We both make muffled noises of pure animal pleasure as I collapse atop her, letting my mouth come to rest on the back of her neck, tasting her sweat, her just-Tess tanginess.
“Jeez,” she whispers, as I roll to the side so that we can face each other.
We turn so that we’re gazing into each other’s eyes, her face flushed and her eyes sparking in the excitement I’m already addicted to.
“So that was new.”
“Yeah, I didn’t plan on that,” I smirk. “You just looked too damn perfect.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that,” she smiles.
“Good,” I snarl. “Because I’ll never get tired of saying it.”Chapter Twenty-OneTessI sit at the rear of the lecture hall with Gizmo in my lap, unable to stop the secret smile from spreading across my lips every time Tanner and I meet eyes.
The thought that last time we were in class he was just the teacher and I was just his student seems absurd, as though that is the dream, as though that is what I have to question now.
Our romance sings a song of certainty in my mind each time he returns my look, his blue eyes flickering knowingly and his smirk ticking.
“Writer’s block,” he muses, pacing up and down in a suit of pure silver.
His five o’clock shadow has regrown since our date, spots of salt catching the early morning sun that shafts through the window. My body sizzles when I think about the dirty adventures we’ve shared since our night in Abode.
“When I was younger, I thought it was a myth. That’s a very foolish thing to admit, but it’s true. My words had always come in a torrent. I often wished I didn’t have to write so much. But then it happened to me, this confusing stoppage of that which I’d always taken for granted. I didn’t know how to fix it. But then I …”
He trails off and I feel the classroom holding their breath, Firecracker Red not even trying to hide the way she’s gaping at him. Even Gizmo turns from me to Tanner, head cocked, his long-haired ears perked inquisitively.
Tanner smirks and lets out a rumbling laugh.
“Then I found my key,” he says, his eyes laser focused on me, causing a blush to spread across my cheeks and neck.
But this blush isn’t powered by the fuel of nervousness or self-doubt.
This is one of pure red hot lust.
My womb gives a shiver inside of me, as though telling me that she needs more of his seed, the greedy girl.
More, more, more.
“If you find yourself suffering from writer’s block, then – in my recent experience – there’s probably something you need to get off your chest. But first you have to find that special somebody you’re willing to share things with. I never thought I would, until now …”
He keeps staring at me, so hard and with such flaring passion that Firecracker Red and a few other students turn to face the rear of the lecture hall.
They all look past me, as though never guessing that I could be his object of his attention.
But I don’t care, not anymore.
I don’t need their approval.
I’ve got my craft and my man and a future sparkling as bright as a golden sea.
What more could I need?
“Anyway,” Tanner says, dragging his gaze away from me with an effort.
I can read the effort in the way his body moves, the subtle tics in his expression, as though we’ve known each other for several years and not just over a week.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I whispered to him last night, feeling oh-so-protected in the rocky firmness of his embrace. “But do you know what? I’m sick and tired of questioning it. Maybe we were fused a long time ago, you know? Maybe fate fused us. Does that sound silly?”
He kissed my head softly, causing tingles to spread down over my forehead and cheeks.
“No,” he said, his voice an animal’s soft possessive growl in the darkness beside me. A growl that said, I will always protect you, no matter what happens. “That’s the sort of thing I’d normally scoff at, Tess. But I can’t, not with you. Because when we met, it was like I recognized you, even if we’d never seen each other before.”
Now, sitting in the lecture hall, I feel warm tingles dancing over me as I remember his words.
Tanner walks over to his desk, probably to collect a piece of paper with some work related task on it.
But he only gets halfway across the room when the door bursts open and somebody lets out an ear shattering cry.
“He’s got a fucking gun.”
My blood stills.
That’s Kait’s voice.
“Shut up, bitch,” a man growls.
Oh, no.
Please God, no.
That’s Dirk’s voice.
I stare as disbelief flutters through my body, making my skin burn with the surrealism of it all. Dirk drags Kait in roughly by her arm, his pistol casually held in his other hand as all the students in Tanner’s class – including me – take in a sharp breath.