His gaze regarded her in seriousness, and the class around them was forgotten. Ember could feel the heat in her furiously burning cheeks, and his touch only barely helped to calm the flush. She felt as though she knew his touch but couldn’t place it. It was as if his entire person was sitting on the tip of her tongue. When his hands pulled back from her body, it was with a curious flinch of his brow.
“Are you okay?” His words, warm and purring, sounded seductive and left her body tingling with a reminiscence she didn’t understand.
Her nod was the very best she could manage under the circumstances, and as she felt for the desktop behind her and edged back into her seat, he watched her with his eyes glinting. He inhaled a deep breath at her retreat as if he wanted to pull her essence and scent back to him. She had to get a grip.
“Okay. Let’s get started. I’m Truman Solomon, and this is Western Civilization II. I’m a last-minute replacement for this class. I live and work in Boston, and I’m filling in here for the summer. Now’s your chance to grill me, so if you have questions, fire away.”
At his invitation, every female’s hand in the room, minus Ember’s of course, shot up. Eyelashes batted furiously, boobs stuck out, legs crossed and uncrossed, and five or six heads of hair got thrown about. Ember sat quietly watching the whole scene play out but still too mortified to speak. The handsome professor took it all in stride as he answered one question after another. Ember absorbed it all but stayed quiet.
He was an adjunct professor at Harvard who taught the majority of the history classes held in the evening. He was an antique and art dealer by day and bought and sold to some of the biggest auction houses on the Eastern seaboard, including Sotheby’s, Christie’s, Doyle and Skinner. He was not married, and no, he was not gay—yes, one of the floppy-haired pretty girls actually had the nerve to ask. Ember looked up often, unable in fact to stop herself from responding to his warm and soothing voice that invaded her head as he purred out his responses to every last question asked. When she looked, he always looked back. If his gaze wasn’t already on her, it found her quickly and held her own with ease and comfort. Her own naturally faltered every time, as though her eyes were scampering away like a scared puppy.
He was beautiful. There was no question of that, and the images of him doing terribly naughty things to her body wouldn’t stop plaguing her mind. Even when it was her turn to introduce herself to the class, she couldn’t stop the images of her own mouth pleasuring his body from floating through her mind as she met his eyes and willed her mouth to speak. She mumbled through her own introduction, and he refused to take his eyes off hers. When she sat, it was with an absolute refusal to speak, whisper, look up, or even breathe if she could help it for the remainder of the class. Her fantasies continued to toy with her as he reviewed the syllabus, and her body warmed at the thoughts that were so completely invading her mind.
She wondered just how it was that her overly naive brain could create such imaginary erotic scenes, and by the time he released them for the evening, she was certain there was a small puddle on the seat. As she rose to leave, ready to escape the intensity of his presence, he stopped her with his cool touch on her forearm. “Do you have a moment, Ember?” He remembered her name already; her uncharacteristically giddy heart soared.
“Sure.” She actually managed words this time.
As the last of the students filtered out and the door closed behind them, he started his vocal torture again that had her body trembling in want. “I just wanted to make sure your head was okay. That was quite a knock from the sound of it.”
She tried for a casual laugh, but it sounded more deranged than anything, and as her hand shifted to the bump that had formed, so too did his hand. His fingers laced with hers as he felt the same spot, and as his fingers ran over the bruised knot on the back of her head, she stared at his neck, moving her gaze up to his mouth as he continued to touch her. Her breathing was quick and flustered, and their bodies were so close they were nearly touching. She wanted to touch him, she wanted to taste his smooth skin, and as she stood still in front of him, the wetness continued to build. When she managed a glance, his gaze was already trained on her. And when he finally pulled his hand from her head, he took hers along with it, allowing the clasp of their fingers to last for a moment longer than necessary.
“I’ll walk you out.” His words were quiet, and he swallowed over a lump in his throat and looked away.
It was still early summer yet, and the evening was chilly and brisk. Always poorly dressed for the occasion, Ember hadn’t brought a jacket or even worn long sleeves, and as he took in her clothing as they walked from the building together, he commented, “You should have dressed warmer; it’s too cold for short sleeves.” The ease of his words, as though he knew her well enough to make this judgment, left a warmth and comfort in her soul. There was nothing offensive about his approach, but it was odd from a man whom she’d only just met. When they arrived at her old, beat-up Toyota, she looked back along the way they’d come and could have sworn he’d led her to this spot, rather than the other way around, but as he bid her good night and turned from her after one more seductive smile, she dismissed it.
He climbed into a sleek black Infinity SUV, and he watched as her clunker argued with her about starting. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It wasn’t until she’d pulled from her spot that he put his into drive and left the parking lot as well.
Not until many blocks later and after he turned off on his own side street did she utter her assessment of the night to no one except herself. “What the fuck was that?” Arriving home to her small apartment, she threw her clothes into the hamper and laid down naked on her bed with his image in her mind. She trailed her hand over her shape and contour, and when she reached her warmth, she was slick and sensitive. Finding inspiration and fantasy was no problem on this night, and as her mind gave her all the imagery she could need to feed her arousal, her fingers delved and stroked until she was crying out her release to her empty and lonely bedroom. She wanted him. The usually frigid and wary woman with her damaging past wanted a man. Too bad he was perfection in the flesh.
Truman had dreamed of talking to her again for the two years they had been apart. They had never truly been apart, but watching her from a distance and checking in on her wasn’t being together and certainly never felt that it was. He was more at ease than he had been since last leaving her. She suffered far more humiliation than he could stand seeing, but her mild concussion aside, he was in heaven just breathing the scent of her body again.
He could have unclouded her mind after the other students had left, but he’d only be forced to suppress her memories once again. He wanted this summer with her. Once a week, she would be forced to desire him and give off her subtle and heady scent of want and need for his pleasure. He would be forced to want her as well, and the agony of withholding her memories would torture him … but he just had to be close. He wanted her desperately to see him and know him. It was the only time he was truly at ease in her presence. He would take whatever contact he could get from her and be glad to have it, but he missed seeing his true self in her eyes. He missed not hiding from her. He missed being accepted by her. He was nothing more than a shadow when he had to hide himself from her.
He had bought an old restored carriage house in the West End neighborhood years ago when Ember first enrolled, but entering alone after spending the evening with her felt more lonely than every last quiet night alone since he’d last had her.