the whole time. How had she missed it before? No man had any reason to ever approach or look or speak to her, other than to take her to bed, pleasure themselves, and leave her. And she always ended up…alone.
Her foot landed on the first step, and she was yanked back by her wrist, falling right into Jason’s arms.
“I hate the control you have over me,” he whispered, his face close to hers, his arms wound tight around her, pressing her against him.
“But I—”
He laid his finger over her lips, silencing her. His intense gaze lowered from her eyes, and his hand slowly slid down, pulling her mouth apart. Her breath came in small hitches as his fingertips trailed down her chin, over her jaw, and along to her neck, where his warm palm spread over her skin, sending a shiver from her nape down her spine. He leaned even closer, his mouth inches from hers, his fingers entwining in her hair.
For this kind of game, the resistance match, she was a terrible player. Without being able to contain the bomb about to explode in her chest a second longer, she stood on tiptoes and closed the distance between them.
His lips parted and welcomed her instantly, smooth and hot and delicious, moving in sync with hers, slow and deep, exploring the new rich land, testing the boundaries.
She pulled back a little and teased him with her tongue, running it over his lips. He groaned and pushed her back, pressing her against the wall. His mouth took hers again, but the gentle part was forgotten. He kissed her with desire and power and hunger. His roughness almost hurt, weren’t it for desire igniting a bonfire within her, compelling her to match each of his coarse strokes with one of her own.
She wanted to explore his body, too. Reaching for the bottom of his sweater, she slid her hands underneath, her fingertips contouring the taut muscles over his abdomen and chest.
“Why do you hide under those giant T-shirts?” she asked, retreating a little. “You’re so damn fine.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he nibbled her ear. She moaned and pulled her legs up, locking them behind his back. Instantly, his hands clasped her butt, supporting her while he moved his hips, grinding into her. She moaned again, her mind foggy with so much craving as his hardness rubbed against her.
His mouth returned to hers, and she found herself drunk with his flavor. Drunk and addicted. She had never been kissed with so much esteem and desire before. The others had just wanted to score, which made kissing as superficial as it could get. But not Jason. He took his time, varying from slow to frantic. The more he pressed her against the wall and explored her body with his hands, the more his kisses deepened, and the more he groaned and moaned with pleasure.
She couldn’t contain herself much longer, and she needed to take a moment from the hallway if she wanted to keep going.
But whenever she tried to focus on getting out of there, the idea escaped her. He intoxicated her mind, and the yearning she felt for his body—for him—was indescribable.
Giggles and the sound of a door swinging came from the front of the building. Jason and Natasha jumped apart. They rushed up the stairs and hid on the second floor hallway, in the dark. Her heart pounded fast and hard against her chest, while he stood by her side, without touching. She hoped whoever was there stayed on the first floor or continued up to the third.
A student talking on a cell phone climbed up the stairs to the third or fourth floor. When the door of an apartment opened then closed above, she let out a breath.
“That was close,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“It was.” Jason stepped back. “It was also a good reminder.”
“What are you talk—?”
“I’m sorry, Natasha. I’m really sorry.” He ran down the stairs without another word.
Her stomach hurt as if she’d been punched. In the dark, she sat on the stairs and stared at the wall, too numb to assimilate what had happened. One second, everything had been perfect. The next second, everything had fallen apart. Only one simple but terrifying feeling crossed the thick fog in her mind.
She was alone.
Chapter Five
Jason tossed and turned, then tossed and turned some more. Whenever he tried to lie still, close his eyes, and will sleep to come, she invaded his mind. The softness of her curves, the sweet taste of her mouth, the heat of her body, which somehow spread through him even when he was alone in his bed, trying to forget her.
But how could he when the reality had been much better than all the forbidden dreams he had about her?
Giving up, he stomped to his kitchen, grabbed a Mountain Dew from the fridge, and entered his state-of-the-art gaming room. He had wasted many hours in this room, and time seemed to pass in only a few minutes. Surely, his games could help busy his brain so he could escape certain unwelcomed desires.
He turned on his PC, dropped into the leather armchair in the center, put on his headphones, and played. With a renewed vengeance, he killed dragons, slayed trolls, pulverized wraiths, collected golden rods, rescued Elfin damsels, found lost treasures, saved a burning village, and earned countless prizes. But after four hours playing, the memories of the previous night still crowded his head, especially in between quests.
Jesus Christ, he had to stop thinking of her. It wasn’t right for him to want her. He was her professor, and the university didn’t approve student-teacher relationships—which only added spice to the challenge.
Her reputation bothered him the most. What if all the rumors were true? What if she slept around all the time? Natasha never really talked about it, so he didn’t know what to believe. Did he want a woman with such a tainted past? What if she didn’t want to leave that life behind? What if she slept with him and dumped him the next morning? Even if she did leave that lifestyle, her reputation wouldn’t be easily forgotten, by him or the others.
Another thing bothering him since the night before was when she had mentioned not being proud of her reputation. Why, then, did she live that way?
The temptation was far too big now that he’d tasted her. He should leave. His only way out was to apply for a position within another university, or quit and work full-time on his games.
Using the joystick, he turned off the game and opened a Web browser. He searched for positions at universities with great gaming programs, but nothing really interested him.
On the lower left corner, his e-mail icon blinked. Opening it, he found a message from his sister.
Go to my Facebook and see the pictures from this morning.
He glanced at the clock and was alarmed to find it was already ten in the morning.
He logged onto Facebook and, browsing through his sister’s profile, found her photos. His parents, his sister, Travis and his parents, all together, raising champagnes flutes. The caption of the picture was “Merry Christmas, brother. We miss you!”
He smiled.
He scrolled down to the next image and a painful jolt shot through his heart. His sister accepting a ring from Travis. A diamond ring. The caption read “My Engagement.”
Jesus Christ, his baby sister was engaged to that punk!
He promptly closed her profile, not wanting to see the pictures anymore, and landed on his Facebook homepage, which showed all of his friends’ updates.
The one on top was a message from Fallon to Natasha. “Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday! Forever and always, be this hot woman, sweet girl, and caring friend. I miss you!”
Today was her birthday?
Without thinking, he opened her profile. There was nothing there. Nothing. No personal information. No birthday, no hometown, no about me, no family members, no history. There were only two photo albums. He clicked the one called Me.
The pictures were of her alone or with her roommate. Only a couple were from when she w
as younger, but the rest were recent.
In a kitchen, holding a wooden spoon and apparently singing into it while cooking and wearing an apron with a drawing of three drinks and the words “group therapy” written under them.
On one of the campus squares, lying on the green grass, smiling wide, her eyes matching the lawn’s vibrant color.
At the library, reading a thick, leather-bound book.
On her couch, drawing dresses on several pieces of paper on the coffee table.
Behind the curtains, preparing a model for the runaway.
With Fallon at a museum, imitating the saintly statue poses.
Always smiling. Always happy. Always relaxed. Always incredibly beautiful.
But never a photo of her friends, other than her roommate. Never a photo of her famous parties. Never a photo of her family.
The words Natasha had spoken about her mother last night rang in his mind.
The last thing I had from her.
She’d lost her mother and had never told him about it before. And where was the rest of her family? What was she hiding?
He clicked on the album called Inspiration. It contained several beautiful photos of couples, children, and landscapes with inspirational quotes.
A paintbrush over a sunset painting and the words: “Every artist was first an amateur.”
Two elderly men playing cards over a park stone table: “Life is like a game of cards. The hand that is dealt you represents determinism; the way you play it is free will.”
The silhouette of a couple holding hands before a lake at sunrise: “Most of the shadows of this life are caused by our standing in our own sunshine.”
A wooden container with chess pieces inside it: “After the game, the king and the pawn go into the same box.”
In the midst of the dozens of pictures, one caught his attention. A faint silhouette of a man, half of a laptop’s monitor seen from over his shoulder, an out-of-focus bookcase in front of him. It looked…familiar, somehow. The caption read: “Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.”
Her Heart's Secret Wish Page 3
