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

“Joe was trapped under the vehicle. I want to take you to visit him someday soon, by the way. We knew they were coming for us, but I was messed up too badly from the explosion to move. T

he last guy though…he got up and walked away. I watched him go. First he walked, then he took off running. I was furious with him for leaving us that way, but at the same time…envious.” He laughed hollowly. “I wanted to be the hell away from there.”

“Oh, Blake.” She heard what he didn’t say. One of his teammates had walked away. When he’d gotten home, his fiancée had walked away. This was his nightmare. His worst fear was being left behind. And she’d triggered that. She pressed a kiss to the center of his palm, as if she could draw the pain inside of her, just breathe it in.

“I found out later he was never recovered. Presumed dead. So what’s the lesson there, huh? Walk away and die of starvation. Or stay behind and get tortured—” He broke off at her small gasp. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go that far. It feels so random. So horribly random.”

Her heart broke for him. He was a scholar, so goddamned intelligent he couldn’t see the writing on the wall. He wanted answers to life’s tragedies when their very unfair nature meant they had none. A life that allowed a strong, loyal protector to be slain and left for dead. That allowed a hardworking woman like her mother to suffer and be victimized, all for what? She certainly couldn’t comprehend it or explain, but it was true nonetheless.

“I don’t know why these things happen,” she confessed. “I’m not sure we can understand.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Well, that’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

She laughed suddenly, because even though the situation was serious and fraught, it seemed ironic. That he had seen and lived through unimaginable things—things like torture and treason—only to find her comment depressing.

He laughed too, with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Okay, my little philosopher. Why are we here then?”

She was going to make a joke about fatalism being the better part of valor, but she paused. Because she knew the answer, at least the one she lived by. Grasping his wrist, she drew his hand to her heart. His palm nestled above her breasts, but this wasn’t sexual. Her hand spread over his chest, feeling the steady thump beneath. His eyes widened slightly.

“This,” she said softly. The things they discussed in class, those constructs and mores that drew invisible arrows between ideas, that supported one conclusion and empirically disproved another…yes, they were interesting. Stimulating. A worthwhile pursuit in the bright hours of the day. But they paled in comparison to the deep and enduring connection between him and her, a safe place to rest when the night cast the world in shadows.

She could live on the power coursing between them. She could thrive on it. If that made her less of an intellectual, she accepted that, because she knew what she felt. She still wanted to be successful, but not at the expense of her heart.

That was why she’d come back to him. She’d rather lose her degree than give up the magic she’d found with him. She’d rather stand at his side than live in chains made of fear and ambition.

His gaze was hard and tender at the same time. “Considering I’m the professor between us, I have a lot to learn from you.”

She blushed. He smiled and reached up to touch her heated skin.

“Be with me?” she whispered uncertainly. An apology and entreaty all at once. Not everything was solved and sorted between them, but then they never would be. Like the eddies and entrapments of life, they could only face each obstacle as it came. No promise of smooth waters, just a partner for the journey.

His eyes softened. “You never have to ask, lovely. I’m here. Wherever you go and whenever you come back, I’m yours.”

They leaned forward at the same time, their lips pressed together, bodies fusing. The air was sucked out of the room. She opened her mouth against his, drawing her breath from him, taking sustenance and feeding it back. Her tongue flicked into his mouth, and he groaned.

“Upstairs,” he muttered. “No more sex on the sofa for a while.”

She laughed but complied, preceding him up the stairs. “I saw the new window dressings.”

“Not good enough. I’m going to buy up all the land around here too. Or maybe I can find an island. We’ll make a country for just the two of us.”

“And you’ll be the king?” Reaching his bedroom, she climbed onto his bed.

“Yes,” he said, making quick work of his clothes.

Her mouth went dry at the sight of his naked body, the hard planes sprinkled with dark male hair. The erect length that rose between his legs. “And I’ll be the queen?”

“You’ll be my subject. The first ordinance, no clothes on you. Ever.” He approached her and tugged off her shirt, her bra. Pulled her to stand and didn’t stop until she was naked.

“What about when we have guests? Surely I should wear clothes then.”

“We don’t permit visas,” he said apologetically. “Second ordinance. Everything you do must be in pursuit of pleasure.”

She walked herself back on the bed while he followed. “This all seems very restrictive.”

“I might let you leave occasionally. Once a day. To work and back.”

“And yoga class?”