Forbidden Fruit (4 page)

She was shivering all over. And before she had a chance to think about it, he was whispering, “Come on, Mia Rose. Taste this.” And she opened her mouth and let him slide the fork right in.

It was sweet and tart on her tongue; she couldn’t suppress a small sigh of pleasure.

“I knew you’d like it. Have some more.”

He fed her another piece, then took a bite himself, using the same fork. It seemed an intimate gesture, somehow. And she became momentarily obsessed with the fact that the fork had been in his mouth, then in hers as he fed her one more bite.

He stopped to take a sip of his coffee and she realized how utterly lost she was. Straightening up, she gave herself a mentallshake, sipped her own coffee. She was being ridiculous.

“So, um, Jagger…you’ve spent some time in New Orleans?”

“Yeah, every summer growing up, sometimes at spring break. Sometimes at Christmas. I go back every chance I get. My dad still plays at this club in the French Quarter most weekends. Goes on tour once in a while with some of the big-name acts. I love it there. It’s my second home.”

He paused, picked up a dark, succulent berry, and popped it into his mouth, in between those lush lips.

They seemed even more lush framed by the dark goatee, something she’d always loved on a man.

Mia watched, fascinated, as he licked his thumb, his forefinger. She shivered, a small chill running over her skin.

He went on. “The rest of the time I was with my mother, in Berkeley. She’s an artist, a painter. I guess I’ve had a pretty bohemian life. Mom took me to Paris when I was ten. I think she hoped I’d become an artist, like her. And my dad was always trying to get me to play an instrument. Sent me a drum set for my thirteenth birthday.” He paused, grinned. “Mom was not thrilled. But I just never had it in me, I guess. I found my art in food.”

Another shiver went through her. If he only had any idea what those words did to her…

“What about you?” he went on. “Where did you grow up?”

“Oh, I…” She never knew what to say when people asked her this sort of thing. She hadn’t even told Karalee, her closest friend, the whole story. But then, she hadn’t ever let anyone quite that close, had she?

“Well, my mom and I moved around a lot untillI was thirteen. Then I came to San Francisco to live with my grandmother.”

“Are you close with her? Your grandmother?”

“I was.” A small stab of pain went through her that never seemed to quite go away. “She’s been gone for two years.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked at him then. There was sincerity on his face. He reached out and laid his hand on her wrist.

Heat shot through her like a small stroke of lightning.

She shuddered. “Jagger…” She looked down at his hand touching her, back at his face.

“Oh, sorry.” He pulled his hand back. “I’m being inappropriate again, am I?” But he was smiling at her.

She sipped her coffee, set it down on the table. “So, Jagger, if you’re a chef, why are you in schoollnow?”

“Good question.” He picked up his cup, his fingers unexpectedly tense around the handle for a moment, his eyes on the table. Then he loosened all over and settled back into the sofa cushions, his pose casual, relaxed. Maybe she had imagined that moment of tension? “I worked in kitchens since I was fifteen. I’d always wanted to cook. I went to schoollfor it, got my own kitchen in some really great restaurants. But after a while, doing it every day,
having
to cook, took all the joy out of it for me. Working in a professionallkitchen is unbelievably fast-paced. Not that I mind working hard. But there wasn’t one minute in the day where I could really stop and
taste
anything, you know? So about a year ago I decided to go back to school. Just a few classes at first. Then I quit cooking altogether and came back full-time.”

“What are you studying?”

“I’m going for a psychology degree. This is my last semester at State, then I’ll transfer to U.C. Berkeley to get my master’s. In fact, I only have your class and one other I take on Thursday mornings to fulfill my requirements before I move ahead. I left some of my electives for last.”

“I don’t understand how you’re old enough to have had one career already and be ready to move on to another.”

He leaned toward her, moving closer. “I’m old enough, Mia Rose. For anything.”

His tone was pure seduction. She couldn’t help but respond to it, her skin going warm all over. And she couldn’t help but ask as she avoided his gaze, “How old, Jagger?”

“Twenty-six.” He paused, keeping quiet for a few moments. Then he said quietly, “I’m not some eighteen-year-old kid, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

Doesn’t matter anyway.

“Okay. I mean, I knew you weren’t eighteen,” she stammered.

It did matter, damn it.

She was an idiot.

“It’s just coffee, right, Mia Rose? Nothing inappropriate. Although I have to say, I’d like there to be.”

“Jagger…”

“I won’t lie. I think you’re beautiful. Smart, obviously. I admire you. And I’m very, very attracted to you.”

“Jagger, I’m seven years older than you are. And I’m your professor. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

Her insides were absolutely melting. It took everything she had to push those images of him with his hands on her from her mind.

He leaned forward, took her hand in his. Heat swarmed over her skin. “What we’re doing here right now is perfectly innocent. But I’d be lying if I said that’s all I wanted.”

She yanked her hand back, every alarm in her body, in her brain, clanging at full volume. She stood up, grabbing her purse and briefcase. “I have to go.”

He stood up, too, towering over her. “Please don’t. I don’t mean to come off so strong. I just wanted to be honest with you—”

“Don’t be. I have to go,” she repeated.

She turned and made her way through the overstuffed couches, the low tables, and pushed through the door.

Outside it had grown cooler, but the air did nothing to calm her burning cheeks. She knew this was wrong; she never should have come. And her body was absolutely on fire.

She wanted him. Impossible to deny. And the longer she sat next to him, talked to him, the more intense that yearning had become.

You can’t have him, so you might as welllget over
it.

But how could she, if she had to face him in class three nights a week? Three nights when she had to go home alone, his face fresh in her mind. So that when she touched herself in the dark, it was his image that tempted her, tortured her, untillher body screamed with the need for release.

As it did right now.

No.

This was crazy, and it had to stop. And she wasn’t entirely certain that if he invited her to spend time with him again, she would be able to resist.

Jagger James was irresistible. That was the only thing she was absolutely certain about.

He felt bad. He hadn’t meant to chase her away.

Jagger picked up his coffee and sipped the last of it before he bent to pick up the nearly empty plate of torte. He paused, lifted the fork to his lips, licked the bit of sweet custard clinging to the tines, where her mouth had been only moments before. Lust surged through him. That mouth of hers, that pouting red mouth in an otherwise innocent face.

She’d been angry; he’d seen it in the flash of her green eyes. Looking back, he supposed he couldn’t blame her. He’d come on a little strong, maybe. But he wasn’t into playing games. And he wanted her like crazy. Jerking off hadn’t helped, no matter how many times he did it, stroking himself untillhe came into his fisted hand. His cock hardened at the thought.

Fuck, have to get out of here. Go home and do it
again.

It wouldn’t help. He knew that. He was twenty-six years old, for God’s sake. He could have hard-on after hard-on, no problem. Except that it was getting to be a problem, with Mia Rose.

She was his professor, and the only way to get around that was to drop the class. But he didn’t want to do that, especially this close to graduation, just because he was hot for his teacher.

Hot didn’t even begin to describe it. He was fucking obsessed with her, and he knew it. He just didn’t know why.

She had secrets, that woman. He could see it in the tight bow of her shoulders when he asked about her family. Fascinating. People always did fascinate him, hence his study of psychology. Her secrets only made her more tempting.

Not the kind of woman he really needed in his life right now. Not after the promises he’d made to himself when Elena had left. He always fell too damn easily, he knew that.

Not that he was falling for Mia Rose.

No, all he wanted was to sleep with her. Spend a little time with her. Nothing more. No expectations.

No opening himself up to be fucking crushed again.

He was done with that. That’s how he’d been operating for the last year. Finally his father’s son.

Something for Dad to be proud of. Even if Jagger wasn’t entirely proud of himself.

But he’d learned his lesson after Elena. He’d spent this year learning to protect himself. He wasn’t falling for a woman again anytime soon. And definitely not a woman like Mia Rose. A woman with secrets.

Yeah, get what he needed from her,
needed,
damn it, then walk away. He knew what he had to do.

Why did he have a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to walk away from Mia Rose Curry?

KARALEE BRACED HER HAND ON A PIPE

ABOVE HER HEAD, holding herself up as she rode Gideon, her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands were on her hips, digging into her flesh as he pistoned into her.

“God, Gideon, harder!”

Pleasure swam through her veins with every luscious thrust. The single lightbulb hanging overhead barely illuminated his strong features, just enough that she could see the desire on his face: his mouth soft, his brown eyes intense.

“Fuck, Karalee. I’m going to come.”

His panting breath matched her own as he shoved her back harder into the wall. He slipped a hand between them, pressed hard onto her clitoris.

“Yes, just like that, Gideon…”

She bucked her hips into his hand, her clit swollen and pulsing with need. And his powerfullcock drove into her, impaling her, over and over. The tension in her body built, crested, and in moments pleasure flooded her, centering in her throbbing clit, spreading through her sex, her breasts, her entire body as she came. Gideon clamped a hand over her mouth as she cried out. She loved it.

“Christ, Karalee, someone will hear you.”

But she didn’t care.

And in moments he was tensing, shivering, panting her name as he came inside her. Jesus, they hadn’t even used a condom. What was she, some slutty teenager?

But she’d loved every second of it. Loved the way they’d passed in the hallway, stopping to talk for mere moments before he’d grabbed her and dragged her into the janitors’ closet, kissed her breathless as he stripped her panties from beneath her skirt and plowed into her.

She was trying to catch her breath, Gideon’s flesh softening inside her.

“Jesus, Gideon.”

“Yeah.”

He was still panting, his breath coming in soft gasps.

And he was still standing, one hand braced against the wall behind her, the other under her ass, holding her up. He caught her gaze, his eyes that smoky, sexy brown that had caught her attention the moment she’d seen him, when he’d been introduced at the first staff meeting of the semester two weeks earlier.

The new dean of the History Department. She’d loved his tall, lean form right away, those square, masculine features, even the bit of gray at his temples, in sharp contrast to his nearly black hair.

He looked like some classic movie star to her. But mostly it was his eyes: dark, hooded, sexy as hell.

They were locked on her now. He reached up and stroked her cheek with his thumb, a surprisingly tender gesture. Her heart gave a sharp squeeze.

Come on, Karalee. This was nothing more than
hot, spontaneous sex.

Dangerous sex, which only made it better. But she was as turned on as she’d ever been in her life. By him. By the taboo nature of what had just happened, the fact that at any moment, someone could have opened the closet door and found them. And it was even better that they’d hardly ever even spoken before, had never done more than exchange a few words, a few flirtatious glances. That he’d known in some mysterious way she wanted this, wanted him, simply seeing him in the hall today.

Lifting her, he pulled out of her, zipped his fly. Her legs were a little shaky, and she had to stand there and breathe for a moment as she pulled her skirt down. He handed her discarded panties to her and she stepped into them. She wished he’d say something.

Gideon smoothed back his dark hair with one hand.

She noticed then the faint five o’clock shadow on his jaw. Sexy. Like everything else about him.

“So. I’ll see you around campus, Karalee.”

He straightened his shirt, flashed her a smile, opened the door to the closet, and walked out.

Jesus! He was just going to leave her standing there with that for a parting line?

Her heart was still thudding in her chest, her body still buzzing with orgasm. She ran her hands over her hair, her face. She wished she had her purse with her. She was going to have to walk out of this closet with no idea of what she looked like.

What the hell had she just done?

But she was smiling as she shook her head, smoothed her skirt down, tucked in her blouse, and drew in a deep breath. This was ridiculous.

Dangerous. And the most thrilling thing that had happened to her in a very long time.

Perhaps ever.

She wanted it to happen again. But the way he had simply left her there, without talking about what they’d done, she had no idea what would happen next, if anything. It was frustrating as hell. Yet some small part of her was as absolutely thrilled by the uncertainty of it as she was by everything else about him, about this experience.

She really ought to have her head examined.

Karalee cracked the door open and peered out into the hall. Empty, thank God. Slipping out, she headed for the ladies’ room to wash her face, pull herself together. That was going to be a challenge, though.

Because sex with Gideon Oliver had left her head in as much chaos as it had her body.

Mia pulled into the campus parking lot, cursing her luck. If she didn’t get to schoollearly enough, she always ended up here, at the lot farthest from her classroom.

She pulled her purse and her briefcase from the backseat and grabbed her coffee thermos before she locked the door. Dark and strong with plenty of milk and three sugars. The sweet coffee was a treat she used when she was nervous or bothered by something. Just like her mom had when she was a kid. Of course, the sugar load may have been more about the drugs her mother did than anything else; heroin addicts were famous for their sugar cravings.

But she really didn’t want to think about her mother right now. She sipped the hot liquid, willing her pulse rate to slow. Why was she so scattered today?

As she started the walk toward the humanities building, her cell phone rang. It took a moment to dig it out of her purse.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mia, it’s Karalee.”

“Hi. How are you?”

As she skirted the edge of another parking lot, she noticed a construction crew working, muscular men in white tank tops, sweating in the muggy air, their arms and shoulders cording as they worked. Her nipples tightened as one of them leaned into a jackhammer, worn blue jeans pulling taut over muscled thighs.

Nice.

She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering Jagger’s scent, the heat of him sitting next to her…

Why was she so man-crazy suddenly?

“Sorry, Karalee, what was that?”

“I said I had sex with Gideon Oliver the other night.”

“The new dean? Do you even know him?”

“No, I don’t.” Karalee paused. “We had sex in a janitors’ closet at school.”

“Well, that makes my problems seem minor. How was it?”

“It was amazing. Probably the hottest sex I’ve ever had. We ran into each other in the hallway. And he just looked at me and it was this sort of surreallmoment, and he said ‘come with me,’ and I did. He pulled me in there, stripped my underwear off, and shoved me up against the wall. We didn’t talk about it. We didn’t talk about anything. It just happened.”

“Wow.”

“I know. I had to tell someone, Mia.”

“How did things end?”

“That’s the strangest part. After, he just zipped up and left. Like it was no big deal.”

“Maybe it wasn’t, to him. I’m sorry, Karalee.”

“No, it’s fine.” She lowered her voice. “Because, to be perfectly honest, I loved that. That we just did it without any working up to it first. But part of me wanted him to at least ask for my number. How juvenile is that?”

“It’s not. I’d probably feellthe same way.”

“You know how I am about men. It’s not that I want a relationship. But just to have him ask…but again, that part of it was hot, too. So, you’re the sex expert.

What does this say about me? That the best sex of my life was with a virtuallstranger, in a place where we could have been caught? That even though I’ve always been the one in charge with a man, what I loved most about this thing with Gideon was the way he completely took over?”

“I’m sorry, Karalee. I can’t even figure myself out right now.”

“That guy again, Mia? Your student?”

“Again. Still.” She shifted her purse and took a sip from her thermos. “I saw him. Jagger. I went to coffee with him.”

“Jesus, Mia. Is that a good idea?”

“Of course it’s not. But I couldn’t not do it. I don’t seem to have a lot of controllwhere he’s concerned.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Mia shrugged. She really didn’t want to get into it, even with Karalee, the first close friend she’d had in ages. It was too hard to open herself to people in that way. It always had been. With anyone but her grandmother, and she’d been gone for two years.

She was out of practice.

“He’s just…incredibly attractive.”

“Mia, maybe I’m way off base here, but you’re not the kind of woman to have her head completely turned by a guy just because he’s attractive. You’ve always struck me as someone who operates on logic.”

Then, when Mia didn’t answer, “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it. But you might want to spend some time thinking about it.”

“I will.”

She had better think about it, figure it out. Because spending time with Jagger was taking a foolish risk with her career. And if she was going to take a risk, she had damn well better know what she was taking that risk for. A sexy smile just wasn’t good enough.

But she knew there was more to him than that. So much more after spending time with him last night.

Dangerous.

Oh yes. He was dangerous. But just as it was for Karalee, the danger was part of the attraction.

“I don’t think I’ll see him again, Karalee. Other than in class.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Mia nodded to herself.

No, she wouldn’t see him again. Even though this sort of thing really did happen all the time, professors sleeping with their students. Even though the mere idea of it made her shiver, lust surging through her system.

She would not risk her career over this good-looking boy. But she knew that was a lie she was using to placate her sense of guilt. Because Jagger was no boy. He was all man. He made every girlish part of her go soft and hot. Something she hadn’t felt for far too long. And she had to admit, it felt good. Maybe too good to fight.

Mia could barely concentrate. Jagger sat in the front row, watching her. Thank God she planned to show a film.

She cleared her throat. “Today we’re going to see a documentary piece about the primitive culturallpractices which a number of fetishes are based on.

I’m sure many of you have heard the term ‘body manipulations.’ For those of you who haven’t, this term refers to piercing, implanting metallobjects beneath the skin, stretching or binding certain body parts, any way in which the body is manipulated to appear different from its naturallform. Today you’llsee where these practices originate and also some of the people who practice these rituals, including Fakir Musafar, who is known as the master of body manipulations. We’re going to see some extreme material: branding, skewering, the use of flesh hooks. Please try to keep an open mind, to let go of any preconceived notions. And when comparing the primitive practices to the modern, remember some of the things you read in this week’s chapters about trance states, because that state of mind applies to both the modern and ancient practices.”

She let her gaze range over the classroom, carefullnot to catch Jagger’s eye. But he was there at the edge of her sight. She could
feel
him.

“I don’t happen to have any footage of it, but studies have been done in which the brain waves of meditating Buddhist monks were measured and compared against people practicing these sorts of body manipulations. The results were shockingly similar. The brain responds in the same way, whether that state of nirvana is produced through hours of meditation or by being pierced and hung from hooks embedded in the skin. As I’ve mentioned before, and will reiterate over and over during the semester, it’s all about what goes on in people’s heads, how our minds work.”

“So, you’re saying that sexuality is a mentallprocess?” Jagger asked. “What about chemistry, Professor?”

She willed the heat from her skin, willed herself not to be shaken by his words, by the sound of his voice.

“Of course chemistry plays an enormous role in sexuallattraction. But I’m talking about how people endure certain practices.”

“If a person is turned on, then, they can do things they might not do otherwise?”

God, yes.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the wooden podium.

“Yes, I would have to agree with that. Though most people have enough good judgment not to simply follow their urges without any thought for the consequences.”

What the hell was she talking about?

Get back on track.

“Why don’t we start the film? We can discuss this more later. Alex, will you please turn off the lights?”

The room went dark and she moved her chair to one side of the room. Not nearly far enough away from him. As the narrator’s voice began to drone, she lost all focus on what was happening on-screen. All she could think about was
him
sitting a few feet away in the dark, his silhouette in the flickering half-light.

Hyperaware of his presence, there was too much time to let her mind drift into dangerous territory. To imagine his hands on her, his mouth. To imagine him cooking for her, feeding her as he had at the café…

Her body began to heat. Even worse when she looked up to see him glancing over at her. When he smiled, her thighs grew damp, her breasts aching.

She looked away, shifted in her chair, desperately thirsty suddenly.

Keeping her eyes on the film, she watched as hundreds of people in Malaysia marched toward the temple caves of Kuala Lumpur during the annuallfestivallof Thaipusam, a sinuous, surging traillof humanity. Many of their bodies and faces were pierced by long skewers called
vels,
decorated with peacock feathers, beads, colorfullbits of cloth, an act of sacrifice to the gods. She’d seen this film dozens of times before, but now the writhing mass of bodies seemed utterly sensuallto her.