by Skye Warren
Falling for the Beast
Skye Warren
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from Overture
More Books by Skye Warren
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
Blake
Three weeks until the end of semester
Blake Morris stared down at his coffee, trying to force his sluggish mind to wake up. His throat was dry. His whole body ached, as if reminding him of what he had lost, of the emotional IED that had gone off when he and Erin had gone on a break.
Two weeks of not touching her, not smelling her.
Not feeling her sweet body surrender underneath him.
He saw her in class, but that only made the pain more acute. She was forever in front of him, apart from him—and he, in a constant state of wanting.
The sound of tires on gravel drew his attention to the window. A beat-up sedan pulled to a stop in his driveway. His heart began to thud with a hope he could not afford. She was no longer his. If she’d come to fight for him, he would have to turn her away. And if she’d come to curse him out, it was no better than he deserved.
If it were only his reputation at stake, he would throw it away in a second. It was hers. The woman always took the blame in this situation. He wouldn’t let that follow her around, even if it killed him.
He felt like shit for fucking her.
He felt like shit for not fucking her.
It was one hell of a conundrum, but the only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn’t wait to see her. The brief moments in class were not nearly enough.
He was starved for the sight of her.
The doorbell didn’t ring. Knuckles didn’t knock. She still had a key, and he supposed she was using it. Footsteps came from behind him. He turned slightly.
Ah, there she was.
Hopeful. Bright. There wasn’t any accusation in her brown eyes, so he supposed she had come to fight for him. Somehow that made it worse. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure he would win this fight, not when he wanted so badly to lose.
She sat down on the stool next to his. They were seated at the granite bar that capped his kitchen, the same place where they’d shared a light breakfast so many mornings. He made her pancakes once. “Hey, stranger.”
There were things he should say to her. You shouldn’t be here. That much was true. I don’t want you here. That would be a lie, though it almost definitely would make her leave. He couldn’t say the words through the lump in his throat.
Hey, stranger, she’d said.
So he would play along with her game, for now. That seemed to be the only thing he was capable of doing. If only she were a little bit less pretty, a little bit less strong. If he loved her just one fraction less. “Do I know you from somewhere?” he said, his voice rough.
“We may have met. I think you taught one of my college courses.”
If the course were really in the past, if it were over, then he could touch her, kiss her. He wouldn’t be her professor in the future. It was only the present that hurt so much. “So tell me, how’d I do?”
“Oh, excellent. You got five chili peppers on the professor rating site.” At his raised eyebrow, she explained, “That means you’re hot.”
He swallowed the remainder of his coffee. “Now I know you’re lying.”
“I would rate you six chili peppers if I could.”
Even though she was just being kind, something panged in his chest. She meant he was beautiful on the inside, or she’d just gotten used to the way he looked, and it was more than enough for him. “Why did you come?” he asked softly.
She glanced down at her clothes, which he now realized where the same stretchy material she wore when she cleaned his house. “I’m here to work.”
His eyebrow rose. “You are?”
“You fired me because we were sleeping together. We’re not doing that anymore, so there’s no reason why I can’t vacuum and dust and do the dishes.”
A throb in his chest. “Erin—”
“Don’t tell me it’s a conflict of interest for a student to work for her professor. People do it all the time as research assistants or teaching assistants.”
God, the temptation to say yes overpowered him. It was impossible to say no. And it was equally impossible to say yes. He wanted Erin a thousand ways. Over him. Under him. He even longed to take her out in public, on lunches and trips to the museum and evenings at the Tanglewood symphony. And once the semester was over, he would do all those things.
If she would still have him.
“I can’t let you clean for me,” he said, his voice thick with regret.
Her brown eyes turn glossy with unshed tears. “Is it just that you don’t want me anymore? I wish you’d just say so. It would hurt, but at least then I’d know—”
“God, Erin, no. I never should have let you pick up a broom around here. Even then, before I had ever touched you, when I believed I never would, I knew it was wrong. I want to serve you. It should never be the other way around.”
She slipped off the stool and circled him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her legs. Her slender legs cupped by the soft fabric of her leggings. Her fingertips brushed over his shoulders. “I want to see you, Blake. That’s all. If I have to clean your house that’s a small price to pay.”
Her lush breasts pressed against his back. He shut his eyes, holding back his groan. His thickening erection tented his sweatpants. “You wouldn’t clean my house.”
Her breath coasted over the back of his neck. “I would.”
Tugging her wrist, he pulled her around to stand between his knees. “I wouldn’t let you, not when I could touch you. Not when I could taste you.”
Her lashes dropped low. “Don’t make me leave. Not yet.”
No. Now that he had seen her he would have to have her. Which was proof that she could never come back here. His willpower wasn’t strong enough. A brick wall fortified with steel and carbonite wouldn’t be strong enough. Nothing could combat the sweet sensuality she exuded.
She knelt in front of him and every thought, every teasing quip flew out of his brain. He could see the shadow between her breasts through the low V of the tank top she wore. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with arousal. She tugged the band of his sweatpants down, releasing his heavy, full cock into her palm. She held him up, as if testing his weight. Her palm looked small and pale beneath the ruddy girth of him.
Delicate fingers wrapping around pulsing, hungry flesh.
“Erin.”
“I know,” she whispered. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”
Jesus. Every time they were together she grew surer in her feminine power, and every time he fell further in love with her. The bonds gripped him tightly, but he never fought them. Here, with Erin, was exactly where he wanted to be.
He sucked in a breath. “Oh, baby, yes, like that. Harder.”
“Don’t make me leave,” she whispered again, brushing her lips to the crown of his cock.
He pushed the hair
back from her face, enjoying the silvery play of sunlight on the crown of her head. Her position was sensual, but when he looked down at her, the emotions he felt far surpassed the physical. Her position was submissive, but he was the one at her mercy.
With a wicked tilt of her lips, she fisted his cock and brought him to the brink, pump after groan-inducing pump. Just when he was sure he’d blow, she stopped, leaving him on the knife-thin edge of pleasure and aching need. Her hand remained still, holding him up as she leaned forward.
Her lips pressed the slippery head in a chaste kiss. The velvety caress made his hips cant forward. He sighed in helpless denial. She was killing him, slaying him, and he wouldn’t have stopped her for anything. Her tongue darted out, sending molten pleasure to his balls. She sucked him in shallowly, holding the head in her mouth and sucking hard. He swore every crude, vulgar word he’d ever heard in the military, his fingers white-knuckled on the edge of the stool.
She glanced up at him. The sultry knowledge in her eyes mesmerized him. His veined shaft disappeared between her stretched, pink lips. He wanted so many things. To make her take him deeper. To hold her head. To own her. But his love for her wrapped around him like butter-soft chains, holding him back and keeping her safe.
A new, subtle pressure had him clenching and rising up to meet her mouth. She’d worked a finger down below where he couldn’t see—but Jesus, he could feel. Sparks down the seam of his balls and up underneath. How could she bear to touch him there? He wanted to make her stop, to force her to rub him there faster and harder. The barstool may as well have been glued to his palms. He couldn’t move them. Couldn’t stop her, couldn’t make her do a damn thing. This was all her: wicked intent and lavish attention.
Slowly, her finger slid back farther, to the waiting pucker of his ass. His whole body strung up tight. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying out no and stop and God fuck yes. Flames licked his balls, and he rocked in a rhythmic motion, desperate for relief.
As her finger explored forbidden territory, her eyes held a question. Do you like this? And they held something else, her answer. She liked this, and he was filled with gratitude. Flushed with pleasure. He would probably go up in smoke any second now, but God, the burn felt so sweet.
Circles.
The thought pierced his lustful haze. She was making circles right there with the tip of her finger. He followed the sensation of tiny spirals at his most vulnerable point. She sucked him in deep, making his eyes roll back. Her grip at the base of his cock tightened and then slid along the shaft. Her finger at his back entrance pressed inside. The smallest degree of entry, and he was lost. Climax swept over and consumed him. He shouted something broken and base while he poured his orgasm on her tongue. Shudders wracked his body as he stared down at her. His entire body clenched tight with pleasure before relaxing in sweet contentment. She lovingly licked the last traces of seed from his cock.
Finally releasing himself, he unclenched his fingers from the stool. One hand shoved into her hair and gently pulled her to him. He kissed her with an open mouth and greedy tongue, tasting himself inside her. His body was sated, but not his desires. He had wanted to taste her, and judging from the way she shivered in his grip, she wanted that too.
Feeling wild and desperate, he glanced around the kitchen. Through the open-air entranceway, he saw the armchair in the living room. Not a very comfortable piece, but the padding would protect her. He wanted to make her come so hard her liquid spilled onto the cushion. He felt feral, wanting to mark the furniture with her scent, her sex.
“Follow me.” Feeling grim and unkind, he pulled her over and set her down. A little more roughly than he needed to, but it set the tone. She needed to understand. This was how it would be, him leading and her placid. It was the only way he could worship her properly, because if she spoke a single word, he’d obey.
He spread her legs, placing them over each padded arm of the chair. It was bondage without a foot of rope. The more he pleasured her, the tighter her legs would bind her here. Of course, she could always relax and stand up herself, but she wouldn’t. The dark amusement in her eyes said she understood the game, she accepted it. Her parted lips and quickened breath said she didn’t give a damn, as long as he gave her what she needed.
The folds of her sex glistened in the faint light. He speared his fingers through the moisture, relishing the slickness. So lovely. And his, all his. He dipped into the wet heat. His cock stirred again, ready to take its rightful place. No. Not this time. He quested farther north, to the place where softness bundled together, where gentle pleasure tightened into nerves. He stroked her clit, and she shuddered.
“Blake.”
She sounded lost and beautiful. What was he doing to her? Should he stop? Leave her alone? He couldn’t.
“Stay quiet,” he said. “Keep your hands on the chair. If you speak or move, I’ll stop.”
He leaned forward to breathe in the earthy, sweet scent of her. Fuck, he went crazy for this. The first taste had him rock hard. The second made him groan with fevered longing. Her sex was plump and swollen, slippery against his lips. He found the well of arousal with his tongue, drawing out more liquid and drinking it down.
The familiar musk of her transported him to another world, where time could never intrude. He had an eternity to lap her folds and suckle her clit. He lashed her with his tongue, pulling stuttered breaths and harsh inhalations, but she was so good. So obedient. She remained almost silent, almost still.
He glanced up and lost a heartbeat at what he saw. Her unfocused eyes had glazed with unshed tears. Her parted lips trembled. He had meant to draw this out, to make her wait and maybe return the favor by exploring the tight pucker beneath. But he couldn’t stand to see her in this kind of sexual agony.
Pressing two fingers inside, he found the roughened spot that made her buck. His lips closed around her clit, sucking her hard. Her whole body grew taut. Her hips bucked against his face. The sensual violence grew too hard, too much, until he skated his free hand, still damp from her juices, along the tender insides of her thighs, a feathery caress to push her over.
She cried out her release as wetness flowed over his lips and down his chin, coating the chair just like he’d imagined. He helped her back down with slight licks and soft kisses. When her body slumped against the back of the chair, he picked her up and held her until the trembling subsided.
Her breathing evened out, and for a minute he thought she’d fallen asleep. Her voice sounded drugged when she spoke, slurred and breathy. “Don’t make me leave.”
A sharp pain lanced his chest. “Not yet.”
He kissed the top of her head and let his lips linger there, reveling in the silky strands of her hair. His one, his only. His everything. And he needed to send her away.
Erin
Erin Rodriguez sat at the granite bar top and took a sip of the coffee that Blake had poured for her. He had also added the right amount of cream and sugar. He knew what she liked.
Blake sat down in the chair where she’d just been. He was naked, one ankle slung over the other. Strong hands that could be impossibly gentle hung loosely on either side of the chair. He leaned his head back against the chair, eyes closed.
His expression was so peaceful, she couldn’t help but stare. Her face flushed when she realized he must feel proof of her excitement beneath him. She might have been more embarrassed except she was distracted by his next words.
“You really do have to go, Erin.”
Her heart clenched. “Why are you doing this?”
He leaned forward, looking grim and one hundred percent serious. “Look, I did handle Melinda. That’s done. But someone like her can come back and ruin this, ruin you, because of what we’re doing. I can’t risk your future that way.”
“What if I want to take that risk?”
“I’m saying no.” His voice was soft, rich with grief but no regret. “I’ve taken advantage of you for too long already. I never should have touched you.
I knew that from the start.”
“You’re not taking advantage of me.” She felt shocked, hollowed out. And somewhat offended. As if she were a child incapable of making her own choices.
He grimaced, seeming to read her thoughts. “You have every right to be mad, but I hope you’ll try to understand. My obligation to you goes beyond that of a lover. I’m your professor. I have a responsibility to take care of you.”
She was silent, hating that she did understand. She loved his integrity, and that’s what she was seeing now. How could she fault him for what made him Blake?
“I hated facing this decision,” he said. “Either way, I would lose you.”
Her stomach bottomed out. “Why does it have to be forever? I’m graduating in a few weeks. The summer session will be over. We can be together freely.”
“I don’t want you to commit to anything.”
“God, Blake. You don’t want me to commit? As if I haven’t already committed in every possible way with my body? With my heart? I’m already committed.”
His resolve seemed to crack. “Erin…”
“Please, Blake.”
“The day after the Faculty Ball.”
“The Faculty Ball?”
“It marks the end of the semester. By then class will be over, grades will be submitted, and your thesis will be finished. If you still want me then, I’m yours.”
Her heart swelled. She loved him. And forever…well, she would do just about anything for forever with him. Even give him up for a while.
“Okay,” she said, still feeling unsteady. “I’ll agree to that, if you agree to my terms.”
“Which are?”
“We wait until after the Faculty Ball, and then you come home with me.”
“I’ve been to your apartment before.”
“I meant my hometown. Come home and meet my mother. It will be better than having her meet you here, where she’ll…” Swallowing, she looked around his kitchen. The thick crown molding and stainless-steel appliances. “Well, she might judge you based on your house.”
Standing, he stalked toward her. God, completely naked. Why couldn’t she stop staring?
