Living in Shadow (Living In…) Read online

  The door of her office was open and she was sitting at her desk, marking essays from the looks of it. She must have gone home after this morning because she wore different clothes to what she’d been in the night before. A dark-charcoal skirt and deep-blue blouse. The color was a beautiful contrast to her hair and when she looked up and saw him, it gave the gray of her eyes a faint blue tinge.

  She smiled and he felt something catch inside him. A soft pause, like a note dropped from a song or a missed footfall.

  “And what can I do for you, Mr. North?”

  Dismissing the odd feeling, Luc stepped into her office. And shut the door.

  Her eyes widened. “Uh…Luc…”

  “Come here,” he ordered softly. He’d take this one last thing and then he’d be good.

  She darted a look at the door behind him, but after a moment’s hesitation, got up from her chair and came around the desk to stand in front of him. She met his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “So? What?”

  Pushing him. A very good sign indeed, since he wanted to push back.

  He reached out and gripped the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. Then he kissed her, hard and hungry at first, becoming gentler, sweeter. Committing the taste of her to memory because he was going to need it.

  She didn’t protest, her mouth opening under his, giving him back all that sweetness. And he wanted to keep on kissing her, keep exploring her, but of course he couldn’t. Not now. Or at least, not yet.

  He let her go, stepping back. “I’m not going to touch you again. I just wanted one kiss.”

  She smoothed her hair, her hand trembling. “I guess I should be grateful it’s only one. But…what do you mean you’re not going to touch me again? I thought you wanted more?”

  Was that disappointment in her eyes? He fucking hoped it was. “I do. But I don’t want to put you in a bad position with your job.”

  Eleanor turned away, going back to her desk and sitting down, smoothing her skirt, getting herself back in order. But there was no hiding that flush in her cheeks. Or the glitter in her eyes. It made him feel way too fucking smug for his own good.

  “You haven’t got long before you finish your degree, though, have you?” She put her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “I mean, if you’re talking about us waiting until you’ve finished…”

  “Two whole semesters.” Which was about six months. And way too damn long to go without touching her.

  “Oh,” she said.

  He was being a prick, but he liked that her disappointed look meant she obviously thought six months was way too long too. “Don’t want to wait?”

  Her sharp, gray eyes came to his. “Why? Do you?”

  Luc smiled. “Not in the fucking slightest. Which is why I’ve found a workaround. I’ve just finished speaking with the dean about completing my last few semesters at Victoria.”

  She frowned. “But that’s six hundred kilometers away.”

  Victoria University was in Wellington, down at the other end of the North Island from Auckland. Clearly she thought he was going to move down there.

  He smiled. “Don’t worry, soleil, I’m going to complete them by distance education.”

  Which meant he could take the courses online and stay in Auckland. But most importantly of all, since he’d be at a completely different university, it meant Eleanor wouldn’t be his professor anymore.

  She sat back in her chair, her eyes going wide. “You’d really leave the law school here for me?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me. As long as I get a degree at the end of it, I’m happy.”

  The flush in her cheeks had deepened. “That’s…a pretty big thing to do, Luc. Just so we can…” She stopped.

  “Sleep together?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  A thread of tension pulled tight inside him. “You said you wanted more.”

  She let out a soft breath. “And I do. But I don’t want you to do something that might put your degree at risk. At least not on my account.”

  Luc stepped forward, putting his hands on the edge of her desk, leaning forward and looking her in the eye. “And don’t you think you might be worth it, Eleanor May?”

  But she didn’t look away and he had the strange feeling that she was the one doing the confronting for a change, that sharp gaze of hers seeing into him. “No,” she said bluntly, “I don’t. We’ve had sex, Luc, and, sure, it was pretty good sex, but good enough to completely rearrange a four-year degree so you can keep having it?”

  Irritation needled at him. “I’m not rearranging my degree. All it is, is taking my last couple of papers by distance.”

  “You’re changing universities for me.”

  “Why shouldn’t I change universities for you?”

  “So you’ll change universities, but you won’t talk about your tattoos?”

  The irritation bit deeper. And it was all the more annoying because he had no fucking comeback to that. She’d told him everything about the horrible things that had happened to her, given him her trust, while he couldn’t even talk about the marks on his hands.

  But shit, what else could he do? He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t let out that darkness. Would he still have her trust if she knew he was a killer? And he hadn’t just killed one or two people either.

  As if she knew, as if she could read his fucking mind, her gaze dropped to his wrist, where he’d tied those pieces of fabric. The fabric from the clothes of his victims so he wouldn’t forget. Because there were so many and he…he’d become dead inside.

  He couldn’t let her ask any more questions, especially not about that.

  Luc reached across her desk and grabbed her chin, forcing her gaze away from his wrist so she was looking at him instead. “It’s too late now. It’s done,” he said forcefully. “We’ll have two weeks until it’s all finalized and then we can do whatever the hell we want.”

  She didn’t pull away. “And until then?”

  “Until then I’ll be the perfect student.” He ran this thumb over her lower lip, unable to resist. “But I don’t want to give up seeing you entirely. We could have coffee. I think that’s allowed.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth, her lips soft beneath the touch of his thumb. “Coffee is definitely allowed.”

  So he’d managed to distract her. Good.

  Releasing her, Luc straightened. “How does Thursday after your lecture sound?”

  “That sounds good.” She leaned back in her chair, one elbow on the arm of it. “But don’t think for a moment I didn’t notice that change of subject.”

  Oh Jesus. She was way too smart for her own good.

  Luc made himself smile. “We’ll talk about it Thursday. Either that or I’ll have to think of other ways to distract you.”

  He’d think of ways. He’d have to. Because there was no way, no way in hell, he could ever tell her the truth.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eleanor looked for Luc during class on Thursday and, sure enough, he was there. Not in his usual place in the front row, but he was there, up in the back talking with friends. He looked at her when she spoke, but only with intellectual interest as he made notes.

  Good. Very good. If he’d gotten all intense, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to concentrate on the damn lecture.

  After class there was the usual crowd of students waiting with questions. She caught Luc’s eye as he left and he gave her a brief nod, having a word with his friends before coming over to join the crowd with questions.

  She hadn’t seen him since Tuesday—only a few days, but it felt like much longer. And she felt stupidly excited at the prospect of coffee with him. Which was ridiculous.

  Yet her heartbeat accelerated as she dealt with the questions, and she couldn’t wait to get rid of them all so she had Luc to herself.

  Their eyes met as the last student walked out, leaving them alone together. And for a second, the intensity she remembered from the encounters in his bedroom showed through, and she had
to catch her breath.

  Christ, she really was like a fucking teenage girl.

  “Glad you could meet me, Mr. North,” she said, trying to keep things neutral.

  He smiled, playing along. “Of course, Professor May. I would meet with you anytime.”

  “So…” she collected her things and shoved them into her briefcase before closing it up with a snap, “…coffee?”

  “Definitely coffee. Do you have time to go downtown?”

  So they could be away from the eyes of the university, presumably. Not a bad idea. Students and staff often went for coffee in cafés that weren’t on campus; it wouldn’t be unusual.

  “Sure.” She picked up her briefcase. “Let’s go.”

  Luc clearly had a place in mind as they headed off campus and down the hill toward Auckland’s city center.

  “You haven’t found us a nice little alcove again, have you?” she asked only half-jokingly as they walked. “Because you seemed pretty firm about the no-touching thing.”

  “I was tempted, believe me. But there isn’t a café around that would give us privacy enough for that.”

  “Pity.”

  He gave her a single hot, burning glance. “I did find one where no one would overhear us. That could be as good.”

  Oh hell. With the kind of dirty mouth he had, she was thinking it probably was.

  The café he took her to was in one of the little streets off the city’s main drag, on the second floor of an old, historic building. It was a real student hangout, with old couches and mismatched coffee tables, the décor imitating someone’s laid-back lounge.

  Luc got them a table out on the balcony and since it was the only table out there, he wasn’t wrong in that there would be no one to overhear them.

  She tried not to dwell too much on that because Monday night and Luc’s hands on her felt like years ago. And she was hungry for more.

  Yet as she sat down, it wasn’t only his hands and his dirty talking she was thinking about.

  She couldn’t forget the walls that had come down behind his eyes the minute she’d mentioned his tattoos again in her office. Or the way he’d distracted her with his fingers on her chin. And yes, she’d been absolutely aware of the fact he’d distracted her.

  Since they were in public now and, regardless of whether they could be overheard or not, she was aiming for a few answers where he wouldn’t pull any of his Dom shit.

  You kind of want him to.

  Eleanor pushed that thought firmly away as Luc came back from ordering coffees at the counter.

  He was all in black today and it suited him, the dark color making him look even more dangerous than he usually did. Like a big, predatory cat hunting for prey.

  Christ, you’re ridiculous.

  “So what brought you to teaching?”

  It wasn’t quite the question she’d been expecting, for some reason. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I mean, you’ve got an undergraduate degree, a master’s. A doctorate. All those degrees on your office wall, Eleanor. Yet you never thought of practicing yourself?”

  “Not really,” she said and let out a breath. This was moderately painful territory but, hell, why not tell him? She’d told him almost everything else. “Piers told me once I’d never make it as a teacher. That I didn’t have either the brains or the patience.” She lifted a shoulder. “So…”

  “You had to prove him wrong.”

  “He kept me studying because he thought I needed it. And after the divorce, I had all these degrees. I had to do something with them all.”

  He cocked his head. “But not practice law?”

  “I never really thought about it, to be honest.” And she hadn’t. Not when she’d spent the years after her divorce single-mindedly shoving the past away and concentrating only on her academic career.

  Luc leaned his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together, and helplessly she found her gaze drawn to his hands. The tattoos. The cuff. “I think you’d be an amazing lawyer. You’ve got so much passion for your subject and when you speak people really listen.”

  “But I like teaching.”

  “Yeah, but don’t you want to make a difference to people’s lives? An actual difference?”

  There was an intensity in his voice she hadn’t heard before. Tearing her gaze from his hands, she glanced up at him. His strong, beautiful features were set in fierce lines, dark eyes compelling. This was something that really mattered to him.

  “I make a difference teaching students.”

  “I’m not talking about students; I’m talking about other people. Like…people my dad used to help, for example. Ordinary people who get caught up in trauma. In war. Who have to leave their homes, their countries, find somewhere else to go. Who have no one to protect them.”

  She found herself sitting there, mesmerized by the look in his eyes. By the passion in his voice.

  “I want to help those people, Eleanor. But charities like the ones my parents worked for can only do so much. And they can’t do anything at all when the law of a country breaks down.” He paused, as if he was weighing what he had to say next. “I saw what it was like to have anarchy. I was there when the law broke down and the people with the biggest guns were the ones in charge. And everyone suffers when that happens. Everyone. Law is important. The rules that govern a society are important. Law can help people and that’s what I want to do. That’s what I want to be part of.”

  He was talking from experience. She could see that as clearly as the black ink on his skin.

  The waitress brought their coffees at that point, granting her a moment to watch him as he dropped a couple of sugar cubes into his espresso.

  “What are you looking for, Professor?” he asked, not taking his attention from his coffee, stirring it slowly. “Whatever it is, I would stop.” There was a hard note in his voice.

  “Nothing. I’m just impressed. This is personal for you, isn’t it?”

  “My parents were shot in front of me. So yeah, it’s personal.”

  Christ, of course.

  Eleanor dropped her spoon and reached out instinctively to him, covering his hand where it rested on the table beside his cup. “Shit, I’m sorry, Luc,” she said softly. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you but… God. I don’t even know what to say.”

  He turned his head, looking down at where her hand covered his. And he stared at it for what seemed like a long time. Then slowly he turned his hand over so hers rested in his palm, curling his fingers so that her hand was enveloped in the warmth of his. “You don’t have to say anything.” He paused. “Not when you’re touching me.”

  The gentle heat of his skin seeped into her and she felt it like an ache deep inside. A sweet, unbearable ache.

  “You know you can tell me anything,” she said suddenly. Instinctively. “Anything at all.”

  He looked up at her and she didn’t quite understand the look in his eyes. Regret, maybe. Wariness. Even a touch of fear.

  “I mean,” she went on, babbling now, “I basically spilled my guts to you about Piers, so anything you want to talk about is fine with me.”

  An expression flickered through that dark, impenetrable gaze but she still couldn’t tell what it was.

  “Thanks for the offer, Professor. But I have nothing I want to talk about.” His thumb moved, a gentle stroke over the center of her palm, sending a shock wave of heat straight through her. “I’ve got other things I’d rather be doing.”

  He was distracting her again. “What don’t you want to tell me, Luc?” she asked quietly. “Whatever it is, I can take it.”

  His thumb kept up that stroking movement, making her shiver. “I’ve been fantasizing,” he murmured, as if she hadn’t spoken, “about what I want to do to you once my transfer comes through. And I’ve got lots of ideas.”

  He wasn’t going to tell her, was he?

  “I thought I’d tie you down next time. Not only your wrists, but your legs too. Tie th
em so they’re spread wide for me. So I can do whatever the fuck I want with you. And I’d put a blindfold on you so all you have to do is feel.”

  Why was that so disappointing? Why did it make her feel as if she was missing out on something?

  “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” She kept her voice low. “You’re distracting me to protect yourself, Luc. And fine, if you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to. I’m not going to force you. But if you think not talking about it makes it go away, you’re shit out of luck.” She began to remove her hand, only to have his fingers close tightly around her, holding her fast.

  “I’m doing what I have to do to survive,” he said fiercely. “And if that’s not talking about it, if that’s not thinking about it, then that’s what I’m going to fucking do. Some things need to stay in the past where they belong. Okay?”

  It wasn’t okay, though. And looking into his dark, beautiful face, she could see that he knew it too.

  She swallowed. “Luc—”

  “Let me touch you, mon rayon de soleil. For fuck’s sake, please. I just need…to feel warm.”

  There was no way she could deny him.

  So she left her hand where it was.

  Luc stood by the park gates watching the crowd shuffling by. All the streets around Albert Park, Auckland’s central city park, had been closed off in preparation for one of the highlights of Auckland’s festival calendar—the Lantern Festival to celebrate the Chinese New Year. The event was usually packed and tonight was no exception, the massive crowd winding its way through stalls selling food and jewelry, clothes and gifts, and, of course, Chinese lanterns. Music played and dotted throughout Albert Park’s green expanse, under the massive pohutakawa trees, were lanterns shaped in the form of animals or people, lit up from the inside.

  Normally he didn’t much like being in crowds with lots of noise going on. He had too many bad memories associated with the thick press of people and sudden, loud sounds. But tonight he was too desperate for Eleanor to wait.

  He’d received the confirmation only today that all the paperwork had gone through, that he was now a distance student with Victoria University. He’d texted her immediately to let her know that they were free to start seeing each other properly.