Someone to Love (18 page)

“Why would I be upset? I’m always pleasantly
surprised to learn the person guiding me in the fine art of
physical debauchery is also employed as faculty at the school in
which I’m attending. I guess that makes you legit.” I don’t smile,
laugh, or leave any room for doubt concerning my slightly ticked
disposition.

God. It just occurred to me he’s probably
been using me for his thesis this entire time. No wonder he offered
to document my journey. I’ve unwittingly become exhibit K for
“Kenny.”

“So did I score a place on your thesis?” I
ask point-blank. “If an expose on my soon-to-be departed virginity
is going to be made available for publication, I should probably be
alerted to the fact. Unless, of course, you’re aware of some legal
loophole that will exempt you from any litigious endeavors I might
throw your way.” As if I would ever sue Cruise. Well, maybe for
being too damn sexy.

“I’ve yet to document your
‘soon-to-be-departed-virginity.’” His lids close halfway, letting
me know he can make my virginity depart a whole hell of a lot
sooner than I bargained for. And the way he’s leering at me, I
might be open to the idea. “I wasn’t planning on mentioning you in
my thesis, Kenny.” He presses out a dry smile. “And, as much as I
like to consider my foray in fornication as field study on some
level, I’ve collected more than my fair share of data. I’m turning
in the keys to the carnal kingdom.”

Turning in the keys? Maybe Cruise Elton
is
boyfriend material, or maybe he just wants me to believe
he is. This is all probably a ruse in the name of continuing his
promiscuous blind study.

“That’s too bad.” I strut in front of him
with an air of false confidence. “Rumor has it you hold a black
belt in arousing the female anatomy.” Did I just say that?

A husky laugh escapes his throat as he makes
his way over.

My stomach cinches at the thought of Cruise
using me all along as some sort of immoral barometer.

“So,” I whisper as he warms my senses with
his cologne, “I guess once I start sleeping around, I’ll be tearing
down all sorts of gender barriers.” I say in a lame attempt to
spice up my resume in the event he reneges and labels me Slut
Number Three or something equally degrading. “I mean, women get a
horrible reputation for sleeping around, and men get called a
player
, which basically amounts to a term of endearment. I
guess you can say I’m striving for fornicating equality.” God,
you’d think I was angling for a prized position in his pornographic
term paper.

“Fornicating equality.” Cruise comes in close
with his eyes heavily lidded as if he had a serious boner to
contend with, and he were about to recruit me in on the alleviating
efforts. “I think we should advance your training.” He rasps it out
low while breathing an invisible fire over my skin.

“I suppose this is where the sexual syllabus
comes in handy.” I tug him in by the collar and do my best to get
him to kiss me. “Which of the many perverted points would you like
to try out first? Master and servant? Professor and student?”

His cheek pulls back, and his dimple
depresses, approving of my scholarly seduction.

“I was thinking something more along the
lines of
show
and
tell
,” he whispers, stepping in
until his body warms mine.

For a second I think of telling him all about
my adventures in art class, but he wraps a solid arm around my
waist and the moment passes.

Cruise Elton looks beyond gorgeous in his
scholarly suit and glasses, and that embarrassing incident which
took place in his classroom comes flooding back to me. I can’t
believe I managed to hang myself with a noose crafted from the
finer points of
love
of all things, in front of a jury of my
peers and my scorching-hot professor, which reminds me, I’m still a
little miffed at the big scholastic reveal.

“Show, or tell?” My head rolls back
involuntarily, and I snap out of the spell of seduction he’s busy
casting. “Neither.” I break loose from his embrace and take off
down the hall.

“Where you going?”

“To bed.”

“What about me?” It comes out a plea on his
behalf of his blossoming crotch.

“You can take a cold shower.”

The alarm clock blinks mockingly at me,
two a.m
.

It’s so freaking cold I’m about ready to jump
in the refrigerator to warm myself. Honest to God, I’m beginning to
think this whole broken heater thing is a ruse to land me on his
mattress. And God knows I’ve thought long and hard about hopping
into Cruise Elton’s bed tonight, pride be dammed.

So what if he didn’t confess to being my
professor? He probably thought it was funny. I bet he had a good
laugh printing up that secret syllabus rife with perversion.

I’m sure the “Art of Whoredom” was meant to
give me a good chuckle and not at all allude to the pact I entered
into with Satan himself. Not that Cruise is Satan. He’s more of a
sexy alien being who’s rumored to have a penis the size of a
lightning rod and the superpower to make women scream with pleasure
on three different occasions in a very short span of time.

My body writhes at the prospect. I close my
eyes and envision Cruise pouring those molten hot kisses all over
my body, his searing hands traveling at the speed of light, then
dipping down in all the right places.

A rustling sound emits from behind the
dresser.

I freeze and cease breathing to hone in on
the mystery noise.

A loud scratching comes from the wall—and
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, IT’S TRAMPLING IN THIS DIRECTION!

I let out a muffled scream and bring my knees
to my chest so fast I knock the air out of my lungs.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

The undeniable pitter-patter of vermin feet
shuffling over the hardwood floor electrifies the room.

I bolt for the door only to smack into it at
a hundred nose-breaking miles per hour.

“Shit!”

Locked
!

I jog in a spastic manner while fiddling with
the handle in the event the gigantic mutant rats decide they want
to scamper up my legs en route to gnawing off my face. Honest to
God, if I lose my virginity to a fucking
sewer dweller,
I’m
going to scream all the way back to California.

I break out of the rat tank and make a run
for Cruise’s bedroom. Thankfully, his door is wide open, and I
manage to avert a second unfriendly run-in with pine that most
likely would have ensured emergency rhinoplasty.

“What the hell?” Cruise jumps up on his
elbows as I dive under the covers. He lifts the comforter, and a
seam of moonlight falls over his bewildered, more than slightly
gorgeous face. “Kenny?”

I let out a breath. “Is roll call really
necessary?” On second thought, this is Cruise.

I scoot into him as close as humanly possible
in the event the vermin takeover decides to spill into his quadrant
of the house. Cruise lets out a warm breath over my neck as he
spoons alongside me, cradling me with his strong, bare arms.

Gah
! What if this was all some evil
ploy to land me in his bed naked? Of course,
I’m
not naked,
but I’m willing to bet good money (that I’m currently deficient in
at the moment) that Cruise Elton
is
.

I reach down and touch his equally bare leg,
thus confirming my theory and pull away from his person as if he
were on fire.

“You’re
naked
.” It comes out
accusingly as though he planned it all along.

“I won’t bite,” he purrs, reeling me back by
the waist.

“I bet if I ask real nice...” It comes out
sarcastic because we both know he’s not above a caustic orthodontic
assault if the situation warranted it.

“In that case, I’ll do anything you want.” He
nuzzles his face into my neck, and I can feel his stubble grazing
against my skin, his soft lips as they pull along in a slow hot
line. “Are you wearing a jacket?” He pulls back the covers just
enough to reveal my odd selection of nighttime accouterments.

“Yes, I’m wearing a jacket—and a sweater, and
a T-shirt, a pair of sweats, and tights, and two pair of freaking
socks. That’s what happens when you move to the Ozarks. You wear
your closet to bed, so you don’t cryogenically freeze
overnight.”

“But think of how well preserved you’ll be in
twenty years.”

“You’re phenomenally funny, Professor
Elton.”

“No, I’m not. I’m an ass.” A heated breath
escapes his lungs.

Something in my chest loosens at his
well-timed, self-depreciatory remark—and just when I was gearing up
to discount him to the playboy rack once again.

He rolls onto his back, and I carefully take
him in.

The room glows the faintest shade of blue,
and thanks to the moon and all its reflective glory, there’s way
too much light for comfort. I stare down at his body, his rippling
abs, the hard V that sits just below his waist. The sheets artfully
cover his telephone pole, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Knowing
me, I would probably run screaming and land in bed with the
six-foot rat taking up residency on the other side of the wall.

Who am I kidding? With Cruise lying here like
the Sultan of Seduction, it’s almost too much to bear.

“What brings you for a visit?” He runs his
gaze down my ridiculous state of dress. Perfect. I’m pretty sure
I’m the least sexiest woman to have ever graced his bed.

“The rats of Massachusetts have gathered in
my room for a state-wide conference,” I whisper in the event their
tiny ears perk up at attention and they decide to migrate over.
“You, my friend, have an infestation of the vermin variety.”

“
Every
rat in Massachusetts has
congregated in your bedroom?” His left dimple goes off, mocking me,
and suddenly I find his vexing good looks annoying as hell.

“That’s right,” I say accusingly. “And I bet
you’ve been planning it all along.”

He belts out a laugh that startles me.

“You got me.” He holds out a hand. “I had a
big meeting with all the rodents in the neighborhood and
orchestrated the entire event. I’ve got an alligator working his
way through the sewage pipes as we speak.”

“No way.” I cover my ears. “If I listen for
one more minute, I’m going to pee standing up for the entire next
year.”

“I’m teasing. I assure you the throne is
still a safe place to rest on your laurels.” Cruise sits up and
pulls me to my knees. “Clothes”—he drills into me with those lucent
blue eyes—“on or off?”

My heart beats erratic, and my mouth runs
dry. With everything in me I want to say
off,
but the only
thing I’m able to squeeze through my vocal cords is a choking
sound.

“I heard off,” he whispers, unzipping my
jacket and removing it from my person. He cinches a smile as he
lifts my sweater and T-shirt from me in one slick move. My arms
stay frozen in the air as he grazes over my bare chest with his
eyes. He gives a tug at my sweats, and I wrap my arms around his
neck as he peels them away.

He looks at me, unsure of what to do with my
underwear then runs his thumbs inside the elastic, and his
breathing picks up at a quickened pace.

His warm hands round out my bottom and I gasp
at his touch.

Cruise Elton strips the underwear from my
body, and I don’t do a damn thing to stop him.

Cruise

The moonlight rinses out the room in a blue
wash, sanitizing us from the trappings of reality. Everything feels
dreamlike in this altered state. I try not to lose it as this
erotic fairytale unfurls around me with Kenny playing a starring
role as the princess.

Kenny didn’t say a word as I peeled off her
clothes. She wasn’t exaggerating when she rattled off the clothing
inventory a moment ago. Every last thread was present and accounted
for.

It’s too bad about that pest control problem
she’s having.

Best two dollars and ninety-nine cents I’ve
ever spent. The lady at the pet shop thought I should purchase at
least three, babbling something about the social nature of field
mice—and who was I to refute her theory?

Kenny shivers as we lie side by side, so I
pull her in, touch her soft skin against mine, and everything in me
pumps to life.

A part of me wants to apologize for not
fixing the heater, but the truth is I managed to fix it Christmas
morning. I thought for sure she’d crave a little body heat by now.
If I didn’t buy the damn rats, we’d probably have frostbite to
contend with by midterms.

I lie next to her, trying to steady my
breathing, and for the first time in a long while I’m unsure of
what to do next.

“Boy, you took everything off, swift as a
magician,” she marvels.

“Practice makes perfect.” Shit. I’m not sure
if bragging about how many times I may or may not have disrobed a
woman is a good thing right about now. Besides, this isn’t any
other woman—this is Kenny.