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He reconsidered and kept it professional. “Auditing?”
Her laughter, low and throaty—sounding a lot like warm bourbon on an icy cold evening—rolled from her. “No, I just wanted to check out the hot teacher.” She winked, then pivoted and strolled out of his wet dreams…
Strolled?
More like sauntered. Checking his desire, he focused on the way her hips swayed in those skin-tight denim jeans. He knew that walk. Had been hunting for it for two years…
“Hey,” he called, shoving the papers into his backpack and zipping it closed. He crossed the room in four strides to catch her. She didn’t slow down, but since he had her in his sights for the first time since Nigeria, no way did he plan on letting her walk away.
What was she doing in his classroom?
“Hey,” he said again. Catching her elbow, he redirected her into another empty lecture hall then closed the door to block the noise. “Where are you running off to?”
Lips pursed, she gave the closed door a glance. “I wasn’t running anywhere.” If her looks hadn’t already captivated him, the hot buttered rum quality of her voice would have taken him hostage. His cock stiffened as his libido bucked his control.
His body didn’t give a damn whether she was a student or not.
Definitely not a student.She didn’t hold herself as a subordinate or as a student would, seeking his approval. He’d had a few come on to him in the past, their sloppy, over-the-top attempts were porn quality, and he didn’t screw kids. Miss Walking Sex on a Stick was definitely a woman. “Good,” he said, remembering he actually needed to talk. “How do you feel about coffee?”
“Well, I’d never kick it out of bed.” She folded her arms, which tightened her sweater over her breasts—a handful each. His obsession with her tits aside, he didn’t miss the tension in her shoulders or the way she braced her feet.
She’s ready for a fight, if it comes to that.Probably didn’t help that he loomed over her. Taking a step back, he leaned against the door. No, he wasn’t demanding, but he didn’t want her running away again either.
Curiosity flared in her eyes. Oh, had he intrigued her?
“Good to know.” He needed to jumpstart the blood flow back to his brain. “I know a great place on the other side of campus. It’s quiet. Let me buy you a cup?”
Surprise rippled across the surface of her eyes. “Do you often invite students out for coffee?” Was that a note of disappointment creeping into her voice?
“Not at all. But you’re not a student.”
“You sound certain.” Her chin lifted. If he were a betting man, he’d peg it as another move to distract him. The action revealed the slender column of her throat and added to the air of vulnerability around her.
Keeping his gaze on her eyes, he trusted his instincts. Nothing about her was as it appeared. Well, other than the fact she was fucking gorgeous and intrigued him on every level. “You wanted to check out the hot teacher. How about taking a closer look?” He dropped the backpack and took a step toward her.
Eyebrows raised, she met him step for step until they were breast to chest. He kept his hands to himself, though they itched follow the shape of those lovely hips. Maintaining a fist hold grip on his restraint, he took a deep breath of her heady vanilla scent. He’d never been a fan of sweets.
She could make him a convert.
With two fingers, she walked her hand up his chest. Every touch acted like flame on the ropes securing his control, fraying it. The urge to strip her naked and sink his cock into her became a driving imperative.
Five minutes into their interaction and he wanted to fuck? Definitely a new record.She’s got secrets.The woman had been in Miami when Jennings died, and later he’d seen her at the consulate in Nigeria. Was he her next target?
There are worse ways to go…
Temptation trumped caution. He swooped his head down, pausing just above her lips. Before he could ask the question, she rose on her tiptoes to meet him. Slanting his mouth over hers, he snaked an arm around her back and dragged her in. The wicked taste of her left him drunk and desperate for more. When she fisted his hair and met the sweep of his tongue with her own, he stopped trying to talk himself out of wanting her.
Savoring the way her tongue tangled with his in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, he ran his hands over her hips, cupped her ass, then hauled her closer. Gliding beneath the fabric of her shirt, he explored the hot skin of her back.
A distant—too distant—part of his mind cheered at the lack of weapons. No blade. No gun. Just a hot, willing, soft woman. Then her teeth grazed his lower lip. The sting drew blood, and he pulled back.
Her dilated pupils were far from the remote, watchful tease they’d been earlier. “What the hell are you doing?” Despite the question, or maybe because of it, she had his shirt and jacket fisted in her hands. His shirt hung open. He hadn’t been alone in the frisking.
“I’m getting ready to fuck you. What are you doing?” Some rational part of his mind stood aside, appalled. He’d been brought up to respect women. To take her out on a date, wine her, get to know her, and then maybe pursue some heavy petting. Three dates, according to his father. No less than three before he touched anything under a woman’s clothes.
The room was private and the cameras were outside, not in the lecture halls. He didn’t even know her name. What thehellwas he doing?
Stroking her tongue over her lower lip, she studied him. He had the distinct impression she took his full measure, weighing him against some impossible scale. Stroking her nails from his chest to his navel, she whispered. “Considering your offer.”