Читать книгу About Last Night... - Samantha Hunter - Страница 7

Colin,

Come to my house at seven tonight—I have a surprise for you. Come alone, and you can’t say a word until I tell you to. Oh, and don’t be late. I know this probably sounds strange, but just do it. Remember, no talking!

Randi

COLIN STARED at Miranda’s e-mail in the dim light of his office. Books were stacked everywhere and piles of student tests cluttered his desk, leaving just enough room for the laptop that glowed in the darkness. To the outside observer it looked like a complete mess, but he knew exactly what was in every spot. Research projects, student papers, faculty documents—he could find anything he needed quickly. Why bother with extras like filing cabinets? But at the moment, he simply narrowed his eyes as he read the screen, murmuring to himself.

“No talking? Just do it? What the heck is she up to?”

His curiosity was piqued. It had been two nights since he’d seen Travis and discussed his feelings for Miranda. Maybe Travis was right—maybe he should just take a chance. God knows he’d thought about it enough. But as soon as he seriously considered it, the same heaviness would settle in his gut and he couldn’t go through with it. Quick affairs were nice, and he’d had his share of them, but with Miranda it would have to be something more. He knew they could never really have a future together. And worse, their friendship could be destroyed in the process.

He could hear his brother Derek’s voice in his head as clear as if it were yesterday, bragging about how he and Miranda were dating, and how they had made out for hours in the back seat of his car. It had driven Colin nuts, but his brother had beaten him to her and there was nothing to be done about it. The best man—or at least the braver man—had won.

Colin hadn’t been completely honest with Travis. He’d thought about approaching Randi a million times since she’d returned home, had played out what he would say, how he might ask her out, and it had never felt right. In his head, she was his brother’s girl, not his. She was only Colin’s in his fantasies, which had been long dead until she returned, when they had refueled with an almost cruel ferocity.

He closed his eyes and pictured her, feeling his insides tighten and his skin go warm. She was almost his height—nearly six feet—slim, and strong. She had…presence. There was intelligence in her face and, God knows, her voice alone could inspire his fantasies for nights on end.

She was beautiful, no doubt, with long, curling sable hair that tumbled everywhere and deep brown eyes that didn’t miss a thing. He’d often dreamed about wrapping those tresses around his hands, or burying his face in them. But she was more than beautiful.

She had a kind of fire that always seemed to be burning just under the surface, a quiet intensity. Yet she was one of the most open and friendly people he knew. If only he could bring himself to take the chance—

“Dr. Jacobs?”

Shaken out of his reverie, he looked up and saw Nell, his teaching assistant, standing in the doorway. It was getting dark outside and he switched the small desk lamp on, glancing at his watch. He was due at Miranda’s soon. He was curious as to what had prompted her to send that strange e-mail telling him to show up but remain silent. Probably Penny and Travis were in on whatever it was as well.

“Hello, Nell. What can I do for you?”

She stepped tentatively into the office, laying a stack of papers down on the desk.

“These are done. I applied the grading criteria you gave me as best I could, but I marked some of the ones that were less clear with Post-its for your review.”

He smiled. Nell was a first-year doctoral student in clinical psychology, and she worked hard—maybe too hard. Her straight black hair was pulled back tightly from her face and she wore no makeup, not even lipstick. Shadows showed under her eyes. It made her appear very…sparse. And exhausted.

“I appreciate you getting these to me so quickly, but you could have taken a little longer. I know you just got out of your own version of midterm hell. How are your classes going?”

She bit her lip, looking down.

“Oh, they’re fine. Quantitative stats is giving me a little bit of a problem, but I’ll get through it.”

“You will. Smythe is tough, but she’s a great professor. I’d be happy to help you with some of the problem sets if you get stuck, just let me know. Quantitative is important.”

She nodded and turned her head to glance out the window that overlooked the quad.

“You’re here pretty late. I didn’t expect you to be in, but figured I would leave the tests on your desk for morning.”

“Yes, well, I’m trying to get through this grading. There may be a few students from your section I’ll need to confer with you about before this is over.”

She smiled, and he thought she might actually be pretty if she tried.

“Okay, just let me know when you need me to do that. I am usually near e-mail.”

He was eager to draw their conversation to a close, but wanted to be supportive. “You’re doing a great job, Nell. Above and beyond. Tell you what, let me take you for a coffee next week and we’ll talk about the tests in a more pleasant place than the office. Sound good?”

She nodded awkwardly and in the low light he could just see pink stain her cheeks as she backed away from the desk. He stepped around the desk, looking at his watch again, and knew he had to hurry her out of the office if he was going to make it to Miranda’s in time.

“Listen, I remember what it was like, and I want us to have a different kind of relationship than I had with my advisor. Hopefully a much more friendly one.”

He slipped a companionable arm around her shoulders and guided her to the doorway, needing to hasten her departure so he could leave. He gave her arm a quick squeeze before reaching for his jacket. Her eyes widened and she nodded before saying a quick goodbye and exiting the room. He shook his head, hoping he’d gotten his point across. This was the first semester he had had his own teaching assistant, and he didn’t want to get a reputation as an ogre.

He was all for hard work, but sometimes if you over-did it, your production could actually suffer. He saw it happen all the time in burned-out students and colleagues. Other advisors had their T.A.s over to dinner, and created more of a social situation, treating them like colleagues more than students. He made a mental note to make more of an effort in that area. Coffee would be a start.

He shut down the laptop. It was later than he had thought, and he had to get going. Closing up his briefcase, he grabbed his jacket and shut the light off behind him, wondering again what Miranda’s mysterious e-mail was all about. He expected to find out soon.

MIRANDA HEARD the truck pull up in front of the house and looked out into the lighted driveway, confirming that it was Colin. She peered through the curtain, watching all six feet of him slide out of the heavy-duty pickup, and sucked in a breath. He stood for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure what to do, or why he was there, and then closed the truck door.

He wore the years well, the man fulfilling the promise in the boy, his lanky frame filled out, muscular and hard. She watched him approach the door, the muscles of his thighs stretching against his jeans with each long step. Miranda had frequently treated herself to the view of those jeans from behind and quivered in anticipation of seeing what was underneath them. He still fried her brain cells like no other man ever had.

Even though she watched him approach, the knock on the door had Miranda nearly jumping out of her skin. In the twenty minutes or so she’d fussed and waited for Colin to arrive, she’d gone over every move, every detail, many times. He was on time, seven sharp, as she knew he would be. The moment was at hand. She pulled herself up, reminding herself that this was Colin, the man she’d known her entire life, and whom she’d always been attracted to. This could only be good, right?

Forcing herself to relax, she went to her bedroom door, calling to him to come in. She watched him enter the room and look up the stairs, following her voice. When his eyes widened in surprise, traveling down the length of her scantily clad body and back to her face, his mouth opened to speak, but she quickly put a finger to her lips, silencing him.

“No. No talking. Just come up.”

It was clear from his expression that whatever he’d been expecting, this was not it. She gestured to him to join her with a naughty little tilt of her head, smiling in delicious anticipation. This was going to be fun.

COLIN HEARD the door click shut behind him and swallowed hard as the scent of her sexy perfume wafted over him. He walked up the stairs on automatic pilot, curiosity consuming him. What was going on?

It was clear enough when he saw her, posed sexily in the doorway of her bedroom. He tried to train his eyes in another direction, but the room was clearly set for seduction. Then his gaze landed on her again, disbelief coursing through him. It was almost hard to believe this was Miranda—his Miranda—with whom he’d had snowball wars and late-night pizza parties when they were kids.

She walked up to him and he felt his groin tighten in a way that suggested he was going to have a very hard time resisting her. It was every fantasy he’d ever had about her coming true. The sheer gown she wore hid next to nothing, and it occurred to him that this was the first time he’d seen her naked, or as close to it as he could imagine. Well, there had been that one time they’d all gone skinny-dipping when they were thirteen, but that was not the same at all.

The lacy material clung to her breasts, and was slit nearly to the hip. A long, silken leg emerged as she walked toward him, and he wasn’t sure, but he might have groaned out loud.

“Mir—”

“Shh! No talking. I told you.”

Her voice was sultry and commanding, and she had a fire in her eyes that sent arrows of lust shooting straight to his…toes. Who would have known he liked having a woman taking control this way, leaving him mute and helpless? With other lovers, he had always been in control, the one who made the moves. He had initiated the action. This was…mildly kinky? To enjoy having someone else be in control, ordering him around? He didn’t know he would like kinky sex. But as he felt himself thicken, becoming painfully hard, he knew he liked it quite a lot. He filed that thought away for further examination later.

She stepped up close, her breasts grazing his chest as she pushed the lightweight jacket from his shoulders, then loosened the knot of his tie, which did nothing to clear the obstruction in his throat. She took him by the hand, leading him to a small table. She looked into his eyes, hers communicating brazen desire.

“I’m going to feed you.”

He noticed she didn’t ask, for instance, Are you hungry? Would you like a strawberry? But a statement. A command. He knew he should stand up, call this off, but his mind and his body were too caught up in her spell to object. And who was he kidding? She was every man’s fantasy—his in particular—come to life.

She poured a glass of champagne and took a sip, then dipped a ripe strawberry in the glass before lifting it to his mouth. He took a bite. A drizzle of juice escaped down his chin, and he might have touched an electric fence for the jolt that shot through him as their tongues touched when they both attempted to catch the stray drop. He heard her chuckle, a low, sexy laugh that told him he was in big trouble.

The feeding went on for torturous minutes on end. She not only fed him but let him watch her eat, and he felt his muscles clench in primal response when she dipped her fingers into the champagne and traced them down her chest, along the edges of the nightgown over the creamy curves of her breast. He licked his lips instinctively and felt his traitorous cock throb with need. There was nothing he could do to stop it. She was shredding his control into confetti.

Victory and lust surged in her eyes as she took in his reaction, and she clasped his hand in hers again, pulling him over to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. He watched them both as she stood beside him, running her hands over him, tugging his shirt loose, buttons popping and flying everywhere.

His heart thundered in his chest. His eyes were glued to the image of her undressing him. He felt as if he was in an excruciatingly seductive dream, except that every tingle of response, every shudder of pleasure as her hands moved over him was achingly real.

She slipped her hands inside his shirt and rubbed them lightly over his chest. She had to feel the slamming of his heart against his ribs. Heat washed over him. It had been far too long for him, and he’d exercised great restraint. Now he was too close to the edge from her simple touch.

Her mouth followed her hands and before he knew it he was naked in front of the mirror, his body glistening with sweat, every inch of him from head to toe rock-hard and fully aroused. He stared at the image of her kneeling in front of him, such a submissive position for a woman so in command.

When her reflection showed her leaning forward to touch her mouth to his already incredibly sensitized erection, he nearly lost it right there. His mind clicked a mental photograph of the picture they made, an image he would never forget. Things were getting out of control—he was out of control—and he needed to stop this. With a grunt of objection, he backed up, away from her mouth. She rose and smiled, taking him by the hand again and leading him to the bed.

“You’re right—no need to rush things. We have all night. Sit.” Her breathing was shallow, and he knew she was as aroused as he was. It was wrong that he let it go this far, but he was so hungry for her, and he really didn’t want to stop, even though that way was madness. He felt his head spin as she peeled off the nightgown. He tried to speak, but the words came out as a long groan.

Standing before him in only a silky, flesh-toned thong, she met his gaze with such desire, such openness, and such…passion…he knew with painful clarity that if he let this happen they would regret it later. As much as he wanted her, needed her, he had to end this.

It was almost physically painful to push down the wanting, to ruthlessly shut off the desire, but he forced himself to do so. She walked to him, concern evident in her expression, lifting her hand to touch him, and he nearly flew to the other side of the room, not trusting himself to be touched one more time and still stay strong.

MIRANDA WATCHED HIM withdraw from her and felt confusion and rejection splash over her like ice water. She stood there, naked, wondering what had gone wrong. Her plan was working. He’d enjoyed it, that was obvious. She knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Yet in one second, in one horrible moment, the wall had slammed down between them yet again and he had pulled away, physically and emotionally. Dazed, she couldn’t fathom what was happening.

“Colin, I don’t understand…” Her voice was barely a whisper and she took a step forward, stopping as he took a step back.

“Miranda…Randi, please. Just give me a minute.”

Chills traveled over her skin, followed by a surge of shame and deep embarrassment. She too reached for anything she could to cover up, tears stinging at the back of her eyelids.

“Why? What’s wrong?” She wrapped a sheet around her body and tried to manage the tumult of emotions that raged through her. She was shaking and her breath came in gulps, but she fought hard for some vestige of control. She watched him finish dressing and managed to speak again, her voice small, which she hated though she couldn’t seem to control it.

“Don’t you think I’m sexy, Colin? Don’t you want me?”

His head snapped up. She saw the shock in his face, and knew that wasn’t it, as he was quick to confirm.

“Does it look like I don’t want you? I’m burning with it, Randi, but it just doesn’t feel right. I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

She felt her knees shake beneath her but somehow continued to stand. Staring him in the eye, she demanded an answer.

“Why not? You won’t even give it a chance.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment, and his jaw squared, as if he were hanging hard on to his control.

“I’m having a physical reaction to you—what man wouldn’t? You’re gorgeous and seductive, but that’s all it is. Just a physical response. And one we shouldn’t act on.”

“That’s all you feel for me? You are just reacting like any man would to a naked woman?” Disbelief and hurt were evident in her words, and he tried to explain.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You are my friend and I care about you, and that’s why I’m stopping. Try to think about this rationally, Miranda.”

Her heart constricted and she wasn’t sure she could breathe. “Rationally?” She didn’t know if she actually spoke the question. She saw red. He was stomping on her heart, humiliating her, rejecting her without even a good reason why.

Colin stepped forward, but this time she retreated.

“Listen, Randi, you may think you want to start something with me, and I can almost understand that. You might see me as an alternate to Derek, a way to put those demons to rest, but that’s not a role I intend to take up.”

She angrily clutched the sheet more tightly around herself. “You honestly think I wanted to sleep with you as a substitute for Derek? I never even slept with Derek, you moron! How could you think such a thing? Did you get this out of one of your psychology books, Col? If you don’t want me, be honest about it, but cut the psychobabble.”

“Miranda—”

“We’ve always had something between us, Colin, whether you will admit it or not. Stay, and give us a chance, Colin, or just get out. It’s your choice.” Her voice caught, but she stood strong, her eyes blazing into his. He stood helplessly for a moment and then turned away. She closed her eyes, not wanting him to see her heartbreak, but she knew she didn’t need to worry about that as she heard the door open and then click softly shut.

“Fine, then. Just go.” She spoke to the empty room. Giving in to the pain, she let the sobs take her over.

COLIN PARKED his truck at the side of the road in Old Port, regret gnawing at his gut. If he’d known what she had on her mind he never would have shown up tonight. He’d hurt her, he knew, but she needed to hear the truth before they got caught up in something that wasn’t healthy for either of them. He should feel as if he’d done the right thing—so why didn’t he?

The streets were quiet, though some folks enjoyed a walk along the old cobblestone streets in the warming spring air. He stopped by a sidewalk bridge between two buildings that overlooked Casco Bay and stared out into the darkness. When Derek had died, he’d gone through the predictable stages of grief—anger at his brother for leaving him alone. And guilt. The horrible frustration and guilt he felt while he watched his parents suffer. No matter what he did, he couldn’t make it better.

He couldn’t make it better for Miranda, either, then or now. She’d left Portland after Derek’s death, and maybe some of those old ghosts were things she still had to work through now that she was home again, but he wasn’t going to be part of that. He had to be the one who stayed in control. When she thought things through, she would be glad he had walked away. Even though it was the last thing he’d wanted to do. It would have been so easy to give in, to sink into the willing flesh of her body, have all his fantasies become reality. But what was easy wasn’t always right.

“Dammit, Miranda.”

He pushed back from the rail and began walking to the car, his mind numb and his body still on fire. He needed a cold shower and some sleep. Maybe he’d wait a few days and then try to talk to her. He only made it a few steps when he heard a funny little squeaking sound and someone yelling. Suddenly, he saw two men on bikes barreling down on him, waving their hands frantically for Colin to get out of the way. They hit their brakes, and he watched their bikes wobble, but it was too late.

He moved to avoid them, but one biker unfortunately moved in the same direction he did. The impact was hard and sudden; he felt the sharp jab of the bike’s handles into his gut and then the heavy thud of a body as the man flew over the handles of the bike, crashing into him. Colin was pushed backward, flipping over the rail. Strangely, through the surge of pain and movement, he thought how odd it felt to be so completely out of control of his body for the second time that evening, tossed about as if he were weightless.

He grabbed desperately for the rail but only grasped darkness. The next sensation he felt was intense, bone-biting cold—and pain. He hit something hard, and it hurt. He saw Miranda’s face in his mind’s eye just as everything faded to black.