“No, no, don’t stop,” she sobbed. “I want you. Please, Conn!”
His right hand left her momentarily. The sound of his zipper was loud despite their frantic breathing.
So primed for him, the thought of him sliding home at last almost pushed her over the edge. However, he didn’t move behind her. He didn’t take her on top of his desk as she’d dreamed all these months. Despite her best efforts, he evidently still possessed enough control to torment her with what she couldn’t have. She threw her head back, a desperate wail threatening to tear from her throat, and he slid his fingers deep inside her.
“Say my name.”
She opened her mouth to comply, but every muscle suddenly locked down so fiercely that she nearly screamed. Jamming her right hand against her mouth to make sure she didn’t draw the dean and every police officer in town to knock down his door, she reached, blindly, with her other, hoping to at least touch him. It helped that he was curled over her, using his weight to trap her.
She grabbed hold of his erection like he was the only lifeline that could keep her from drowning.
With a harsh, low curse, he pumped in her hand and shuddered against her. The thought of him coming inside her threw her so far out to sea that she didn’t know if she’d ever make it back, but she managed to breathe out, “Conn.”
***
Conn had just failed the biggest exam of his entire life.
He crammed the evidence of his failure back into his jeans and pulled Rae into his arms. “Hold on, darlin’. I’ve got you. Can you hear me?”
She was limp, her face wet with tears, her breathing ragged and wracked with sobs. Dear God, had she tried to tell him to stop? How could she? After his little lesson in telling him no, did he honestly think she’d dare refuse him again?
Drunk on her sweetness, he’d used her attraction and inherent desire to please him as surely as any rope to bind her, and then he hadn’t given her any sort of safety net. She was the student in this as surely as she’d sat in his poetry class, and he’d abused her trust. He’d punished her without ever explaining the rules, or making sure she understood the game they played. And then like a fucking bastard, he’d compounded his crime by losing the last bit of control and coming like a pimple-faced jerk.
As a dominant, he’d done the unthinkable: he’d lost control of himself.
Curling into a tight little ball, she started to shake.
He held her tighter. “I’m sorry, darlin’, so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken you so far, certainly not on our first… hell, I can’t even call this a date. It was wrong of me to ask this of you before we ever talked about it. I’ve built up too many fantasies about you here in my office, and once you let me start, I didn’t want to stop.”
She tucked her face against his neck, but at least she didn’t run wailing for the dean’s office. “I didn’t ask you to stop.”
That didn’t make him feel any better. “Could you have told me no, Rae? Honestly?” Her silence made his heart thud painfully in his chest. “That’s what I thought.”
He cupped her cheek tenderly and turned her face up to his, wiping her tears away. “This was my fault, Rae. It won’t happen again until we’ve had a chance to talk long and hard about what you’re comfortable with. I swear it, darlin’.”
Someone knocked on the door and they both froze. “Dr. Connagher?”
He stared down into Rae’s pale face, her eyes great dark pools of reproach. All it’d take from her was one cried-out plea to the dean waiting outside his door, and he’d be done teaching. Forever. After what he’d done to this precious student who’d trusted him enough to take the first step toward surrender, he deserved to be fired.
No. I deserve to rot in hell.
“Come down to my office in the next ten minutes and you can have your student’s paper and final exam,” Dean Strobel said. “Look them over this weekend and we’ll touch base on Monday.”
My student. Rae, forgive me.
“Sure thing, dean,” he forced out. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Rae slid off his lap. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself. She tried to laugh, but it came out closer to a quiet sob that sliced and diced his heart to ribbons. “It’s a good thing she didn’t ask to come in. I’ll sneak out while you’re in her office.”
“No,” he ground out, guilt strangling him. She couldn’t even meet his gaze. “I don’t want you sneaking anywhere.”
She cringed at the roughness in his voice and he thought he would expire on the spot. He couldn’t bear to see her fear. Not like this.
“Stay here, darlin’, while I change and take care of the dean. If my door is closed, no one will bother you. Then we’ll go somewhere and talk, just you and me, Rae, man and woman, not professor and student. I won’t even think about kinky shit until we talk through what just happened and I make sure you’re okay with it.”
He eased her down into his chair. She was still shivering, so he grabbed the spare jacket he kept on the back of his door and wrapped her in it. Looking at her so small, huddled and shivering, made him want to put his head through a brick wall. Every instinct told him to sweep her up into his arms and carry her away from here. Once they were alone, he could make her feel safe again.
He’d lay it all on the line for her.
How much I love her. How much I need her.
“I’m okay,” she whispered against her drawn-up knees. “You need to go. I understand.”
Still, he lingered, even knowing that he only had a few minutes to wash up before going to the dean’s office. “I don’t want to leave you, not like this.” He suddenly thought of the Robert Burns poem she’d quoted earlier, and a worse line came to mind. “‘To spare thee now is past my pow’r,/ Thou boniegem.’5 Forgive me, Rae. I’ll fix this, no matter what you need. Just wait for me, okay?”
“In this evil hour, crush my slender stem.6” A ghost of a smile flickered on her lips, but her eyes still struck his heart with guilt. “I’m no mountain daisy, Dr. Connagher.”
“To see you was to love you.”7 He cupped her face in both hands and lightly brushed his mouth against hers. Not a kiss, exactly, for he feared pushing himself on her too quickly again. Instead, he tried to tell her with his gentleness how much he treasured her. How hard he would work to regain her trust. “I’ll hasten back to you as soon as the dean is finished with me, but I refuse to say farewell. Wait for me, Rae.”
Later, he’d regret that he hadn’t made her give her word.
Chapter Five
Dear Dr. Connagher:
When you first left, I thought I was okay. Wrapped in your coat and your scent, hidden away in your office, I could almost believe everything would be still be fine. Without you there, I started to think. For myself. I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t stop shaking. I just had to get out of there.
I rushed back to my dorm, stood in the bathroom with the door locked, and stared at my ass. I could still see your handprints in my flesh, red and angry like a fresh brand.
What have you done to me? Who is this person bawling my eyes out at the thought of losing you, despite the bruises I’ll surely have tomorrow? The exact same person who begged you not to stop.
Standing there looking at your handiwork, I knew you were right. I would beg you to do it again, if that’s the only way I can have you.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Because I’m standing here, checking my ass again in the mirror, and I still want you. I don’t regret letting you spank me. No, my biggest regret is that I couldn’t shake your control enough to get you inside me.
I’m scared, Conn, of me, not you. How far would I let you go? Will I let you abuse me, hurt me, break me, simply to be with you?
I need to clear my head. I need to remember who I am. So I’m going home this weekend, and honestly, right now, I don’t know that I can come back to campus. I don’t know that I can bear to come back to you in a week, because deep down, I know the
truth.
I’ll never be able to tell you no again.
If I were brave enough to stop by your office before leaving town, I’d slide my “extra credit”poem beneath your door. I couldn’t write it before your final finalexam. It’s not iambic pentameter. Hell, it doesn’t even rhyme. But it says it all, doesn’t it? So I won’t sign like I have been, because you already know the truth.
~ Rae
Yours
Wild hearts can’t be broken.
Wild horses can’t be tamed.
But I never was wild
-- except for you --
and my heart is hand-blown glass.
You never promised to love me.
You never promised to save me.
You held my heart
-- in the palm of your hand –
and squeezed.
I’m so sorry if I cut you.
I’m so sorry if I made you bleed.
When you held me
-- I was already broken –
and only shards remain.
Continue reading about Conn and Rae’s journey in Dear Sir, I’m Yours.
The poetry quoted in this novella:
1 “Ozymandias,” by Percy Bysshe Shelley
2 “One Word is Too Often Profaned,” by Percy Bysshe Shelley
3 “One Word is Too Often Profaned,” by Percy Bysshe Shelley
4 “Ae Fond Kiss,” by Robert Burns
5 “To a Mountain Daisy,” by Robert Burns
6 “To a Mountain Daisy,” by Robert Burns: “Thou’s met me in an evil hour,/ For I maun crush amang the stoure/ Thy slender stem:”
7 “Ae Fond Kiss,” by Robert Burns: “But to see her was to love her,/ Love but her, and love for ever.”
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Dear Sir, I’m Yours Excerpt
By Joely Sue Burkhart
With the flashlight gripped in her fist, Rae pushed her shoulders through the crawlspace beneath Miss Belle’s back porch. Colonel Healy had designed the addition in honor of their daughter’s birth nearly sixty years ago. Rae cast the light up at the floor boards. Nice solid heavy beams. They didn’t build houses like this anymore. She checked the closest footing, digging dirt away from the concrete.
“The porch and addition are in good shape, Miss Belle. Let me check the foundation real quick, but I don’t think you’ve got any problems outside the house. It’s good, real good.”
“Aren’t you afraid of spiders?” Miss Belle demanded. “It’s not natural for a young lady to be crawling around in dark spaces like that. Who knows what kind of creepy-crawlies are in there.”
In Rae’s experience, the creepy-crawlies weren’t bugs under a porch at all but real live people. “I’m fine, Miss Belle.”
She wiggled her shoulders deeper beneath the house to get a better look. The dirt was dry but rich, good smelling, not dank with mold or slime. Good stuff. But it was the foundation of the original structure that she most wanted to see.
She cast the light over the tight stones. This old plantation house put brand new tract homes to shame. “Looks good, Miss Belle. I don’t think you’ll have any leaking problems into your basement for years yet. I—”
“Why didn’t you call me?” A male voice interrupted. “I want to meet your contractor before you sign anything.”
Rae’s heart slammed against her ribs. Every feminine instinct screamed a warning. She froze, glad she was mostly under the porch. Except for her lower body. Shit, shit, shit. On her knees, ass in the air, dirt in her hair… And that voice…
Oh, God. Not him, please. Anybody but him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Verrill. I can take care of myself.”
Relief washed over her and she let her forehead rest against her forearm a minute. She didn’t know any Verrill. Deep breaths, calm—she had no reason to be worried, let alone hopeful, excited, terrified…
“If you call me that, then I get to call you Grandma.”
“Oh, Conn,” Miss Belle growled out a laugh. Rae heard the slap on his arm. “I want you to meet someone.”
Conn.
She couldn’t breathe. Five years might have passed, but he still possessed the ability to reduce her to a twenty-one-year-old English student again, drooling over her sexy professor. Betrayal choked her. The old lady had set her up. Had he been in on the joke? Furious tears burned her eyes.
Maybe the fantastic old house would suddenly break apart and bury her in rubble. She’d rather die than face him again.
He gave a low whistle. “Hello, gorgeous.”
Her brain skittered with panic, her sudden intake of breath echoing beneath the porch. Great, just great. He was staring at her ass. Heat flared beneath her jeans as if he’d smacked her. Again.
Maybe he won’t remember me.
Her heart clenched in agony.
“The Fix-It Lady has accepted my offer. Rae Lynn, come on out and meet my grandson.”
Wait a minute, meet? So maybe Miss Belle didn’t know the whole sordid truth.
“Rae?”
The sudden intensity of his voice rocked her with panic. She scrambled deeper beneath the porch. He caught her foot, his powerful hands shackling her leg. She kicked back with her other foot, catching him solidly with her boot. Hopefully in the head.
He grunted but didn’t let go. Weight trapped her lower body, his arms snaking around her legs, hauling her back. She grabbed at the footing, missed, dug in the soft soil for a root, anything to slow him.
Miss Belle shrieked. If she’d carried a parasol, the old lady would be beating him over the head with it. “What are you doing? Let go of her this minute, Verrill Connagher! Don’t you know how to treat a lady?”
Grappled inch by inch backwards into the open, Rae wanted to die.
He flipped her over, his hands locked on her waist. One more tug and—
“Rae!”
Blinded by the afternoon sun, she swung her fist at his head, grateful she couldn’t see. She didn’t want to see the face she’d daydreamed about all these years. Those incredible baby blues, changing with his mood from steel gray to brilliant sapphire. One look from those eyes and she’d be lost all over again.
Her heart pounded, her skull split open, her mouth dried like an old bone. She bucked and fought, trying to kick him again.
Don’t touch him. Don’t melt into his arms and burst into tears and wail that I wish—
Pinning her hands on either side of her head, he leaned down over her to block the sun. She squeezed her eyes shut and averted her face. She strained in vain, knowing he was too strong, always too strong, as strong as she remembered.
“Stop it,” he said gruffly, his voice tight. Anger? Or pain? Had he missed her? Why did the weight of his body against hers have to feel so damned good? “Are you hurt?”
She laughed, wincing at the ragged edge of pain and regret in her voice. “Get off me, Dr. Connagher.”
“I take it you two know each other?” Miss Belle sniffed loudly. “Honestly, Verrill, do as she says and get up. You can’t scare her off with your intimidation tactics—she’s the best contractor around!”
“Look at me,” he whispered fiercely, lowering his face within inches of hers. Steel-clad velvet, his voice reached into her chest and tugged on her heart.
His panting breath was hot and moist on her cheek, the leathered musk of his cologne achingly familiar. The heat of his body burned into hers, driving her into the ground, and she felt her muscles softening. She arched against him helplessly, but not to escape. Not this time.
So weak, so miserably weak. She braced herself to bear the intensity of his gaze, the force of his will. I can tell him no. I’ve learned that much in five years. Haven’
t I?
Slowly, she turned her head and opened her eyes.
All hard angles and shadows, his face had aged, lined and worn but better for that aging. Like fine whiskey and Sean Connery, he merely got better, more distinctive and impressive over the years. His Oxford white shirt had a dirty boot print over his heart. Ironic, that.
Staring into his eyes, she felt her throat constrict with tears, her eyes filling. No, no, she wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.
The chips of ice glittering in his eyes thawed at whatever he saw in her gaze, but he held her pinned beneath him. “Don’t run out on me again.”
She nodded jerkily. He knew she wouldn’t refuse him. She couldn’t. That’s why she’d run the first time. Evidently she hadn’t learned a damned thing.
Immediately, he climbed to his feet and offered her a hand up. Belying the burning fierceness of his gaze, he said lightly, “Rae was a student of mine five years ago.”
“Oh!” Miss Belle clapped her hands, grinning ear to ear. “So you’re the one he spoke of so often. Fabulous. What a coincidence. I hope he gave you an A, Rae Lynn.”
Heat seared her face. Oh, he gave her an A all right.
Talking about coincidence… Suspicious, she glared at the innocent little old lady.
With a breezy smile, Miss Belle flounced back toward the rear of the house. “I’ll see you for dinner, dear.”
“Oh no you won’t,” Rae retorted, her stomach twisting into knots. “I’m not coming back.” Not if he’s here.
Turning slowly to look over her shoulder, Miss Belle arched a brow at her beneath the broad brim of her big straw hat. That look would have scared General Sherman away from Atlanta. “You gave your word, Rae Lynn. You accepted my offer, signed our contract, and I don’t tolerate fools or liars. Besides, remember your slogan.”
Letters to an English Professor (The Connaghers Book 0) Page 5
