Page 74 of Duplicitous
I gape at him. “You should be the one begging. You’re practically panting after me. I’m your student,Professor.”
That wicked smirk makes my heart skip a beat.
“I think I like when you call me that. It has the proper air of authority.”
I roll my eyes and try to pretend I’m not turned on by his arrogance.
“What happened to you wanting me to call youRand? I thought you preferred it overProfessor Asshole.”
One long finger presses against my lips, and I’m shocked into silence for a traitorous moment.
“JustProfessorwill do,” he drawls. “Unless you want to add to your punishment?”
“I suggest you remove your finger if you don’t want to get bitten.” My warning is too breathy.
His other hand shifts, and his fingers slide into my hair, gripping gently.
“Tell me you want to stop.” He’s not taunting me; it’s a low reassurance.
If I saystopnow, he’ll back off.
My hand is still on his chest, and my fingers curl into his shirt.
“I thinkyou’rethe one who doesn’t want to stop. Maybe you do want to be the one to beg.”
His low chuckle is darkly sensual. “We both know you wouldn’t like that.”
“You don’t know me,” I shoot back, but my retort is ruined when my breath hitches.
“I know you well enough. Don’t worry. I’ll more than earn my kiss. You will suffer for it.”
I glance down pointedly at his erection, and I have to fight the urge to swallow hard. Even against his trousers, I can tell he’s huge.
“I think you’re the one suffering right now,” I manage to quip.
“Oh yes,” he agrees, not at all abashed. “Do you want to be punished for that too? For making me ache for you?”
Honeyed warmth pools low in my belly: lust and feminine gratification.
I lick my lips, and his fingers tighten in my hair. His free hand hooks beneath my jaw to trap me in place.
I go utterly still, completely transfixed. His head dips toward mine, cruelly slow.
I’m practically trembling for him by the time his heated words caress my mouth.
“You’re aching too. But not nearly enough. Not yet. You can stop me at any time. Tell me you understand.”
“This is insane,” I say weakly.
“Don’t you dare say we can’t. We both want this. I’m tired of fighting it. Aren’t you?”
“That doesn’t mean it’s right.”
“I don’t give a fuck about what’s right. I just want you. Tell me you want me, Lena.”
Acting on animal instinct, I strain to tip my head back farther. His grip on my hair and face renders me immobile.
“I want you,” I whisper, giving in to the madness.
