Professor

And then Lucian leaned in and kissed me softly, the scent and feel of him dragging a small moan from me. Never breaking the kiss, he slid his hand under the blanket, moved it along my belly, and slipped it between my thighs. I was already wet for him, so needy.

“Look at that,” he murmured against my mouth. “So ready for me.”

“Always,” I whispered.

And then he was moving on top of me, his big muscular body pressing me into the mattress, the weight of his power making me feel wholly feminine.

And it was the feel of him placing the tip of his erection at the entrance of my body, of him sliding deep within me in one fluid motion, that had everything becoming crystal clear.

We were one, and without Lucian I’d be nothing but a shell of a person. I felt that so profoundly that a tear track down the corner of my eye.

I held on to him, telling myself I’d never let go.

22

Grace

I sat on the living room floor, textbooks scattered around me, loose-leaf papers crumpled up in balls beside the small trash can I’d brought in. They were my notes, but tonight they sounded like gibberish to me, my mind so preoccupied I couldn’t concentrate.

I was studying for an exam, yet my mind wasn’t on any of this. My thoughts were consumed with Lucian, with everything we’d done, everything we shared.

It had only been a few days since he’d taken me to dinner and then back to his apartment, where he claimed my virginity and opened himself up to me. For the short amount of time we’d been seeing each other, I’d never felt closer to anyone in my entire life.

And yet I hadn’t known I’d been missing anything until that very moment when he looked into my eyes and told me he loved me.

I picked up one of the textbooks, brought my pencil to my mouth, and started chewing on the end as I read over the required reading. But still I couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate.

I don’t know how long I sat like that, but I found myself smiling intermittently every time I thought about being with Lucian, and the memory of how sore I’d been after he’d taken me.

A flush stole over me at those images of his big, hard body atop mine.

The sound of a car pulling into my driveway, then of a door opening and closing, had my heart racing. Of course it probably wasn’t him, not at this hour, but still I fantasized it was.

I walked out to the living room window and pulled the curtains aside, but it was too dark to see much of anything. And then the sound of three hard knocks on the front door had my heart racing. I looked out the peephole, feeling confusion at who stood on the other side.

When I opened it, the wide smile on my mother’s face had worry filling me right away. She held an overnight bag in her hand, the grin on her face looking forced.

“Surprise,” she said a little too enthusiastically.

“Mom?” I stepped to the side to let her in. I closed the door and faced her, leaning against it and just watching her, waiting for her to drop the bomb I knew she’d come here to drop.

Why else would she show up unexpectedly this late?

“Is everything okay?”

She looked around the small house that I called home while in school. “This place is cute, Grace.” She turned and faced me, but I could see her smile was still forced.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

She set her bag down. “What? I can’t surprise my daughter with a visit? “

I knew my expression was probably disbelieving.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you’ve never just shown up out of the blue, especially when it’s this late.” I could see the wall she’d built around herself start to crumble. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

She exhaled, and I saw her smile fade. A real expression of sadness, anger, hopelessness clung to her in that moment. I knew what this was about before she even said anything.

My father. Michael.

He and my mother had married young. They’d been high school sweethearts, and I knew from enough reminiscing from my mother over the years that my father had been her first everything.

First boyfriend.

First love.

First kiss.

First everything.

So when things had gone downhill, my mother had taken it hard. The divorce hadn’t been amicable. My father had up and left my mom, taking a good chunk of their savings, and running off with the woman who would become his new wife. He hadn’t given a second thought to how this would affect my mother; probably even thought I was old enough to “get through it.”

He’d tried to smooth things over with me, spouting off about being in love and wanting to start his life.