Forbidden Fruit (2 page)

She pushed the idea away before she had a chance to really examine it, opened the refrigerator, and took out a chilled bottle of Chardonnay, a nice white from the Napa Valley. She poured herself a glass and took it into the bedroom. Her big, antique brass bed looked all too inviting, with its fluffy, white down quilt and piles of pillows. Slipping out of her robe, she climbed in, intending to read. She sifted through the small pile of books on her nightstand; she tended to read severallsimultaneously. But nothing held her interest tonight. Instead, she found the remote and clicked on the television, flipped through the channels. No news, no talk shows. She wanted something peaceful, relaxing. She left it on the Food Channellwith the sound down, idly watching a man sautéing vegetables. He had strong-looking hands as he stirred them, chopped a handfullof chives, and added them to the pan. Nice. Even better when he started a sauce. Her body went warm, watching the sensuallglide of the liquid as the disembodied hands stirred it in the pan, imagined they were Jagger’s hands.

Her sex gave a sharp squeeze.

Why was she thinking of him? But then again, why not? She wasn’t in the classroom now. Surely there couldn’t be any harm in allowing herself to picture his face, his mouth…

Yes, his mouth, those full lips. What would they feelllike on her skin?

She ran her hands over her breasts. Not enough.

Unbuttoning her pajama top, she let the silk slide away, and smoothed her hands over her bare skin.

Her nipples went hard as she imagined his mouth there, licking, sucking.

Yes.

Suddenly her body was swarming with need. Her skin went hot, her sex clenched hungrily. She needed more.

Leaning over, she took her vibrator from the nightstand drawer, switched it on. The pink, textured phallus buzzed to life. She pulled off her pajama bottoms, lowered the vibrator between her thighs, and touched it gently to her damp cleft.

Oh, yes.

With Jagger’s face in her mind, she pressed a little harder, teased one hard nipple with the other hand.

Not enough, not enough…

She focused once more on the glow of the television, on the strong male hands stirring the sauce, pouring it over a dish.

Yes. Better.

Her body filled up with pleasure that quickly became an urgent stab of desire as she imagined it was Jagger’s hands pouring the silky sauce over her skin. Him licking it off.

Yes!

Her breasts ached, her sex ached. She moved both hands down between her legs, spread the lips of her sex, and circled her clitoris with the vibrator, then moved it to dip inside. Pleasure shivered through her system, building and building. She pressed the vibe a little harder, closed her eyes, and saw Jagger’s face hovering over hers. In her mind, it was his hands doing these lovely things to her. His mouth, yes, licking that sauce from her flesh.

Jagger, not Ben.

She’d always fantasized to the food images while thinking of Ben. Never anyone else. Never any other man untillnow.

She pushed all thoughts of Ben from her mind, feeling a little guilty. But her body needed Jagger now.

Needed
him.
Jagger.

Her body hovered on the edge, then she pressed the vibe hard against her clit, sending her tumbling over the edge.

She cried out as she came. And in her mind was a blur of hands and mouths, rubbing, sucking, licking, the flavors sweet and salty and pure sex. But it was all him. All Jagger.

And it felt too good for her to care.

Mia stuffed her notes into her brown leather briefcase after her Friday night Beginning Sociology class. She was looking forward to the weekend. It was always a bit of a shock to her system, the start of every semester. She’d need the weekend to shift gears in her head. And there was one subject she was really going to have to work on shifting: Jagger James.

She had to stop thinking about him. She’d come to class today, unsure as to how she could even look at him. Especially after he’d starred in her vivid, lustfullfantasy the night before, driving her to such an intense climax she was left shaking and weak. But he’d been missing from class.

Her body was heating up again just thinking about the previous night, how sharp her pleasure had been. How devastating.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and straightened up. Her nipples were hard, stimulated even by the caress of her sweater through the thin lace of her bra.

Yes, get home, get back into bed, and do it again.

“Hi.”

She turned around. “Oh. Hi.”

She could not believe he was standing there.

“Jagger. Um…what can I help you with?”

“I had to miss class today and I wanted to see if there was a reading assignment.”

“You can find out by looking at your syllabus.” She didn’t mean to sound so cold. A defensive gesture, she supposed. She was burning up inside, with embarrassment, the shock of finding him there when she’d just been imagining him doing lewd and lovely things to her body.

Christ, Mia, get a grip!

“Ah, yes. I suppose I could.” He had a deep voice, deep and husky. Like wood smoke and honey. “But I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

She could swear her sex was going damp, just being this close to him. He was even better up close.

His skin really was as smooth as milk chocolate.

“I wanted to know if we could have coffee sometime.”

Her breath stalled for a moment. “Coffee?”

“Coffee.” He shrugged. “And talk.”

“Jagger, I…you’re my student. It’s not a good idea. If you have questions about the class, I have office hours every Tuesday evening.”

“I do have questions, but they’re more…personal.”

He smiled down at her, that stunning flash of strong, white teeth that went through her like a small shock.

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her briefcase.

“We shouldn’t be having personallconversations.”

He leaned into the doorway, a casuallpose. “I disagree. Why don’t we try it and find out?”

“You’re very confident, aren’t you?”

“I always thought confidence was a positive trait.”

“It is. It’s just…”

She couldn’t even carry on a conversation with him!

What on earth was wrong with her?

He reached out then, laid his fingertips on her forearm. “Think about it. I’ll ask again.”

Heat shivered through her, and her mind blurred.

She shook her head.

“I can’t. I’m your teacher.”

“Yes, I know.” He leaned in, untillhe was only inches from her. She should back up, she knew, put some distance between them. But she couldn’t do it. “But we’re both adults,” he went on. “Think about it, Professor Curry. Mia Rose.”

He said her name softly. She couldn’t help that she loved the sound of it. She shook her head again.

“You should go now.”

“Alright. But I’ll be back.”

He smiled at her, turned, and walked away, leaving her dizzy with confusion. He would come back, she understood that. What she wasn’t clear about was whether or not she wanted him to.

He was too smooth, too charming. And so beautifullup close her fingers itched to touch him, just to brush her fingertips over his mouth.

God.

She was making it worse, letting herself think about things like this. But she couldn’t help herself. She was all twisted up inside where he was concerned, totally out of control.

Dangerous.

Why did that idea make her shiver inside?

That night she went home and went to bed, ordered herself to go to sleep. But later she woke in the dark, tangled in the sheets, dream images of him flickering still in front of her eyes. And her hand went between her legs. She rubbed her wet cleft, pressing the heellof her hand hard onto her clit, sinking two fingers deep inside her. And with Jagger’s face once more in her mind’s eye, she came into her hand, calling his name into the night.

Jagger paced the length of his loft apartment. He couldn’t seem to settle down, and it was well after midnight. He paused by one of the enormous windows and stared out over the city. San Francisco’s Mission District had a long history as the home to drug dealers, flophouses, and prostitutes, but buildings like his all over the downtown area were being bought and remodeled, old warehouses converted into loft apartments.

He’d been lucky to get this place. It was big, and it had a great view. He’d spent his entire savings buying the top-floor apartment and remodeling the kitchen. It had seemed important at the time, to have the dream kitchen. Even though after working in the restaurant business for too long, he’d lost the pleasure cooking had once given him. Too many long hours in the heat and the steam, cooking at such a frantic pace he didn’t have a moment to really think about what he was doing. Simply working like some sort of automaton. Like a trained dog. And there was nothing left at the end of the night but the hard scents of oilland garlic on his clothes. No reallsatisfaction. But it had seemed right to have a chef’s kitchen, anyway.

Mostly he ignored the kitchen these days, preferring to eat at one of the dozens of great locallhole-in-the-wall restaurants or with his downstairs neighbors, Jean and her partner, Leilani, who was a phenomenallcook. But he never tired of the view from every window in the apartment. He loved the lights of the city below him, even the neon of the club signs. It seemed like magic to him, the mood and the energy of the city caught in a colorfullsplash of light.

But tonight the view brought him no peace. His mind was too busy, full of images of Mia Rose Curry’s face. Her voice. Her scent.

Hell, he’d almost lost it earlier tonight standing next to her in the classroom. Her scent had hit him like a blow to the gut. Vanilla, but with an edge of some exotic spice. Good enough to eat.

He wanted her. Had to have her. He understood her concerns about the taboo nature of a relationship with him. But it didn’t have to be a relationship. He wasn’t in the market for a new relationship. Not anymore. Not after the last few disasters.

After Dana, he’d been able to bounce back. He’d fallen hard for her when he was starting college.

Love at eighteen was excruciating. Especially when she’d left to go to another schoollacross the country a year later. The hardest part had been that she didn’t seem all that upset over leaving him behind.

Elena had been harder. She’d been furious that he’d decided to give up his career. They’d had plans, and those plans hadn’t included him going back to schoollto get his master’s. What it had come down to was that she wasn’t willing to wait. A year later and he still had the ring in its velvet box in his dresser drawer.

No, he needed some time off. But that didn’t mean he had to go without female companionship entirely, did it?

A night, maybe two, a few weeks together. He was sure they could keep it under wraps. And the blast of energy coming off her, the heat rolling off her skin tonight, told him she wanted this as much as he did.

He had to feellher skin under his hands. Had to kiss that lush, little red mouth of hers. Red as ripe cherries, without a trace of lipstick on. And the green of her eyes against all those midnight-black curls, her skin pale as any Irish rose should be.

He loved the idea of the contrast of their skin, couldn’t get that image out of his mind. What would she feelllike beneath his hands? What would it take to break through that coollveneer she wore like armor?

The ringing of the telephone startled him, and he shook his head as he flipped his cell open.

“Speak.”

“Hey, Jagger, it’s Jean.” Jean and Leilani lived in one of the ground-floor apartments. They’d been together for years. And they’d been his best friends since he’d moved into the building just over a year ago. Right after his breakup with Elena.

“You still there, Jagger?”

“What? Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

“Leilani is doing one of her Hawaiian pig roasts tonight. Come on down and eat. We’re having a few people over.”

“I don’t know, Jean. I think I’m staying in tonight.”

“It’s Friday night.”

“Yeah. I have a few things to take care of. I’m just gonna lay low.”

“Is everything okay? You sound a little out of it.”

He ran a hand over his jaw. Was he okay? He wasn’t sure. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay. Maybe you’ll come by tomorrow for leftovers?”

“Sure, I might do that.”

“Good. Then you can tell us what’s up with you, because I can tell it’s something.”

“Come on, Jean. Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jagger. Have a good night.”

They hung up, and he tossed his cell phone on the couch. He was a little taken aback that Jean had heard something in his voice. That this thing with Mia Rose was affecting him so much. Enough to make him want to hide in his apartment. To make him think about his past relationships.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Restless, he moved across the wood plank floors, pausing to turn on the stereo. The soulfullsounds of Miles Davis filled the air, the old jazz his father, a musician himself, had taught him to appreciate during his summers in New Orleans. Those summers with his father had been all about music.

Music and the food that was unique to the Big Easy.

He paused a moment to appreciate a few sultry notes, then turned toward the bathroom, the only room in the apartment with full walls. He’d done the tile work himself, using gray slate on the floors and stone in the shower, on the counters. He loved the naturalllook of it, yet it had a stark, urban feellat the same time. Serenity and energy. Balanced.

He reached into the shower and turned the hot water on full blast, stripped down, then stepped in. He wanted the water, the warmth, to relax him. Instead, the heat of it only made him burn more inside. And all he could think of was having
her
in there with him, her naked skin pale against him. Even better, her wet flesh beneath the translucent fabric of a white cotton T-shirt.

Yeah.

His cock went hard, gave a jerk, and his hand went there, pressed on the shaft.

He leaned back against the wall, let the water fallover him. The shower had always been sensuallto him. He loved to shower with a woman, couldn’t do it without the sex. He had a reallthing for water, for seeing and feeling a woman wet all over.