Elite Metal-ARE-epub (47 page)

Bless smartphones.They make my work so much easier…

Chapter Two

With eighty students piled into their seats, it would be hard for most professors to keep track of who was who. The sign-in sheet always began a rotation in a different part of the hall. Everyone signed in, and if their name wasn’t on the sheet—depending on when he passed it around—they didn’t get credit for attending
International Relations in Business
.

Unfortunately for his students, Gabriel Danvers never forgot a face. He knew which students had their friends sit in or when one of the guys switched his jacket and move surreptitiously to the other side of the room to sign in for a missing classmate. He damn well noticed when a woman entered the class who didn’t belong.

Three rows back from the front, her feet propped on the back of another chair, hair in a ponytail, and looking about twenty with her cosmetic free face, his lecture hall had an invader. Phone in hand, she typed swiftly with her thumbs while he lectured on the pros and cons of the environmental restrictions on European Union business contracts, prosperity and how those factors influenced American businesses in the region.

Though he let his gaze wander over the class, making eye contact with the students as he paced back and forth, his awareness of
her
never diminished. Keeping track of her from the corner of his eye whenever he glanced away told him three things.

She wasn’t one of his usual students or shills—she’d not even bothered to sign the sheet.

She took copious notes, but she also snapped pictures.

She wanted something from him.

Call it instinct or a sixth sense, but he’d always had a way of looking at scattered facts and identifying a pattern. Her attention was on him, not the material, and her focus belied her casual attitude. She watched without looking, and the weight of her attention proved a provocative allure to his senses.

He looked forward to discovering whatever she wanted. His body stirred, and he ignored the bolt of lust.
No idea who she is besides, fucking students is not on the syllabus.
The thought came out of nowhere, and he coughed once to clear his throat. The corner of her pale pink decorated mouth curved upward. Amusement gleamed in her pale, pale green eyes.

The little vixen knew exactly what she was doing to him. Pausing at the desk, he leaned against it and stretched his legs. Two could play that game, he kept the lecture going as he braced his legs. The urge to ease his stiffening cock to one side grew more profound, but he focused on her. Memorizing her face.

He was damn good with faces.

The deep tan of her skin reminded him of a sweet, creamy coffee. Enticing image aside, she had a perfectly balanced and asymmetrical face, but he couldn’t place her origins. Not easily. A faint tilt to her eyes, high cheekbones and a deliciously sensuous mouth…

“So, here’s your assignment,” he said, finishing his lecture and dragging his attention away from the siren summoning him in the third row. Ignoring the groans, he used his thumb to point at the board behind him. “Six companies are listed there. Three are European Union based, three are U.S. based. Using the lecture and your materials, not only do you need to identify which is which, I also want you to identify who is in violation of those restrictions and what are possible ramifications for the upcoming Conference on International Commerce.”

The groans increased in volume, and he smiled. They really should learn he didn’t mention items, places or events if they weren’t important.

“Any questions?” Oddly, no hands went up. His gaze collided with the goddess in the third row, and she made no attempt to disguise her continued amusement. Another minute dragged on and the class didn’t ask any questions, so he clapped his hands together. “I’ll see you next week. Don’t forget my office hours if you have questions.”

Would she stay? Or would she go?

Swinging around the desk, he gathered his notes and the papers the class handed in at the beginning. He knew he annoyed them by requiring print copies rather than digital submissions. The horror of figuring out how to use control-P on their computers must have been a challenge.

Warm vanilla sugar teased his nose.
She stayed.
Glancing up from the papers, he found her standing just three feet away, directly across the desk. How sturdy was the construction of the desk? It wouldn’t take him any time at all to clear it.

Student. Red. Fucking. Light.
Intellect versus instinct. She looked young, almost fresh-scrubbed innocence, but her eyes weren’t innocent. They harbored far too much hidden emotion, as though she’d seen hell and survived. Locking gazes, he considered all the things he wanted to say.

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 it 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 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 the
hell
was 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.”

The tension cording his spine relaxed. “My name is Gabriel.”

“I know your name, Professor.” She circled one of his nipples then leaned in and the whisper of her breath was his only warning before the gentle bite of her teeth. The electric contact pulsed a high-speed connection to his cock.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he found the band confining the mass into a ponytail and tugged it free. Flicking the band across the room, he stroked through the wild profusion of curls and waves. He’d thought it red in Nigeria, and it had been sleeker in Miami, but it poured over his hands like wild coppery fire. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

Tipping her head back, she surveyed him from beneath lowered lashes. “What do you want it to be?”

The truth would be nice, but if he started down the interrogator path, their very promising encounter would not end well. Catching the hem of her sweater, he gave a tug and she lifted her arms obediently. He dragged the sweater up, then used it to pin her arms, effectively locking them behind her. “I want it to be
your
name.”

At the maneuver, the sleepy desire in her eyes sharpened.
Well, hello kitten…
Teeth and claws. God, he had a hard-on for her that wouldn’t quit. Taking his life in his hands, he slanted his mouth over hers and took the next kiss. She opened to him, allowing the thrust of his tongue.

She tasted sweeter than the vanilla of her scent—decadent, rich and altogether hedonistic. Another nip, then she sucked on his tongue and he damn near came in his pants. One moment he had control, the next she had him slammed against the door, face first, with her forearm against the back of his neck. He’d never been into being thrown around by a woman, but when she proved herself more than capable, it simply turned him on more.

The soft sound of her chuckle teased his ear, then she nibbled a kiss against his earlobe. With a breathy murmur, she said, “Games are fun, Professor, but you want to touch, yes?”

No need to lie. “Hell yes.”

“So do I.” As if to prove her point, she slid her hands down his front to stroke his cock through his slacks. He hardened obligingly. At this rate, he wouldn’t have any blood left to get oxygen to his brain and he didn’t think it was a bad thing. Her breasts rubbed against his back, the twin hardened points of her nipples a provocative invitation. “Don’t try to bind me again, and I won’t break you in two, sound good?”

More than good, but he still wanted. “What’s your name?” He found the lock on the door and turned it. The rear entrance was only accessible by key, and no other classes were scheduled for a couple of hours.

“Pushy.” Not a complaint based on the way her hand fisted him, the hard strokes definitely a threat to whether he’d get to sink into her before he came. Catching her hand with his, he twisted around and traded places. He wanted to see her breasts.

“A name for a kiss?” he challenged. “Or a caress?” Then in a repeat of her earlier move, he covered her breast and massaged it through the bra. Her peaked nipple responded beautifully to his touch. The black bra was utterly functional and completely lacking in lace. It also covered her breast, hiding it from view.

Unhooking a woman’s bra was a skill he’d mastered in high school. Who knew how much of a Godsend it would be at this moment? She shed the bra and stood glorious, and…scarred. A cluster of three puckered marks formed a near perfect triangle over her right breast. Tracing the marks, he followed a fainter mark tucked along the curve of her breast—knife injury.

Even as he catalogued the injuries, he explored the expanse of soft flesh. Cupping her breast, he rolled his thumb back and forth over the hardened tip of her nipple. Her breathing grew shallower and, dragging his gaze up, he zeroed in on her damp mouth before meeting her gaze. Her shudder seemed to ripple over his spine and, when she went for his belt, he didn’t argue.