Chapter Four
Shane
Despite the opening Amber gave me, I keep my distance. I was burned too badly once before by a nonexistent relationship with a student to indulge in any sort of real one. No matter how drawn I am to the bubbly blonde.
And in the last few weeks, I’ve seen a more radiant side to Amber’s personality as she grows more comfortable both in my class and with the material.
I know from Professor Anne Slater, who is tutoring Amber, that she is grasping the material thanks to the individual attention dedicated to the subject.
She also has made some friends in class, her study group, which shows me the lighter side she keeps hidden beneath the busy mom or harried student.
I often see her laughing, revealing a more carefree side I wish I could get to know better.
Every time I catch a glance of her smile, my dick reacts. Remember that kiss? it seems to ask me. Don’t you want a repeat?
I frown and refocus on the papers in front of me, but the information blurs, and when my cell rings, I am grateful for the reprieve.
“Hello?” I ask without really looking at the number.
“Shane? It’s Margo. Your step—I mean, it’s Zachary’s wife.” She was clearly about to say stepmother, a term I’ve never been open to or welcomed.
Still, she tries. She’s never been the stereotypical bitch I expected, just the second wife my father left his family for. It is hard to welcome her, especially when my own father hasn’t bothered much with me and yet has been such a stubborn ass when it comes to how I choose to live my life.
“Hello, Margo. How can I help you?” I ask, my standard answer for her rare phone calls. And they are rare.
“It’s your father. He … he had a heart attack,” she says, her voice cracking.
Despite our fractured relationship, panic runs through my veins. “Is he … is he okay?”
“He is. The doctors are optimistic, though they want to run a few tests.”
Relief flows through me. After all, the man is an ass, but he is the only father I have.
“But he’s asking for you,” Margo says. “Can you come visit? Tomorrow would be best because they are running tests today.”
I run a hand over my eyes and groan. “I’ll be there.” I don’t have class in the morning, and they are only located an hour away. But why in the hell does my father want to see me?
And how do I feel about it? My father either leaves me to my own devices or steps in when he doesn’t approve of my choices.
He’s never once asked to see me for no apparent reason.
True, a brush with mortality could spark a man’s deepest fears, but I don’t see my father reaching that deep into his soul, and apologies aren’t in his vocabulary.
“Thank you. I’ll let Zachary know. I’ll text you the hospital information and I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says before disconnecting the call.
I open a beer and walk to the kitchen window above the sink and look out over my lawn. The neighbors are sitting on their deck, a drawback to this house as there are no trees as a barrier giving me privacy.
Deciding not to go outside, I sit down on the sofa in the family room, take a sip of my drink, and stare into the empty room.
I need someone to talk to, someone I think will understand my past and mixed emotions about visiting my sick father.
There is no way I’d burden my mother with this news, and I haven’t made any friends here close enough to unload this kind of crap on.
Which leaves the only person I really want to see anyway. The same woman I’ve been avoiding unless I see her in my classroom. The one I’ve steadfastly refused to text or call despite the open invitation for me to do so.
I want to talk to Amber.
* * *
Amber
Soon after my conversation—and kiss—with Shane, though I’m not thinking about that now—I received an email with two tutor names and nothing else written in the note.
Ignoring the pang of disappointment that he isn’t going to discuss anything personal, I jumped on the opportunity, texting both tutors and setting up a meeting with a female assistant professor who replied to me first. Knowing I have a plan sets my mind at ease about the class.
I feel certain with one-on-one help I can get up to speed enough to pass and put Intro to Economics behind me.
Unfortunately I can’t do the same for Shane or that kiss.
I’ve been reliving the moment while awake and daydreaming and in my sleep at night.
But he’s made his intentions or lack thereof clear, and I am not going to chase after a man who isn’t interested in me.
I understand his reasons for not wanting a public relationship, but I offered him a way to get to know each other without anyone else being aware.
And he hasn’t acted on it. So I throw myself into my schoolwork.
Thanks to the tutoring, over time, my grades slowly inch up.
I’ll never be an economist, but I am going to get more than a D in this class.
I consider a C a major accomplishment. When Shane hands back quizzes and assignments with my better grades, I see the gleam of approval in his gaze and the pleased expression on his face.
He still doesn’t get in touch with me the way I hoped, and after a few weeks go by, I come to accept that he is going to keep his distance and I need to respect his wishes.
In between studying, I finish unpacking my house, finish decorating L.J.
’s room, and have fallen into a comfortable routine, speaking to L.J.
every evening and texting with him in the mornings before I go to school on the days I have class.
I also join a study group and meet with them twice a week, and though the information I learn there didn’t help before tutoring, once I have a grasp on the material, I feel more comfortable contributing and gaining information there.
Because of the difficulty I have in economics, I put aside the idea of getting a part-time job until the fall, when I know I’ll be more comfortable with the classwork and be able to dedicate work hours when needed. All in all, things are going well.
I’ve just finished dinner and put my dishes in the sink when my doorbell rings. I wipe my hand on a dishtowel, place it on the counter, and go to answer it.
A glance through the curtains shocks me. “Shane!” I open the door, and he brushes past me and steps inside, the scent of his cologne immediately surrounding me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He winces at the question. “Abusing every privilege and right I have to your personal information by showing up on your doorstep because … I need you.”
At the admission, which seems reluctantly pulled from him, my pulse skips a beat. “What’s going on?” I shut the door behind him.
“My father had a heart attack,” he says, and when I really look at him, the pain etching his features becomes obvious.
“Shane, I’m sorry.” I reach out and place my hand in his. “But I’m not sure why you need me?”
Of course I feel bad that his father has a health issue, but what does that have to do with me?
His intent gaze bores into mine, and I sense something has definitely shifted.
“Why do I need you? Because I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day we met.
Because I watch you from the front of the class and have to pretend I’m not completely turned on by every move you make.
Because I want to know every little thing that makes you tick and then learn some more.
And because when I got the call about my father and thought about who I wanted to share my deepest pain with, only you came to mind. ”
I draw a startled breath, completely taken off guard by his honest admission. “But … when you didn’t call or text, when you ignored me except for calling on me in class, I thought you weren’t interested in me that way.”
A wry yet sexy smile lifts his lips. “I’m a damn good faker when I need to be. So there’s just one thing I need to know for now.”
My heart beats out a rapid rhythm inside my chest. “What’s that?”
“Do you still want me the same way?”
I don’t need to think about my answer. “I do.”
Although everything that concerned him before still stands between us, he is here now, and I have no problem acting on my feelings. I move toward him at the same time he lifts me into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck at the same moment his lips come down hard on mine.
Pausing mid-step, he allows us the time to kiss, to drop the barriers and pretenses that held us apart, and lets us come together now.
His words have stripped the defenses I built, thinking he doesn’t want me.
I am open to anything he desires from me now.
This is my summer of new beginnings and explorations, and where better to start than with the man who desires me as much as I do him?
Threading his fingers through my hair, he tugs on the long strands, my head tilting, giving him complete access to my mouth. His tongue slides inside, and he takes control, gliding his lips over mine, nipping at my bottom lip and sucking on my tongue until my sex pulses with unfulfilled need.
“Bedroom?” he asks.
“At the end of the hall.” He carries me through the house and steps inside, making his way to the bed and easing me down onto the mattress.
Standing over me, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and pulls them down, taking my panties along with them.
Eyes darkened, he studies me for a long while until I squirm under his intent gaze.
Then he lifts the edges of my top and slides it over my head, leaving me in just a bra, my bottom half bared to him completely.
My cheeks burn with discomfort, concern about the shape of my body rising to the surface.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, obviously noticing the sudden stiffening of my muscles. He strokes a hand down my cheek. “You’re beautiful and—”