Beauty and the Professor (A Modern Fairy Tale Duet 1)

“They’d probably hold him to his contract and drop me from the class. Besides, I can’t embarrass him that way. Everyone would find out. We’ve got to keep it a secret until I graduate. Then they can say whatever they want. So that’s why I need to take this class. Sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t want this to be something you regret. It’s good to be wild and have great sex and all that jazz. Believe me, I know. If it were me, I’d do this in a heartbeat. I’d make dirty jokes all through class. I’d pass him notes and wear my shortest skirts in the front row. But that’s not you.”

No, that wasn’t Erin. She’d had sex in Blake’s university office, just once, and it wasn’t likely to ever happen again. She liked being wild and having great sex and all that jazz, as Courtney had put it, but she preferred it in the privacy of Blake’s home. In that way, they were well matched. He lived like a recluse, and she wanted to seclude herself with him. But the world would intrude and demand its due. And it demanded that he teach this class and she take it. Not a big ask, really. She’d dealt with worse. Hey, it could even be fun. And educational. She’d bet he was a great professor. So thoughtful and enthusiastic—and stern when it was warranted.

Oh God, the thought of him reprimanding her made her hot.

Blake

She was hiding something. Blake knew it, but he didn’t feel compelled to push her. He’d made dinner. Spaghetti wasn’t a gourmet meal, but it was a step up from takeout or pizza. He’d even dug in the back of his pantry for a bottle of wine. They were enjoying a quiet evening. She would tell him what she needed to when the time was right.

Now more than ever, he knew how much he wanted to keep her. Knew it with a bone-deep certainty. Since his visit to Joe, some of the urgency had faded. That drive to possess her, hold her like she might slip away if she weren’t clenched tightly enough. Here in the sweet current of her company, he saw things with more clarity—with a little more faith in the future.

She took a sip. “This is good. Is it a special wine?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Special how?”

“I don’t know. You seem like the kind of guy who’d know about wines. Labels and wine tastings and stuff.”

He shrugged. “It’s Merlot. My mother is the wine enthusiast, and I mean that in the best and worst way. But that has nothing to do with who I am. I’ll serve Kool-Aid next time if you want it.”

She grinned. “You drink Kool-Aid?”

“What, everyone likes Kool-Aid. It’s a childhood staple.”

“Oh my God, you must have been an adorable kid. I can see it. Little Blake wearing his leading strings and suspenders.”

He snorted. “Exactly how old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know…but old.” She blinked innocently. “Like thirty?”

He threw the crust of his breadstick at her.

She ducked, laughing. “Thirty-one?”

Hiding his grin beneath a scowl, he rounded the table. “I may be ancient, but I’m still strong enough to deal with a mouthy little girl.”

“Feeling spry, are you?”

“That’s it.” He lifted her bodily from the chair and carried her into the living room. He didn’t let up even when he tossed her onto the couch. He followed her down and—he felt this was the only logical rebuttal of her accusations—tickled her until she was breathless and panting in his arms. Exactly as he liked her, laughing and so fucking perfect it made his heart hurt.

He pulled back slightly, feeling oddly reticent, like he couldn’t let himself reach too far. Which was crazy, because this was Erin. His Erin, his girl.

Her smile faded. She put a hand to his cheek, stroking gently. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. Sorry.”

“Don’t keep it from me, whatever it is. Remember? Every part of you and every part of me.”

She looked up at him in the dim light spilling over from the dining room. Her dark golden hair framed her face against the brown leather of the couch. He wished her eyes weren’t so wide, her lips weren’t so full. He wished he could turn away.

Instead he stared back, his mind racing with words like steadfast and loyal and kind. With lovely. He understood it now. So much more than how she looked or talked, though that was part of it. Every part of her, and he wanted to drown himself in every sweet, doleful inch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said thickly, because it was all he could say.

Something flickered in her eyes. Wariness. Guilt? What was she keeping from him?

But she kissed him, pressed those lush lips to his, and he let her. Let her slip the invisible blindfold over his eyes and let her, let her, because he trusted her. Even if it made him an idiot, he needed to trust in that dark place where he’d been beaten and burned and come out stronger this time.