by J. L. White
He watches his hand as he runs his fingers through my long hair, from root to tip and back again.
“The author’s arguments are very clear and well-grounded, from a philosophical viewpoint. So there’s that. But, I find it comforting as a human being. Even after I lost my faith as a teen...”
“You used to believe in God?”
He nods. “My parents don’t attend church, except for holidays sometimes. My grandparents are pretty religious. Baptist. But yes, I believed when I was younger, until... I just couldn’t any more. It really doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. But I still wanted to be a good person. I had this notion, thanks to my grandfather, that atheists were evil deviants.” Shane gives me an amused smile. “He doesn’t get out much.”
I laugh.
“But I was young and still held by some of the ideas I’d grown up with. Then I discovered this book and there, in one volume, was a logical basis for nurturing the great values in ourselves. Generosity. Compassion. Mercy. Honesty...”
A shadow falls briefly over his countenance and he glances at me. I wonder if he’s thinking it’s not terribly honest to be sleeping with one of his students.
“I do try to be honest,” he says. He looks away and sighs. I feel a twinge of guilt. Not for breaking the rules, I’m over that. But for causing him this kind of discomfort. “Anyway,” he says, lighter now, “that book helped me understand why those virtues are so valuable, and it was my first introduction to philosophy.”
He glances at me and smiles broadly. “I was hooked.”
I smile and lightly rub my fingertips along his forearm, which is resting on my stomach. He’s a pretty godly atheist, if you ask me, but I don’t say so.
Instead I continue lightly rubbing his arm and he continues stroking my hair. I ask him about his schooling and he tells me about his years here at Hartman—which he loved—and his stint earning his masters at Tufts University in Massachusetts—which he decidedly did not.
“It was a great program,” he says, “but the winters there. Ugh. Longest two winters of my life.”
“Not what you’re used to?” I ask, realizing I don’t even know where he’s from.
“Ugh, no,” he says, making a disgusted face. “I grew up in Arizona, so I’m used to sun and plenty of it. I don’t know how people can stand living with so many gray skies. It was depressing. I could physically feel it weighing on me.”
If all goes well, I’ll be spending a few winters in Massachusetts myself. I wonder how I’ll feel about all the snow. I want to go to Harvard so badly, though, I’d live in an igloo to do it, if I had to.
“When I started looking at doctoral programs,” Shane continues, “my advisor really wanted me to apply to Princeton. They’re the best and it would’ve been an honor to get in but...” he makes that disgusted face again, “the snow.”
“You’re a blue sky boy, huh?”
“Definitely. Coming back to Hartman was perfect for me. This may sound weird, but I missed Hartman and central California the whole time I was back east. I could live here the rest of my life and be happy. And their doctoral program is top notch.”
I smile up at him. His face has this glow, like he’s living his dream. There’s something about getting a glimpse of his dreams that makes me feel closer to him.
We rest in comfortable silence for a while, then I say, “Okay. One thing on your bucket list. Go.”
He chuckles at me. “I don’t know if I can pick just one.”
“That’s the rule.”
“What rule?”
“The rule I made up just now.”
He laughs. “Hmmm. Okay. Actually, I guess it’s not that hard to tell you my top choice. I’ve always wanted to go snorkeling.”
“Oooh, that’s a good one. I love snorkeling. You’ve never been?”
He shakes his head. “No. One day.”
As I caress his arm, he turns his hand palm up so his fingers can trail along the underside of my arm.
“Your turn,” he says.
“Hmm... I don’t know.” His hand is lightly caressing my side now. It’s hard to think with him distracting me like this. My hand advances up his forearm, along his bicep, and to his shoulder. God, I love how he feels.
“No getting out of it,” he says grinning, moving his hand to my stomach. “It was your question.”
“Um...” What were we talking about? “Oh,” I say. Top of my list. “I want to sleep under the stars.”
“I’ve done that before,” he says. “It’s pretty cool.”
I bring my fingertips back down his arm and to his hand, which is gently rubbing my stomach.
“Or shower in a waterfall,” I add.
“You said only one.”
“Well,” I say, slowly rolling over and climbing onto his lap. “It’s kind of one.”
“How do you figure?” He runs both his hands up my thighs and under the fabric of my skirt.
“They’re both outdoorsy things, so they count as one. I could shower under the waterfall then sleep under the stars. And don’t you dare say that’s a logical fallacy.”
He laughs then looks at me tenderly. My heart dances around in my chest.
“No,” he says quietly, “I wouldn’t dare.”
“You know,” I say, my heart pounding a bit. “I did a Google search of my own. On you.”
He raises his eyebrows, his hands firm against my ass. “Looking into my seedy criminal background, huh?”
I smile and shake my head. “No. Your name.”
“I thought you didn’t need to Google ‘Brook’,” he teases.
“Shane is a variant of Sean,” I say kissing his nose, “which is a variant of John,” I say kissing his cheek, “which means God is gracious.” I kiss his mouth. A soft, lingering kiss where we each draw in a deep breath. His hands travel up my back and he pulls me into a firm embrace. I feel him growing against me.
I pull back and he smiles at me. “Well, that was gracious.”
I slide my hand across his shoulder and down to his chest, running my hand over first one pec, then the other. I can’t stop touching his chest.
“You are without a doubt the sexiest philosophy professor I’ve ever seen,” I say. “Sexiest professor of any class actually. It seems like you should be teaching... I don’t know... modeling or something.”
He laughs. “Philosophy isn’t sexy?”
I think about his blazer. “Baby, you make everything sexy.”
He smiles, but it fades. I recognize this look. I shouldn’t have reminded him he’s my professor. Why can’t I keep my big mouth shut?
Our gaze locks and our hands still. “You know,” he says quietly, “some schools would look the other way with a situation like this, but not Hartman. And they’re right not to. When professors misuse their power, it’s the students who end up abused and victimized.”
“Do you think you’re abusing and victimizing me?”
Frowning, he takes a moment to answer. “I hope not.”
“I don’t think you are,” I say softly.
“But would you realize it if I were?”
I climb off his lap but stay curled next to him, taking his hand in mine and looking him in the eye. “Listen, what are the problems students face when they date a professor? They might need a letter of recommendation and feel they have to trade sexual favors to get it, right? Or they might feel their grades are at stake. You’re not even in my department. No offense, but this is a rinky dink class I’m taking to clear my humanities requirement.”
“Rinky dink!”
I have to laugh at his mortified expression. “It’s nothing against the discipline, obviously. I have a lot of respect for the field.” I put my hand on his chest to emphasize my point. “I’m interested in it and that’s why I took the class. But, I’m sorry to tell you, Mr. I’m So Much More Powerful Than You, you’re totally not. Sucking your cock doesn’t really affect my future as a microbiologist.”
He looks shocked by that last comment for a secon
d, then laughs. “Yeah, well, if we get caught it might affect your future. Mine too, for that matter.”
Then I realize I’m not just gambling with my future here. I’m asking him to gamble with his. He definitely has more to lose than I do.
Maybe I’m being unfair. I lay my head on his arm, no longer smiling. “So...” I say, “Do you want to stop?”
Looking me in the eye, he absently rubs his fingertips on my stomach. “Want? No. I don’t want to stop. Even though there is no doubt in my mind this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done and I know we may live to regret it... No. What I want is to be right here with you, right now. And tomorrow. And the next day. And for as many days as I can get until it all comes crashing down.”
“You’re such a cute little catastrophist,” I say, giving him a kiss. “All we have to do is not get caught.”
He smiles, but a frown immediately chases it away, as if a new thought has brought on a fresh worry.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s just that... so many times victims go along willingly. Only once they’re out of a bad situation do they realize what it really was.”
I exhale forcefully. “For the love of god, stop calling me a victim!”
“I’m not!” he says.
“Aren’t you?”
“No, I’m just... worried about it. What if that’s what’s happening and neither one of us realizes it?”
“Shane,” I say firmly, looking him in the eye. “You are not victimizing me.” He seems to be desperately hanging on my every word. “I want to be here,” I continue, “and if I didn’t I’d have zero problem walking out that door. Seriously. You’re sweet and have a good heart and I like that about you but you have got to stop talking like this. I mean, do you see me as less than you?”
“No! God. You’re brilliant and amazing and when I forget about the fact that I’m your professor, you’re just you. Gorgeous, intelligent, sexy you. When I forget, you’re more like... my peer.”
“Now that’s better! ‘Peer’ is a word I can get behind.”
He smiles, drawing me closer. “I’d like to get behind you.”
I smile. I like the sound of that.
“You fantastic woman, you,” he adds, smiling.
I would tell him to stop flattering me, but I like it.
“Fantastic woman,” I say with a sensual pull in my voice. “That’s another one I approve of.”
He pulls me into one of his amazing kisses. The kind I feel all over my body.
But the place I feel it most, is in my heart.
Chapter 13
By the time Sunday rolls around, I’m in full-on panic mode. I’ve spent four evenings in a row at Shane’s house, and though I’ve done my best to squeeze in homework during the day, I didn’t allow myself near enough time for my project that’s due in my biochemistry class tomorrow.
My frazzled state has drawn all three of my roommates to my room. I hurriedly explain I’m working on a major project due in the morning and would they please go away.
Not surprisingly, that doesn’t work at all.
Ashley’s giving me a puzzled look. “When was it assigned?”
“Last Monday.”
“Well, what have you been doing all week?”
“Or shall we say, who have you been doing all week?” Sam says with a grin.
I look up from my book long enough to scowl at her.
“I don’t think Isabella’s going to get behind on school work over some guy,” Chloe says, calmly brushing out her long auburn hair.
“There’s a first for everything,” Sam says.
Well that’s for damn sure, I think.
“Look I’m just... taking a lot of classes. Now will you all please let me alone so I can get this shit done?”
You would think I’d learned my lesson, but two weeks later I’m once again behind on work because I’m at Shane’s instead of doing my homework like I should be. I have no idea if he’s getting behind in his work too and don’t want to ask. I just want to be right here, in his bed and in his arms.
Our bare chests are lightly pressed against one another and our legs entwined. I’m gently running my fingers over his arms. Yet again. His arms and chest are just so touchable.
I’m trying to convince myself to get up and get going on my homework—I brought my laptop bag—but I suspect this may be yet another evening when it sits in the corner, unused and neglected.
“So...” Shane says softly, watching his hand as it strokes my collar bone. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It may not be any of my business.”
My lips curl into a smile. I wonder what scandalous question he has in mind. “Yes?” I prompt.
“Why don’t you use your Maddox name?”
I freeze and his eyes flit up to mine. I can’t read his expression.
“What?” I ask.
“Isn’t it Isabella Procopio Caivano Nikas Maddox?”
“Um.” I can feel the vein in my neck pulsing against his fingertips. “Yes. How did you find out?” I realize there are people on campus who know. It’s been out since Freshman year, really, but it doesn’t come up often and I’m pretty sure most people have no idea.
“At the meeting,” he says. He’s on the Alumni Relations Committee and they had a meeting this afternoon. “We were discussing fundraising strategies and Professor Jennings said something about it being a pity that Carl and Linda Maddox don’t contribute, but maybe they will once Isabella graduates.”
I’m watching him with a carefully neutral expression.
“Professor Westingfield was sitting to my left,” he continues. “I leaned over and asked him if they were talking about you. He said yes and that you don’t use the Maddox name on campus.”
“I see.” I look down at my fingers, resting on his relaxed bicep.
“I’m sorry if I’m not supposed to know.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not... exactly a secret.”
I shrug my shoulder, trying not to look too upset. Or be too upset.
“I just... try to keep stuff like that in the background” I say. “And my parents don’t not contribute because they’re stingy,” I say, a little defensively. “I just don’t want special treatment for the sake of donations.”
“I can understand that.”
“I wanted to come here and do well on my own merits,” I continue, “and I think I’ve done that.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” he says gently. “And no one was criticizing them. That’s not the impression I got anyway. It’s not like we were discussing it. Professor Jennings just said it in passing and everyone went on.”
My thumb rubs his bicep half an inch, then stills. I give him a sideways glance.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says.
“I’m not upset,” I say. “It’s fine.”
He purses his lips at me and narrows his eyes, as if deciding if he wants to press me any further. I’m hoping he doesn’t. I don’t know why, but it’s making me feel uneasy that he knows. It’s not that I have a reason not to trust him, but sometimes people I’ve dated have changed when they realize there’s a lot of money involved. I’ve seen it before.
Though, we’re not exactly dating, are we?
I take a breath and try to let go of my uneasiness. He hasn’t done anything wrong.
He places a kiss on my shoulder, looking up at me.
I look at him out of the corner of my eye and smile slightly.
Encouraged, he places another kiss farther up, resting his lips on my collar bone. God, but he feels good.
I settle deeper into the pillows, tilting my head to give him more room.
Taking my invitation, he scoots closer and kisses the crook of my neck, parting his lips and tasting me with his tongue.
I let out a little sigh.
He slowly climbs on top of me, curling his arm under my shoulder and looking me in the eye. I wonder if he sees me differ
ently now. No longer just Isabella, but Isabella Maddox.
“It doesn’t seem fair, though,” he says, with a grin and a glint in his eye.
“What?”
“Here you’re up to five names and I still only have two.”
I grin. “No, I gave you Procopio, remember? So it’s four to three.”
“Okay,” he says, rubbing his nose against mine. “I can live with that.”
He kisses me then, wiping away nearly all rational thought. A minute later he pulls away, leaving me breathless.
“I want to go somewhere with you,” he says softly, rubbing my nose again. “Dinner at a nice restaurant or something.”
My eyes widen. “We can’t. We could be seen.”
“Not if we go to Swan Pointe.”
I think about that. It’s down on the coast, about an hour and a half away from Hartford College and the city limits of Rosebrook. It’s kind of far to drive for dinner, but it would be worth it if I could go to an actual restaurant with him, out in the open like a regular couple.
He smiles at me. “Commoners would be nice. It’s very romantic. Have you been there?”
Commoners is one of the formal restaurants attached to Rivers Paradise Resort. He zeroed in on the nicest place in Swan Pointe, that’s for sure. In fact, it could be argued Rivers Paradise Resort is the nicest place in California. Commoners would be perfect, but it’s a no go.
“My parents are friends with the owners,” I say apologetically. “I don’t need them seeing me there with you. Awkward questions and all.”
“Ah. How about The Net?”
“Oooh, I love their coconut shrimp!”
“Then we’re agreed. Great food.” His voice drops. “Romantic atmosphere. It’s pretty pricey, too.”
I blink, wondering why he cares if it’s pricey.
“It’ll be nice to be out somewhere with you,” he says, kissing me deeply, and running his hand over my breast, clearly warming up for something more. My body responds, unable to resist.
I tuck my fear away, for the moment, and allow myself to sink into the drug that is Shane Brooks.
Chapter 14
Around four-thirty Tuesday afternoon, I pull up to a hardware store on the outskirts of Rosebrook to find Shane already there waiting for me. He opens the door to his black Subaru BRZ and I quickly slide in. He casually surveys the area as he comes around and gets in the driver’s seat.
