“I asked Nik to marry me during spring break our senior year. We got married right before graduation..”
Avery flinches, her face paling so fast she sways. “You’re married?”
“Let me finish,” I say, reaching across the table and catching her hand in mine. It’s shaking, a violent tremble that worries me. “Nik was happy at Duke. She always wanted to get out of Branton. And the important thing was we were together—she had the big city life and her down home boy. But after a while, with no parties, and no friends, and a job she despised, she got bored. She even got bored with me. She asked, a few times for a change in things. Open relationship, bringing someone into our bed. She came on to Dane, when he visited us one summer. But I just excused it as her being a kid. Christ, we were both kids. That was the problem.”
The waitress interrupts us and puts two steaming plates of creole on the table next to crispy fried pickles. I push it away—I’m too nervous to eat, and I’m ready to be done. I want her to know everything, so she can walk or not. Fuck this limbo shit.
“We came home after I finished grad school. I got a job at UB, and we bought a nice little house. I thought it would settle Nik down—being home would help her remember that we were happy. And I thought we were fine. Until I came home in February and caught her in bed with two frat boys.”
Her gaze snaps up from where she’d been staring at the table, her eyes wide and surprised.
“I left the same day. Sorta went off the rails, drank too much and let my research fall apart. I didn’t know what to do with myself, without Nik. Didn’t know how to be.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, quietly.
“Embarrassed, I guess. I’m twenty-eight with an ex-wife.” I sigh and release her hand. “But Dane is right—you’re different from anyone I’ve ever been with. And I want you to be different. Which means I can’t lie—or withhold the past.”
“Do you still love her?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t think I have for a long time. I loved the girl I knew in high school. But we aren’t those people anymore—we haven’t been for a while. And loving an idea isn’t enough.”
“You saw her on Friday.”
There is a hint of accusation in her words, and I nod. “Nik isn’t…happy. There’s a lot of resentment on both parts, and I was just trying to get some closure.”
It’s not the strict truth. I know it, but it’s all I’m willing to give her right now.”
Avery stands abruptly. “I need to think. It’s…I just need a little space.”
I nod and hand her the key to the suite. “Take all the time you need.”
Avery
I half stumble out of the restaurant. Atticus’ words play in my head, mixing with another conversation.
We aren’t the same anymore.
I snatch my phone from my purse and call Jeff.
“Hey, honey. How is New Orleans?”
“He was married,” I blurt out, and Jeff goes very quiet. “He married his high school sweetheart.”
“Oh, Avery.”
I sniffle, feeling tears burning in my eyes. “She cheated on him. You know what he said when I asked if he still loved her? ‘We aren’t the same anymore.’”
“Shit.” I hear glasses rattle then, “Avery, he isn’t Josh. I get that you’re scared. I understand why. But you can’t live afraid.”
“You’ve been against this since I met Atti. Why change that now?”
“Because you deserve to be happy. And if he’s what it takes to keep that smile on your face, then so be it. And because he isn’t Josh. He’s been hurt too, Avery.”
“And that makes you trust him?”
“Yes,” he answers simply.
“What should I do?” I ask, wiping away the tears that broke free.
“Sugar, that is all on you. What do you want to do?”
I stand in the bathroom of the suite.
Two hours of wandering the city, and I still don't know what to do.
I want him. Of all the things I don't know, this is the one thing I'm very sure of. I want his lips on me, I want the drugging high of knowing he wants me.
Fuck this.
I pull my pony tail out, letting my hair cascade around my face and shoulders. Then I lock the room and go down to the second floor.
My heart pounds a mile a minute, so fast I'm dizzy as I knock on his door.
He opens the door, and we stare at each other for a few silent seconds, a look of relief sliding across his face before it’s gone. "You didn't answer your phone," he says. "I was worried."
"I needed to think."
A couple walks past, and I step closer to the doorway—to him—in the narrow hallway. "You surprised me. I needed a minute to wrap my head around it."
Wordlessly, he pulls me into the room and his arms. I nestle against his chest, the steel bands of his arms holding me to him as he kicks the door shut. "What can I do, Avery? What do you want?"
It isn't the first time he's asked. But it's the first time I answer honestly. "I want this."
He pulls back, his eyes dark and hungry. His hand comes up to cradle my jaw, thumb running over my lips.
"You remember what I said, right?"
I remember all of it. He smiles, hungry and promising. He pushes me against the door, his arms on either side of me. I can feel the length of his body pressing into me, the push of his erection against my belly.
"If I kiss you—I won't stop."
I smile at him, tilt my chin up and ask, "Did I ask you to?"
His lips are on mine before I finish the question. There is no gentleness. No hesitation or silent requests for permission. He takes my face in his hands, angles me slightly and kisses me like he's starving. He nibbles at my lower lip, drawing it into his mouth and sucking softly. I gasp, shifting against him, and he growls, biting lightly at my lip before releasing it. He licks into my mouth with quick little flicks, each one a little longer than the last, as if once he's tasted me, he can't resist.
It's the most erotic kiss I've ever had.
Atticus
I can't really believe I'm kissing her. I knew—we both did—that this was a likely outcome of this trip. But after telling her about Nik, I dismissed it.
Except, she's here. She’s the soft warmth between me and the wall; her little fingers are twisted in my hair, and she's making small, sexy noises that are driving me crazy. Her tongue twists around mine, and she bites down lightly. I groan against her lips, and she smirks.
I lift her up and her legs come around my waist, the skirt of her sundress bunching up. I twist and carry her the three steps it takes to get to the bed. Avery kneels on the bed and I step back.
Too fast. It's going too fast and I want—need—to savor this. Her.
Avery pulls that damn dress over her head.
She's wearing a green lace bra and matching panties and holy God, she is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Lie down," I say, my voice rough. Her eyes widen at the hint of command in my tone, but she scoots back and lies down. One knee is slightly bent and out, and I can see how wet she is.
It's taking everything in me to not strip off my clothes and drive into her. There will be time for that—for fucking hard and fast—but right now, I want to taste her.
"Hold on to the bed." Avery hesitates, so I grab her hands, lift them above her head and close them over the wrought iron headboard. I lean down and kiss her quickly, then murmur against her lips, "Don't let go."
She inhales sharply, and I smirk. I slip off the bed. I can feel her watching me, and she licks her lips. I grin at her as I pull my shirt up and over my head. "You keep lookin' at me like that, baby."
"Like what?" she asks, fingers flexing as my thumbs slip under my shorts, easing them down my hips. Stripping for her is a bigger turn on than I imagined.
"Like I'm your favorite flavor of candy and you want to lick every inch of me."
She shudders, and I crawl onto the bed, co
vering her body. Silky skin, soft curves, and the smell of her wrapped around me—shit. I thrust against her, unable to stop myself and she gives a little cry, half moan, half sob.
"Atticus, please," she whimpers, and it’s the sexiest thing I've ever heard. I smile and nip at her earlobe, drawing it into my mouth.
"What is it, Avery? What do you want?"
"Anything. Just kiss me." She's panting, twisting under me, and I laugh, a low noise in the back of my throat. Slide down her body a little and trail my fingers up and over her rib cage. She arches into my touch. Her tits are still in that bra, her nipples tight little peaks begging for attention. I cup one in my hand, rub a thumb over it. I want to see her, so I flick the front clasp and nudge the cups aside.
I want to take a moment to appreciate the beauty laid out before me. But I've been waiting too long for this. I lower my head, catching one tight nipple and drawing it deep in my mouth. She whimpers, and I glance up at her through my eye lashes.
She's staring at me, her eyes half-lidded and sleepy. I rake my teeth over the hard peak then trace a circle with my tongue, and she closes her eyes, her body undulating under me. "Oh, God."
I grin and give the same attention to the other breast, teasing her until she's whimpering, her legs shifting restlessly on the bed.
When I slip my hand between her legs, I almost lose it. She moans, a noise I could quickly become addicted to, and lifts her head to stare at my hand. Even through her panties, I can feel how wet she is.
"Atticus, please!" she begs and I sit up to smile at her.
“What is it, sweet girl?” She arches into my fingers, and I stroke over her, watching to see what makes her crazy. “What do you want?”
“Quit teasing,” she growls. I laugh and slide my hand under her panties. She shudders and I groan.
“God, Avery. You’re so damn wet.”
I slip my hand free, and she lets out an inarticulate noise of frustration. “Shh, baby. Don’t worry.” I peel her panties down, and settle between her legs.
Avery jumps when I kiss the inside of her thigh. I drop tiny kisses along her leg, and finally, finally, on the soft heat. Her hands find my hair, and she moans as I nibble at her clit, easing two fingers into her.
Shit. She’s so tight, the soft muscles clenching on my fingers. She’s close. I hook my fingers a little, rubbing as I thrust, and suck lightly on her clit, and she screams as she shatters.
I keep my fingers in her, reveling in the rhythmic clenching, watching her as her eyes flutter closed, her head back.
She jumps when I scissor my fingers inside her. Groans when l lick at her slit. By the time I replace my fingers with my tongue, she’s pleading, her hips rocking against my lips. I finger her clit with one hand, a steady pressure, as the other cups her ass, tilts her up to me and shoves her over the edge of orgasm again.
I can’t wait any longer. I grab a condom from the bedside table, rolling it on quickly. I can’t remember the last time I was this hard. Wanted a girl this much. I crawl up her body and catch her face in two hands. My erection is nestled between her legs, brushing over her slit. It’s teasing both of us, but I take a second to kiss her, plunging my tongue into her mouth. I feel like I’m trying to devour her.
Avery’s finger nails are digging into my back, and then she sucks on my tongue. All I can think of is how much I want her sucking my dick and it jumps between my legs.
“I can taste myself,” she murmurs, “on your lips.”
“Jesus, Avery,” I breathe.
She laughs and shifts a little. The tip of my cock slides into her, and her legs fall open. “Fuck me, Atticus.”
My control, already fraying, snaps. I plunge into her, and she lets out a strangled sound, her nails digging into my back. I’m only half sheathed, and I ease back, then thrust again, until all of my dick is deep in her.
She’s so tight it’s almost painful. Distantly, I wonder how long it’s been for her. Then she rolls her hips, bites down on my lip and says, “I said, fuck me.”
I smirk. “Greedy.”
She laughs, but it ends on a gasp when I pull out and then thrust in. It takes a moment, but we find a rhythm, and I pound into her. She’s tightening around me, and she snakes a hand between us, toying with her clit. Her eyes close. “Just like that, Atti. Don’t stop.”
I thrust again, twice, three times, and she moans, a long low noise, shuddering as she comes. I pull her close, roll us so she’s seated on me. From this angle, my dick is even deeper. I shift her so she’s leaning a little back, and close my eyes. My hips churn, my dick slipping through her wet heat.
She shifts suddenly, leaning down and kissing me as she grinds her hips in tiny circles against me while I thrust against her and my orgasm slams into me, so hard I almost black out. I catch a handful of her hair and pull her away from me, staring at her sleepy, satisfied smile as I come.
Chapter 15
Avery
“Do we have to get up?” The question, spoken against my belly, makes me shiver.
“Yes. You’re meeting Bretaur in forty-five minutes.”
He crawls up the bed and drops on the pillow. “We’re meeting him.”
I stare at Atticus. He’s relaxed, his eyes bright as he watches me. I bite my lip, and his gaze drops. “You should probably get dressed.”
“You should probably quit looking at me like that,” I shoot back, and he leans in to give me a quick kiss.
“Get dressed, Avery.”
I sit up, holding the sheet to my chest. It’s a little awkward, being naked, now. Atticus stands up and strolls, stark naked, into the bathroom. My mouth waters a little, and I grin. All that fine body is mine, to play with and tease as much as I see fit. And after how much he teased me…
“Shit. Atticus, my clothes.”
He pokes his head out of the bathroom. “What?”
“My bags are in my room.” I scramble from the bed, snatching up my underwear. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few minutes.”
His hands are on my waist, stopping me as I shrug on my bra. “No.”
I give him an exasperated look. “Atticus. I have to get dressed. I’ll be gone fifteen minutes.”
“Take a shower. I’ll get your bags and bring them down.”
“But—”
“Do you really think you’re going to be anywhere but my bed tonight?” he asks, his voice low and amused.
“Pretty sure of yourself, Professor.”
His eyes darken, and I shiver at the heat in them.
“Shower. I’ll be right back.” He kisses me quickly, and I turn to the bathroom.
The shower is tiny, the counter cluttered with his aftershave and toothbrush. I snag the little sample bottles off the sink as the water warms and step into the spray.
Oh, God. What have I done? I slept with a professor—a professor in my discipline. And he’s my boss. What happens after this trip, when he’s bored with the sex and we’re home? When the consequences of this little mistake are more pressing than the memory of his lips on me.
But, daayum. If I have to fuck up my future, at least the sex was good.
Or, you know, mind-blowing.
“Avery?”
I swallow my scream, almost choking. Poke my head out to glare at Atticus. “Do you believe in knocking?”
He smirks. “Not so much. You almost done?”
“Two minutes.”
I duck back into the water and rinse the conditioner from my hair before turning the water off and reaching for a towel.
Atticus is leaning against the sink, his gaze hot as it traces the beads of water sliding down my body. I wrap the towel around myself, and he makes a low, disappointed noise in his throat.
“We could reschedule.”
I go up on tiptoes and kiss him, sucking on his lip, and grin when he groans. “Patience,” I murmur and slip past him.
We’re running late—and it’s Atticus’ fault. His fingers are twisted around mine as we weave our way through
the crowded streets. A street performer is standing on the curb, and I sway slightly to the jazz.
“Do you like it?” he asks, the words spoken into my ear.
I nod. “It’s even more than I expected.”
And it’s true. The city is throbbing and alive with personality that makes me want to spend weeks exploring it.
“Do you want to see anything while we’re here?”
I shrug. “I’m fine with whatever you want to do.”
Atticus laughs. “Baby, after this meeting, I’d be perfectly happy to keep you naked and in my bed the rest of the weekend.”
I flush, but the truth is the idea is incredibly enticing. I look up at him. “I could probably be okay with that.”
He half laughs, half groans, and we finish walking to the little restaurant.
Atticus
Daniel Bretaur is in the Navy. His hair is cut brutally short, an easy smile softening his face as the hostess ushers us to his table.
“Professor Grimes?” he asks. I nod, and his gaze skates to Avery, quietly assessing and a little too interested.
She slips off her sweater, and my dick gets hard. The dress is a simple sundress, black with white polka dots and red trim that flirts with her knees. A hint of cleavage peeks above her sweetheart neckline.
It’s a demure dress. But I saw the black strapless bra and lace panties that she’s wearing beneath it, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
“I’m Avery Emili, Professor Grimes’ research assistant. I hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”
This Love Page 8
