I blamed the red dress for the fact that she was leading me around by my dick tonight.

I blamed myself for how much I liked it.

She walked through the party, her head high. I’d never noticed how a woman walked before—not like this—pure class that glided as the crowd parted for her. She was a queen and we all knew it. She could have disappeared into the crowd, and if she had, maybe I would have let her. That’s what I told myself, at least, as I pretended I still had control over this, whatever it was. As I pretended she—Blair—hadn’t gotten under my skin.

She headed toward a set of glass doors leading out to a back patio. I trailed behind, some part of my brain alert enough to give me that much sense, at least.

Her back to me, I slid through the glass doors and shut them behind me, blocking out the rest of the party.

The patio wasn’t big, but it was private, protected by enormous hedges that surrounded her like sentries meant to keep the commoners at bay. I allowed myself a moment—drunk on this night and this girl—to admire the delicate curve of her neck exposed by the mass of her hair—brown, rich, gleaming—held together with diamond clips. My gaze trailed that line down her spine, her back bare before her pale skin hit red silk.

Contrasts. Always contrasts with her.

The line between appropriate and inappropriate student and teacher involvement was gray. Okay, maybe not gray. Sleeping with a student would get me in deep shit. Especially when she was one of my students. It wasn’t unheard of, but given my precarious position with the faculty, it was a really stupid idea. Next semester she wouldn’t be in my class, and maybe then it would be gray.

But even then?

I’d fucked up enough lives with my carelessness, with my innate ability to take something good and twist it and warp it until it was something dark and mangled, to know not to put that on her. I was the kind of dirty that never got clean, and I didn’t believe in redemption.

I knew better. Absolutely. But everything about Blair was look but don’t touch, and the pisser was, I’d never done well with boundaries.

So I stayed, and waited for her to turn; when she did, with the soft swirl of her skirt around her, she yanked me in deeper.

Blair

I’d thought the fresh air would help, thought it would slap some sanity into me, and then he’d come out and I’d felt his body behind me, and I recognized the lie running through my head.

I hadn’t come outside to escape, for clarity; I’d come outside because I wanted more of the feeling he conjured inside me. It terrified me and taunted me at the same time, beckoning me closer, telling me that if I just turned, that if I gave myself over to this need, to the desire pummeling me, to the pings shooting through my stomach like balls in a pinball machine, I’d finally feel free.

I listened to the whispered promise carried through the night air. I turned.

I met Gray’s gaze, heartbeat racing, a flush of adrenaline tingling through my body. How many dreams had I had about him? How many times had I sat in class staring at him, listening to his voice, fantasizing about what it would be like to have him? Even for a moment.

My legs trembled.

He swallowed.

I ached to stroke his skin, to wrap my arms around him. The night air sent a chill, goose bumps covering me. Suddenly, my dress felt too tight, my breasts achy, desire pooling between my legs.

Fuck it.

I erased the distance between us with one step, my arms wrapping around his neck, my breasts crushed into his chest, and then I was pulling his head down toward me, lifting my head up, and his mouth slammed down on mine.

Finally.

His body stiffened the second our lips touched, and then my tongue collided with his mouth, and he opened, and I stole the kiss from him.

He was no longer my professor, no longer someone I loathed. He was hands I needed on my body, lips I wanted kissing mine.

I couldn’t get enough of him, of the taste swirling in my mouth. I was drowning in him, so deep I feared I’d never climb my way out.

Our tongues tangled. Our teeth grazed soft flesh. My hands threaded through his hair, pulling him closer to me. I arched my hips until I felt him hard against my stomach, his breath ragged against my lips.

I didn’t hold anything back, gave him all of the hunger that had burned a hole inside me.

His hands wrapped around me, holding me against his body, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

My fingers drifted down to his nape, his skin hot beneath my touch, capturing the tremor that slid through him.

I’d imagined kissing him for so long now, fantasized about it on the days when he lectured about boring subjects like intentional infliction of emotional distress, this arousal simmering inside me for months.

It exploded in this kiss, as our bodies waged war with our mouths. It wasn’t a sweet kiss; there were no soft brushes of our lips or gentle hands. This was a full-blown assault of desire, my need slamming into his, sparks firing between us.

I’d thought it would just be a kiss. A good, hot kiss that would take off the constant edge I felt around him. I’d been so wrong. It hadn’t been a good kiss and it hadn’t been hot.

It was the best kiss of my fucking life and I was on fire.

Whatever I’d expected to find the moment our lips connected, it hadn’t been this. This was a boulder tumbling down a cliff, hurtling to the bottom.

It was a disaster.

Gray

I was so fucked it wasn’t even funny.

Her lips were crack, her body heroin, and I couldn’t get enough.

This girl had the power to break me in two.

I’d meant to be in control from the beginning. I was the experienced one, the older one; I was supposed to be the one blowing her mind. But I hadn’t been prepared for how sweet her mouth would be.

I hadn’t been prepared for her.

Blair broke away first, and considering she’d shredded my willpower in one move, it took her stepping back for me to drag some air into my lungs, my body strung out, my dick aching.

Her hand came up to her lips, her fingers touching the skin there, and I stifled a groan, remembering just how that mouth had felt on mine. Her lips were swollen, wet from my tongue, her red lipstick smudged.

Her breasts rose and fell, her eyes wide, her chest flushed.

I didn’t speak, just waited for her to give me more, anything, everything. In this moment, her standing there like a fucking queen, I’d take it all.

We stood there staring at each other, the silence closing in, neither one of us moving. It was like we were locked in place.

There was no coming back from that kiss.

I opened my mouth, digging deep, trying to find the words, scraping my insides out for her until I came up empty. This was purgatory, in between everything I wanted and the hell I’d clawed my way out of, knowing I didn’t deserve the softness of her lips or the sweetness of her mouth.

I didn’t want to make love to her. I didn’t want to give her my heart—didn’t even have one to give. I wanted to fuck her. That was it. That was all this was supposed to be.

This feeling inside of me hurt. It was a cruel joke to put her in front of me, to know that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. She was a temptation I couldn’t afford, a line I feared crossing.

The longer I stayed, the more I wanted to kiss her again, the harder it was to convince myself that I couldn’t have her.

So I gave her a jerky nod, my jaw clenched, and fled.

Chapter Seven

We were disappointed to miss out on a meeting between Blair Reynolds and her former fiancé. Rumor has it Blair left the party early and stayed far away from the Wyatts . . .