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“Well…” He hugs me tight against his chest in a possessive way I love before reaching for his battered paperback. “It’s probably not the best one in the series, but when I got to it, Hutch took me to the store to get my very own copy.”
Sitting up, I take the book from him and shake it so the picture falls out. Lifting it up, I study his adorable little boy face in glasses, holding the giant book.
“Is this the day?”
His eyes warm, and he takes the photo from me. “That’s the one.”
Holding it a moment, he studies the faces in a way that makes my chest ache.
“It made an impression on me. It was the first one that went really dark,” he explains. “It was almost 700 pages long, which blew my mind. I’d never read a book that long—I didn’t even know they existed. Everything about it was just… big.”
“Look at you in your glasses.” My voice is soft. “I bet you were the cutest little boy walking around with that giant book. Adorable little nerd.”
“Hey,” he laughs, rolling us over so he can hold me down again. I don’t protest.
Again, our lips unite in hungry kisses. We can never get enough. We can’t stop touching each other, and even with that last fantastic fuck, I feel his hardness against my leg. It stokes the fire simmering in my lower belly, the one that never goes out for him.
Lifting his head, he looks deep into my eyes and asks the one question I can’t answer. “What are we doing? I went to Thornton to teach, not to find this… with a student.”
I know he didn’t, and my eyes slide closed. An invisible hand closes around my neck, but I answer truthfully. “I want this so much.”
He hears the hesitation in my voice. “But you’re just getting started with your life—”
“No,” My eyes meet his again. “It’s not that. It’s just… old business I need to settle.”
“Is it about your father’s death?” His brow lowers.
Blinking away, I nod. “And some other things. I can’t really talk about it.”
“Okay.” The tension leaves his voice, and he bends down to kiss me again. I love his kisses. “When you’re ready… maybe I can help you.”
Chewing my lip, I trace my fingers through his soft hair.
When I’m ready.
19
Reanna
Dirk is lyingon his back, fast asleep when I awake with a start. I know my phone went off, and I know what it means. I lie still a moment longer, making sure he’s completely out. His hands are on me, but it’s not hard to slide from under them and off the side of the bed.
Hesitating, I study his profile in the dusk, straight nose, full lips, square jaw dusted with a light scruff that drives me wild when his head is between my thighs. How I wish I could stay here and forget everything that brought me here.
He’s my dirty professor, my gorgeous nerd, my sexy cowboy, and another buzz on my phone tells me our time is up. Pushing my infatuation to the back burner, I carefully step into my black leggings and a long-sleeved navy sweater. Socks are on my feet, and I close the curtains around his bed.
Using the light on my phone, I tip-toe across his enormous loft apartment to his desk. It’s an incredible risk, but I have to search here. Sliding my fingers over the stack of papers and books on his wide-plank desk, I lift and open covers, read briefly and set aside, doing my best to search quickly without making any sound.
It doesn’t take long to go through everything on the desktop. Another, careful glance over my shoulder, and I have to go for the drawers. One on each side and a narrow one in the middle.
Holding my breath, I slide the first drawer open, only to find an assortment of wires and computer adapters. Shining my light to the bottom, nothing more is there. The narrow, middle drawer is essentially empty but for a stack of Post-Its, a few check stubs, and several twist-ties. I slowly open the last drawer, and my shoulders drop.
Power strips, a discarded keyboard, and two portable hard drives are inside. I’m sure they have valuable information on them, for someone or something, but none of this is the book I need. I slide the drawer closed and crouch lower, crawling beneath the desk and shining the light all around in case there’s a secret compartment or something taped under the desk.
Nothing.
I crawl out again and inspect the surface to be sure everything looks the same as it did when I got here. Returning to the bedroom area, I cross my arms, trying to decide my next move. It’s 4:00 a.m., and I have an idea.
Moving fast, I pack all my things in my bag and grab one of the Post-Its out of his desk. I quickly write a note saying I had to leave early and stick it on his phone. No texting—I don’t want to wake him.
