The Connaghers Series Boxed Set Page 4

  “Always tell me the truth, no matter how awful you think it is, and most especially if you think it’ll piss me off.” His fingers tightened, making her focus back on his eyes. “I need to know then more than ever. Promise me, Rae.”

  Staring into his fierce eyes, she knew a sudden truth of her own. When he held her like this, and he demanded something, anything…

  She’d give it.

  “I promise.” Rising up on her tiptoes she dared a quick brush of her mouth against his. “Dr. Connagher, sir.”

  4

  Dear Dr. Connagher:

  We made it.

  In less than an hour, I’ll be sitting down for your final exam. I just finished printing out the last page of my essay detailing how I’ll personally use poetry in the future, not just at college but my whole life. Do you know how many versions I had to go through to get something clean enough for the dean to read? Because I want long hours in bed with you, listening to you quote poetry in that rough, ragged voice against my ear.

  Now all I have to do for the actual final is write a letter to you in the blue book about my favorite poem and make suggestions for next year’s class. For extra credit (ha), we can submit an original poem of our own. Even if I’m not quite brave enough for that, you’ve accomplished the impossible, Dr. Connagher. You took a student who knew absolutely nothing about poetry and made me love the rhythm, images, and feelings so wonderfully disguised in a few simple lines, and no, I’m not saying this because of the future I hope to have with you. I’ll always remember this class and your passion for poetry.

  You’re a phenomenal teacher.

  I love you, Dr. Connagher. I know that sounds strange since we’ve not had a single “official” date, but it’s true. You did your worst to me as a professor, and as your student, I survived. I think I even excelled, at least far beyond my personal expectations. But as soon as I turn in your final exam, it’s time for you to leave.

  I want you to remove that professor mask and show me the real Conn underneath.

  However, you made me swear to always tell you the truth, no matter how awful or pissed off I thought you’d be. So here’s the truth, Conn.

  You bruised me that night in the lecture hall. I wore your fingerprints in my thigh for days. Every time I looked at those bruises, I shivered with the memory. I wanted you there with me so you could do it again, and maybe this time, you’d kiss me. Maybe you’d pin me flat on top of your desk and have your wicked way with me.

  When the bruises faded, my first thought was to do something bratty just so you’d have to do it again. Without those marks, I felt empty and lost, as though I didn’t belong to you anymore.

  That’s what scares me. You said you’d give me just a taste of the real you. Are you going to hurt me so badly I’ll have bruises all the time? Will I want those bruises, cry when they fade away, and then beg you to give me more?

  When you pulled off your Dr. Connagher mask, you also pulled off mine, and I have to admit that I don’t know the Rae underneath.

  She’s weak in the knees for you, Conn, vulnerable, scared to death, and so in love with you that she’ll do anything to be with you. I think she’d let you do anything, Conn. Anything at all.

  You gave me fair warning, so I guess I should do the same, although I know you won’t ever read this.

  I’m wearing that white mini-skirt to your final.

  Dangerous, I know, but when I wear that skirt, I feel powerful. I see the darkness in your eyes. I know I’m flirting with danger, and I just can’t help myself. But I also need to know the truth, Conn. I need to know how far you’ll go when you’re not Dr. Connagher, and how far I’ll let you go when I’m not Miss Jackson.

  Are you going to hurt me again? Will I let you hurt me again? How can I protect myself against you when I love you so much?

  I can’t.

  Because what I’m really afraid of is that I might need you to hurt me.

  Yours,

  ~ Rae

  Miss Rae Jackson sauntered into Conn’s classroom one last time, wearing that slip of a skirt that bared every inch of her incredible legs to what had to be just below her ass. The top she’d paired with it wasn’t much better: a heart-stopping red fitted tank that hugged her body and lifted her breasts like an offering for him. Everything fit well--it wasn’t too tight, slutty, or slinky—and it was certainly blazing hot outside. It might be only June, but summer had come early with ninety-degree heat and miserable humidity.

  A quick glance confirmed that the other students wore similar clothes. Hell, one student even wore a bikini top which made Rae look overdressed. The other student’s tanned skin already gleamed with oil, making it very clear that as soon as she turned in his final, she was headed to the lake. However, none of them sent a fist of lust tearing through his stomach like Rae.

  She took her seat, crossed her legs demurely at the ankle, and flickered a quick look up at him to judge his reaction. She’d worn her hair loose too, another temptation with all that bare skin. And that damned skirt. She knew very well what it did to him. What he’d promised.

  While his students wrote their final letters into their composition books and turned them in to him at the front of the room, he forced himself to read their papers instead of tormenting himself about what she might have on beneath that skirt. He would not think about it.

  Damn it, I have more control than this!

  An hour crept by until she was the last student remaining. He watched her flip back through what she’d written, absently gnawing on her lip. I’m going to have that lip in my teeth before she leaves this room.

  When Dean Strobel stuck her head in, he very nearly cursed out loud. Rae scribbled a few more lines and then quickly brought him her final. The dean didn’t even let him get a finger on it—she took it directly from Rae’s hand.

  “And her paper,” Dean Strobel demanded. She eyed the impressive stack of pages in Rae’s essay and gave her a considering look. “I’ll have my decision by the end of the day, Dr. Connagher, and then you can read and grade everything to see if we agree. I must admit, young lady, that you surprised me, and him, I dare say. I saw you at the lecture a few months ago, so quote me something from Burns, and it’d better be something other than ‘A Red, Red Rose.’”

  Rae paled, shooting him an imploring look of panic. Neither of them had expected the dean to interrogate her in person. He tried to think of a way to help her, even opened his mouth to start a quote for her, but Dean Strobel silenced him with a fierce look.

  Staring at his mouth, though, Rae must have suddenly remembered a Burns poem, although Conn couldn’t say that he cared for her choice. At all.

  “‘Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!/ Ae farewell, alas for ever!/ Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee/’.” She hesitated, a hint of color darkening her cheeks, but she finished the phrase, granted in a slightly ragged voice. “‘Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee!’”4

  Conn let his pride glow in his eyes, and hopefully a hint of the warring sighs and groans he was going to give her as soon as they were able to slip away.

  The dean smiled widely, slapped Conn on the arm with the bundled pages, and headed toward the door. “I can’t wait to read her final essay. Excellent work, you two.”

  He waited until the dean was surely well on her way to her office, and then he leaned in close to Rae. Her eyes locked on his mouth, her teeth flashing against her lip again, and it was all he could do not to haul her beneath him here and now.

  His control felt ragged and frayed, like a rope which she’d been sawing away at day by day. They weren’t safe yet, far from it. He certainly couldn’t kiss her here where anyone could walk by. Until final grades were posted for the class, he’d continue to be under the dean’s scrutiny.

  Grimly, he turned away and began shoving all the blue books and essays into his satchel. He had to have a taste of her, soon, before he lost his mind entirely. “Do you remember what I said I was going to do if you wore that skirt
again, Miss Jackson?”

  Wide eyed, she nodded, her breathing loud in the empty room. He cupped her elbow in his hand to get her moving quicker. “Are you... were you… serious?”

  “Hell yeah, darlin’.” He squeezed her arm, watching her eyes darken, her lips part on a soft little sound that sent his blood pumping. “That’s one thing you should know about me already,” he growled out against her ear. “I always keep my promises. Now I expect you to report to my office immediately for the real final exam.”

  Rae stood in Dr. Connagher’s office, her right arm still hot from where his hand had been. That hint of force had made her tremble again. Her knees felt watery and her heart pounded so hard that she barely heard him shut the door behind them.

  However, the snick of the lock sliding into place nearly made her jump to the ceiling and hang there like a yowling cat straight out of cartoons.

  Breathlessly, she waited for him to make his move. If he picked her up and tossed her on top of his desk, it’d be worth a spanking.

  But he didn’t touch her. Instead, he set his satchel on top of that glossy cherry desk she’d fantasized about all these months and added another stack of blue books into the bag. “Damn. I’m going to be grading for days. How does a week sound to you?”

  Her voice cracked. “A week?”

  “Let me finish grading for the semester, and by next Friday, it ought to be safe for us to date more formally.” He sat in his chair and casually leaned back, his hands behind his head, but he didn’t fool her. His eyes blazed and his arms were corded tight as though he were holding himself back instead of her for a change. “If you still care to see me, that is.”

  The blinds behind his desk were drawn, letting only slender slants of light cut across his face, leaving canyons and hollows she longed to explore. Now, at last, she wasn’t his student. He wasn’t her professor. They were going to date. However, despite his earlier threat, he seemed in no hurry to even touch her.

  A week my ass, she snarled. Two can play his little games. Lifting her chin, she glided over to the desk and trailed her fingers across its glossy surface as she slowly invaded his space.

  On his side of the desk, she hopped up on top and sat before him, hissing a little at the cool surface beneath her nearly bare bottom. “You know I do.”

  Gravely, he merely watched her, his face lined and dark, his mouth a firm slash.

  She couldn’t tell if he was displeased or thrilled at her bravado. “I’ve had a lot of fantasies about this desk.”

  “Like what, darlin’?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She ducked her head a little so she could peep up at him through her lashes. Deliberately, she licked her lips. His forehead creased even more and his eyes locked on her mouth. “Nothing I can admit to you.”

  The chair creaked as he leaned forward. He planted his palms on either side of her hips and fogged up the wood with the heat of his palms, but he still didn’t touch her. “You will if I tell you to.”

  Her heart was beating double time now, that familiar anticipation and the beginning of dread curling through her. Yes, yes, this was Conn, not Dr. Connagher. The mask was slipping enough that he scared her, but she loved it. I love him.

  If she pushed him hard enough, maybe he’d yank that mask clean away and take her right now on top of this big desk like she’d dreamed. “Will I?”

  Heavy lidded and dark, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not in the mood for games, Rae.”

  “That’s good,” she whispered, snuggling close enough to brush her mouth against his. “What sort of mood are you in, then?”

  He made a low ragged sound and snagged her bottom lip in his teeth, gripping hard enough she cried out. The sharp sting sent a wicked curl of heat through her. Shuddering, she opened her mouth more, silently begging for his tongue, but he released her immediately. Undeterred, she slid her palm into the neck of his shirt, relishing the velvet heat of his neck, the crisp hair barely peeking out of the top of his shirt. She even managed to get one button undone before he shackled her wrists and pulled her hands away.

  “Rae, darlin’, I can’t take your hands on me right now. It’s been one damned long semester, all this flirting and promising and teasing. I thought it’d be fun to give you a hot little spanking, but I’m too raw and ragged to pull it off without scaring the hell out of you. If I touch you right now, we’ll have the dean breaking that door down and hauling me off to prison because I’ll kill anyone who tries to keep me from you.”

  “Aw, poor Dr. Connagher. Have I been a very bad student?”

  “Very,” he retorted, squeezing her wrists harder. “Don’t push my buttons, Rae. Not today. You won’t like what you unleash. Give me a week—”

  “No.”

  His eyes flared wide and his mouth fell open with shock.

  She couldn’t help it—she laughed out loud. In fact, she felt downright giddy. After all these months, she’d finally managed to knock him off balance. As his student, she hadn’t dared antagonize him. Now… that will be half the fun. “Do you really think I slaved all semester in your class only to let you put me off again?”

  Lazily, he dragged her wrists behind her, pinning them in the small of her back just as she’d imagined. She couldn’t help but fight and twist, testing him, ensuring he really could hold her.

  I’m trapped, she realized, and at the same time, she felt a surge of wet heat between her legs. And more turned on than ever.

  “Do you really think you can get away with telling me no, Rae?”

  “No,” she purred, wriggling to the very edge of his desk to hug her thighs around him. “Make me yours, Conn.”

  “You don’t have any idea what you’re asking.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t make me wait another week.”

  A growl trickled out of his lips. Before she could even yelp, he jerked and flipped her around so that she was on her stomach in front of him on top of his desk. He leaned in, pressing his chest against her buttocks to make sure she stayed put. Her arms ached, her wrists still clamped in his hand behind her. “Anything I want, Rae? Are you sure about that?”

  Gasping, she tried to catch her breath, but the edge of the desk dug into her abdomen. When she didn’t answer quickly enough, he pushed her wrists up incrementally, making her shoulders scream with pressure. “No!”

  “No, you’re not sure?” He released her wrists but kept his chest pressed against her, bracing his arms on either side of her on top of the desk, making his body a cage. “Or no to anything I want? Or maybe now you’ll ask me nicely to let you go home to change this skirt.”

  “No.” She brought her hands up beneath her, ready to scramble out from beneath him even if that meant crawling across his desk. “I won’t go home, Dr. Connagher. Not to change. Not for a week. Sir.”

  “Well, darlin’,” he drawled, sliding his left hand forward to trap her hair beneath his palm. “I guess I get to give you that final exam after all.”

  With her anchored in place, he casually rolled his chair over to her left side. She was completely free, except for her hair, yet she didn’t dare move a muscle. She barely even breathed.

  “I warned you about what sort of thoughts ran through my mind when you wore this skirt.” His right hand kneaded a path up her hamstring. “I didn’t like sitting there watching you take my final and feeling like a damned pervert for wondering what sort of panties my student was wearing.”

  With a quick flick of his wrist, the white skirt fluttered against her back.

  Choking back her embarrassment, she shivered, imagining his dark eyes blazing, his face lined and grim. With the light-colored skirt, she hadn’t dared wear black or red panties underneath, so she hoped he wasn’t too disappointed by lacy but conservative white.

  “How does it feel, Miss Jackson, to know that your professor is eying your ass like it’s my last meal?” Lightly, he traced the incredibly tender flesh of her cheeks that peeked out of the high-cut legs. The thought of h
im actually slapping her there made her breath hitch in her throat. “To know that soon, I’m going to strip these panties off so I can find out how wet you are?”

  Her stomach churned, but she couldn’t resist arching her back in silent invitation, begging those sly fingers to explore just a bit deeper. “You are a pervert.”

  “Only for you, darlin’. If you wanted to get my hands on your ass, all you had to do was ask.”

  “Nicely?” she asked in a snide voice. She’d known a spanking would be embarrassing, but this was humiliating. Yet she knew exactly what he’d find when he stripped her bare.

  “Very nicely,” he said with a knowing chuckle that still managed to curl her toes. “When I’m done with you, darlin’, you’ll beg me to do it again.”

  His right hand cupped her bottom and he squeezed gently, far from the force she’d expected. “Here’s question number one on this final exam: have you ever been spanked by a man you’re interested in sexually?”

  “No,” she replied, and then because she couldn’t resist digging her grave deeper, she added, “and I won’t beg you, not now, and certainly not to do it again.”

  “Remember those words later, darlin’.”

  He molded her with his hand, squeezing just a bit harder, up and down the backs of each thigh, the curve of each buttock. It felt incredible, an erotic massage that had her arching her back and raising her hips, pushing into his caress. Slowly, he increased the pressure, turning her into a melted puddle on top of his desk, but he still hadn’t hurt her.

  “Question number two: I like control, Rae.”

  “That’s not a question,” she gasped out.

  He leaned closer so she could feel his heat down her left side, and only then did she realize he was breathing as hard as her.

  Sliding up to the small of her back, his hand trembled on its downward stroke across her backside. He pressed his forehead against her bare arm, and his face was hot and damp with sweat.

  The realization hit her like a two-by-four across the head. He wants me. Badly. He wants this.