Educating Sophia (The Moran Family Book 5)

by Alexis James

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, as if she’s annoyed that her family is concerned. “I’ll call her.”

  Lifting a brow, I reply, “Really? Because she said she’s left you a bunch of messages. Apparently no one has been able to reach you.”

  “I said I would call.”

  She attempts to shut the door in my face, but my hand comes and slaps against the surface, giving it a shove. “I’ll just come in and wait while you do.”

  Arms pulled tight across her chest, she glares at me as I step into her apartment and close the door behind me. “What are you doing here, Caleb?”

  Looking around, I see a nicely decorated, spotless living room. The TV is on and spread out on her coffee table are magazines and an opened book. “I told you.”

  “No you didn’t. All you said was that Amita called. But why you? And why did you have to come here?”

  I shrug and take a seat on the couch, pulling out my phone and scrolling to Amita’s number. Holding the phone out to face Sophia, I challenge, “Either you call her, or I will.”

  She spends a good, long time staring at me then grumbles out a curse before picking up her phone to dial. She refuses to look at me while the call connects, electing instead to move behind the couch and take a seat at the table.

  “I’m fine.” There’s a long pause, and all I can hear is the fading sound of a female voice on the other end. “Yes, he told me.” Picking up one of the magazines, I thumb through it while she talks. “I’ve been busy, Amita. Please tell them I’m sorry.” Twenty ways to give her an orgasm. Hmm … this article should be interesting. “Yes, he did. Oh really? A dull knife you say?” I snicker at her sister-in-law’s homicidal tendencies. “I’ll be fine. I can handle him.” Sadly, she’s right. She knows just how to handle me. “Yes. I will call tomorrow. I love you too.”

  My eyes bulge as I read through the magazine and start to laugh. Once she’s dropped the phone back onto the coffee table and is warily looking at me, I inquire, “Tell me the truth. Can women really come from dirty talk?”

  My attempt at levity must work because the harsh look on her face fades, and she starts to chuckle. “Getting some pointers, are you?”

  I shrug and toss the magazine back down. “Something like that.”

  She remains standing, almost as if she’s afraid to get any closer to me. “Alright. You’ve done your good deed for the day. You can go.”

  “Can’t.”

  “What? Why not?”

  I shrug and lean back casually against the couch, stretching my legs out in front of me. “I took a taxi here.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I had too much to drink.” Through my still-hazy vision, I watch her attempt to keep that baffled expression on her face. She can’t, however, hide the concern that threads through her eyes.

  “Why are you drunk?”

  I shrug and let the truth roll too easily off my tongue. “Because I hurt you.”

  Her entire demeanor changes right before my eyes. The cold woman who greeted me at the door suddenly becomes the brokenhearted woman I once imagined a future with. Her soft brown eyes pool with tears and the color fades from her face, shoulders dropping in defeat as she turns away and tries to hide her sadness.

  “Come here,” I urge softly. The stubborn beauty shakes her head defiantly. “Come here Sophia.” She glances over at me and our eyes meet, but she still refuses to move. “Come to me or I’m coming over to you. But I’m not leaving until we talk.”

  She sighs exhaustedly. “Why can’t you just leave? What good does it do to talk now?”

  I’m on my feet and moving toward her before all the words are out of her mouth. Pulling her into my arms, she goes willingly, which surprises me given all the defiance. Her arms snake around my waist, head resting on my chest. I have no idea what I’m going to say to her or even where we go from here. But having her in my arms is a good first step. It’s scary as hell, and I have to wonder if we’re headed down a slippery slope with no escape.

  If we are, there’s no one I’d rather take the trip with than her.

  Caleb wraps me up in his embrace, engulfing me completely. My head tucks nicely beneath his chin as I realize this is the first time we’ve held one another chest to chest. He smells so good, a mixture of spice and warmth with a hint of whiskey. I can feel his heart beating just as erratically as mine, the furious staccato a telltale sign of how monumental this moment is. The feel of his T-shirt is soft against my cheek, and I smile when I realize this the second time I’ve seen him in normal, everyday clothes.

  “You’re wearing jeans,” I comment.

  He chuckles. “Uh, yes I am.”

  “You never wear jeans.”

  He sighs against my hair and tightens his embrace. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  My stomach vaults to my feet as his apology and endearment that erases all the distance between us. We’re now just man and woman, two people who have struggled to find a middle ground together. “I know you are. And believe it or not I do understand. I’m probably not like those other women you date.”

  His hands cup my face, and he pulls back just enough to look down at me. “I don’t date, Sophia. I see women, occasionally. Rarely. I have enough issues dealing with my ex-wife.”

  Picturing him as someone’s husband unsettles me. “Is that who you’re always arguing with on the phone?”

  He nods. “Yes. But I don’t want to talk about Rianne now. I want to talk about you … about us.”

  Us. Wow. Just when I had myself convinced there would never be an “us,” he comes barging in here and turns my life upside down yet again. “There is no us, Caleb. You made that very clear at graduation.”

  His forehead comes down on mine in a move that sends my heart aflutter each and every time. “I was an ass.”

  “You were scared.”

  After a long hesitation, he nods. “Yes, I suppose I was.” His warm whiskey-scented breath dances across my face, lips inches from mine. “You have your entire life ahead of you. You have this big, beautiful family who cares for you and watches out for you. I just …”

  I grin at his obvious insecurity. This confident, imposing man is suddenly so very human. “Are you worried my brothers will beat you up if you hurt me?”

  He chuckles. “It’s not your brothers I worry about. Amita is pretty damn scary.”

  I laugh and slide my hands up his chest until I’m framing his face. “That she is.” With a sigh, I continue. “I know this isn’t a conventional relationship, but it feels right to me. I don’t care that I used to be your assistant. I don’t care that you’re older than me and have been married before.”

  “You may not, but your family will.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I reply, “That is their problem, not mine. I want you. You’re the man I can’t stop thinking about. You’re the man I’ve had a crush on for over a year.”

  He grins at me. “Really?”

  I can feel my face flush with embarrassment. “Yes. I admit, I might have stalked you a bit.”

  Caleb laughs and his hands fall to my hips. “Yeah, well I might have been doing my fair share of stalking you too.”

  Surprised, my eyes widen. “Really? You hid it well. Sure seemed like all I did was piss you off.”

  He shrugs, looking hot and sexy and contrite. “I wasn’t pissed at you. I was pissed at myself, for being attracted to you.”

  My body instantly reacts to his honest admission, warming in all the places that have chilled the past two weeks. As my eyes wander lazily over his handsome face, the disheveled hair, and far too kissable lips, a tremor of fear bubbles up. I want this man more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone. A deep need that’s physical as well as emotional. I admit, I want him to fall as hard as I have. I want to be the one he thinks about and the one he can’t get enough of. I want him to imagine us years down the road, together and happy.

  I want him to love me.
r />   “Kiss me, Caleb,” I whisper.

  He looks at me through hooded, bright green eyes, his jaw tensing as one hand crawls up my back and tangles in the hair at my neck. “I can’t. Not yet. Not like I want to.”

  Disappointment washes over me. “What? Why not?”

  Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, “If I kiss you, I’ll need to kiss you everywhere. And I won’t stop until my cock is buried deep inside you and you’re coming all over it.”

  My eyes roll back in my head as I melt in his embrace, the throbbing between my legs escalating. “Please, Caleb.”

  His large palms come down to grip my ass and pull me up against his very solid erection. “You don’t know what you’re asking. I have no restraint where you’re concerned.”

  Rolling my hips against his, I murmur, “I do know what I’m asking. I’m asking you to kiss me. On my lips. And everywhere else.”

  He growls and his lips find my neck. “Jesus, Sophia. I can only take so much.”

  Now it’s my turn to palm his ass and grip tight, and he groans low in response. “I’ve waited a very long time for you, Caleb. I’m tired of waiting. I want you now.” Tipping my head back, I find his eyes dark with need. “Stay with me tonight. Stay with me as long as you want. Let’s talk and laugh and make love and argue over who has the remote.”

  He chuckles. “No argument there, gorgeous. The remote is mine.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I pinch his ass. “Good thing you’re so damn hot. Otherwise, I might fight you for it.”

  His eyebrows wiggle up and down. “Fighting might be fun.” He sobers quickly, his face turning serious. “We hardly know one another.”

  I shrug. “So, that’s an easy fix. Stay. Get to know me. Let me get to know you.”

  Long, silent moments pass where the only communication is the look we exchange. I have no idea what he sees when he looks at me, but he appears conflicted. His body knows exactly what it wants, and that impressive erection hasn’t waned one bit while we’ve been talking. But I see the hesitancy there, the wariness in his eyes. I see the worry that he might hurt me again, and I adore him more because of it.

  “Okay. I’ll stay. Just for a little while, though.”

  My grin is not the least bit subtle, but I do try to play it cool as I pull away from his embrace and move toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”

  “Yes. Earlier.”

  Extracting beers for each of us and the plate of chocolate chip cookies I made earlier in the day, I head back out in the living room to find him once more seated on the couch, perusing the magazine. Setting everything on the coffee table, I sit next to him and peer over his shoulder. “Brushing up on your twenty ways?”

  He smirks. “I may be a little out of practice, but I’m fairly certain I remember how to give a woman an orgasm.”

  My mouth falls open and once more my face heats. Nice, Sophia. Way to be grown-up and sophisticated. “Oh, I’m certain you do.”

  One dark brow lifts as he gives me a sideways glance. “Really now? And why is that?”

  I point to the magazine, to number seventeen. “Because that right there. If you talk dirty to me again, I’m positive it could happen.”

  He laughs, his silky baritone wafting over me and warming my heart. I’ve never seen him so relaxed and happy. The alcohol he consumed might play a part, but I have a hunch he’s as happy as I am that Amita pushed him in my direction.

  Caleb’s hand reaches for mine, lacing our fingers together. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  I nod without hesitation. “Yes. I want you. I want us. And I don’t care if anyone has an issue with it.” Tipping my head to the side, I whisper, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  His eyes drift down to my lips. “Absolutely.” Bending down, he grazes his lips over mine so briefly I wonder if I’ve imagined it. But then he does it again. One more sweep of his warm lips across mine, and before I can sink into it and allow it to go further, he’s pulling away. He’s silent as his eyes drift over my face, seeking answers, seeing the truth. His palm cradles my jaw, thumb teasing my bottom lip. In this moment, I can’t want for anything more than to be right here with him. In this moment, he’s giving me the happiness I have craved, the serenity to believe in forever.

  The moment is severed when he pulls back, his hand falling away. The panicked look in his eyes, the tight set of his jaw tells me he doesn’t quite trust in his restraint.

  Boy do I understand that feeling.

  Settling down with my head on his shoulder, I sigh happily. “I really like you, Caleb Bonham.”

  He chuckles, “I really like you too, Sophia Moran.”

  Even though my feelings for him run deeper than that … Well, I’ll keep that a secret for now. Given how tentative he is, I have a hunch we may be spending a lot of time sitting on the couch holding hands. Sure, I’d rather be rolling around naked on my bed, but that will happen. And who knows, maybe he’s right. Maybe we should get to know each other a little better before we take that leap. Just goes to show that being the mature one isn’t always a bad thing.

  Pointing to the magazine, item eighteen, he murmurs, “We are so trying this one.”

  Glancing to where he points, I start to laugh. “In your dreams, Professor. In your dreams.”

  Removing two long-stemmed wine glasses from the cabinet, I set them on the counter and locate the wine opener. I’d prefer whiskey, but ever since my bender the week before I’ve kept it stashed away, out of reach. It would be too easy to drink a few shots to take the edge of this driving need I have to claim Sophia. Lord knows I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want her. And every day we spend more time together, the more I’m blinded by the driving demand to peel her clothes away and fuck her in every way imaginable.

  She deserves better than that. She deserves to be made love to, slowly, until she’s weary from repeated orgasms and mindlessly begs to be taken again. I’ll get her there. We’ll get there, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like it’s taking forever.

  We have had a fun week together getting to know one another. I’ve taken her out for breakfast, to my father’s house for a visit, and on a walking tour of the Garden District. We explored the French Quarter, stopped for a drink at a cool little jazz club I like, and took a day trip to Biloxi, Mississippi, where my mom was born and raised.

  Getting to know her as a woman and not as the student who worked for me has been an eye-opening experience. She’s extremely knowledgeable about the aspects of teaching, and yet she bombards me with questions daily. She’s completely bewitched my father, who laughs like a young boy whenever she’s around. She has such a natural ease about her, nothing fake or phony, from the way she looks at me to the gentle way she’s always sliding her hand into mine.

  The entire time we’ve been together, I’ve managed to keep my distance. I’ve not kissed her since that brief touch in her apartment. Other than a few long embraces here and there, I’ve done exactly what I promised myself I would: I’ve earned her trust and allowed her to get to know me before we move onto the physical side of our relationship.

  A knock sounds at my door and I smile. She’s been asking to come here, to see my home, and until now I’ve put her off. I’ve thrown out a few token excuses, but the truth is that once she steps over that threshold, she’s becoming mine. I’m literally cross-eyed with the need to kiss her, hold her, strip her. So wound up that I’ll most likely embarrass myself and come before she does.

  Pulling the door open, I greet her with a kiss on the forehead. “You look beautiful.” That’s an understatement. Her long light brown hair falls in soft waves over her bare shoulders, and the simple blue dress she’s wearing hugs her trim frame like a second skin. It hits mid-thigh, and the tall heels she’s wearing put all sorts of ideas into my head—a head already chock-full of enough ideas, thank you very much.

  “So do you,” she replies, strolling inside and taking a look around. My place isn’t fancy or particularly large, but
the light gray cabinets, quartz countertops, and dark laminate flooring give it a sophisticated feel. The furniture is simple and contemporary, all dark woods and steel. The flat screen hangs on the wall opposite the couch, flanked by a table that displays a few history books I’ve collected. All in all it’s a decidedly masculine space, and yet she looks right at home as she walks the length of the room and turns to me with a smile.

  “This space is so you, Professor.”

  Jesus, does she have any idea what it does to me when she calls me that? I’m already hard, and she just walked in the door. “Thanks, I think. Wine?”

  She shrugs and thumbs through one of the books. “Sure. Wine would be nice.”

  We settle on the couch with our wine glasses, and I attempt not to fixate on the slim leg that’s crossed over the other, teasing me with that high heel. We make small talk, and then she tells me about her conversation with Mia. Baby Kami is apparently right as rain and growing like a weed.

  I tell her that Pop and I had lunch together and share a story of when I was a kid and he first taught me to drive. We laugh, drink some wine, and then she sighs heavily and sets her glass on the coffee table. She reaches out for my glass and does the same.

  “So, Caleb,” she says, standing and pulling the hem of her dress up higher before straddling my waist and settling on my lap. “Are we done with all the chitchat?” I’m so dumfounded by her take-charge attitude, I can only shrug. “Here’s the thing. I’m done with the chitchat. I want us to get naked and fuck and make love and screw and hump until we forget each other’s names.” Her head tips to the side and she smiles innocently. “You with me so far?” Again, I’m numb with shock, so I can only nod. Where the hell has she been hiding this side of her personality for so long? “Good. Glad to hear it.” She reaches for the buttons on my shirt, undoing each one slowly while her mouth explores my neck with little whispers of words between nips of her teeth. “I fully appreciate all the dating we’ve done this week. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you better and spending time with you.” Sitting upright, she pushes the shirt off my shoulders then runs her hands down my pecs and grins appreciatively. With a sigh, her eyes find mine and the smile she gives me should be warning enough. “I’ve worn out my vibrator and my hand. I need you to make me come.”