Living in Shadow (Living In…) Page 3

  “I don’t give a shit about your age,” he said. “So if you’re trying to warn me away you need to think of something else.”

  She took a slow breath. “Ah, so we’re going to have this conversation, are we?”

  “What conversation?”

  “The one where you tell me you’re attracted to me and I tell you that this kind of conversation is inappropriate. That I’m your professor and liaisons between staff and students are prohibited.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, standing there with his hands in his pockets, motionless. “You sound like you’ve had it before,” he said eventually.

  “More than once.” With a couple of younger guys looking for a mother figure and settling on her. Those occasions had been easy ones to nip in the bud, the kids embarrassed and easily deflected once she’d spoken to them.

  And you didn’t want them.

  She didn’t want Lucien either. No. Definitely not. She pasted on her usual smile, ignoring the unease that sat in her gut. “So? Are we going to have that conversation or not?”

  “I think you’re under a misapprehension about what I want, Professor.”

  Her fingers curled hard on her briefcase handle. Oh fuck. Had she read him entirely wrong then? It was possible. It had been a long time since anyone had shown any interest in her. “Am I? You’d better tell me then, hadn’t you?”

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Stop playing games with me, Mr. North. I don’t have either the time or the patience.”

  He didn’t move, but it felt as if the room were suddenly too small to contain both of them and oxygen as well. “Okay then, so no more games. I’m not going to tell you I’m attracted to you, Professor, no. What I’d like to do is take you home and fuck you senseless.”

  The words hung in the silence of the lecture theatre like profanities in a church.

  She’d thought she’d long gotten past the stage of being shocked. She was wrong. And what made it even worse was the way those provocative words struck home, flaming arrows that set a part of her alight. And other parts dry mouthed with fear…

  “Hmmm. I can see we might have to have a little chat with the dean about that.” Her voice was perfectly calm, perfectly level. Masking her shock so he wouldn’t see. So he wouldn’t know. “In fact, even saying those words could get you suspended.”

  “I realize that. But you asked me what I wanted. So I told you.”

  She could get him suspended if she wanted to, she knew that. But she also knew she wasn’t going to. He hadn’t done anything, after all, only been inappropriate. Besides, going straight to the dean would only prove that she couldn’t handle this on her own and she damn well could. He was only a student and she’d dealt with inappropriate students before.

  Eleanor forced herself to hold her briefcase by her side instead of in front her like a shield. Relaxed her fingers on the handle. “So, you want to fuck me,” she said easily. “Well, honey, I have to say, you wouldn’t be the first and you probably won’t be the last. But I don’t screw students. I never have and I’m not about to start with you, understand? Besides, I prefer men to boys. Now…” she met his gaze, ice cool, “…is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Lucien’s expression didn’t change, but the dark glitter in his eyes became a little more intense. “So I guess there’s no point asking if you feel the same?”

  “No.” The word was as firm and as flat as she could make it. “None.”

  “Like I said,” he murmured, “you’re a terrible liar, Professor.” He began to turn back toward the doors. “But hey, I guess we can’t all be honest about our feelings.”

  Eleanor opened her mouth to tell him that she was being honest, but he held up a hand and for some reason the words died in her throat like he’d commanded them to. “When you’re ready to admit you want me too, let me know. I’ll be around.”

  Then he turned and strode through the doors.

  “Fuck,” Eleanor muttered to the empty room.

  She didn’t want him. She didn’t want to do anything with him. All the places this kind of thing led to were bad ones and she didn’t want to go there. Not again.

  For the past few years her life had been an intellectual one and she’d been happy with that. Hadn’t wanted more. She knew the consequences of desire, of passion, an experience she never wanted to repeat. But Lucien’s presence had made her aware of the parts of herself she’d been ignoring for too long.

  Perhaps that had nothing to do with him, though. He was an attractive man. He’d make any woman aware of certain parts of themselves they’d been neglecting. It didn’t mean anything.

  Anyway, she had a vibrator and an imagination. She didn’t need an actual cock attached to an actual man. Been there, done that. Had the bruises from her ex-husband to show for it.

  Piers, who’d seduced then manipulated and abused her. The man who’d started out as her professor…

  Eleanor forced the memories out of her head. No, that had been years ago and she was so much stronger now. Armored. So she wouldn’t be letting good looks and sexual attraction blind her. Not these days. And most especially not with Lucien North.

  Chapter Three

  “You know what I think?” Kahu said, leaning his hip against the bar.

  Eleanor had a suspicion she knew already. She’d had fifteen years of hearing Kahu Winter’s thoughts on various subjects and she was pretty familiar with his opinions. “Don’t tell me. I know already.”

  Kahu didn’t even pause. “I think you should fuck him. I mean, he’s young. He’s hot. He wants you. Why the hell not?”

  The Ivy Room of the Auckland Club, the old gentlemen’s club that Kahu had bought a couple of years ago and now ran himself, was full of lunchtime drinkers. Members only, of course. Membership was highly sought after in various circles of Auckland society—mostly the rich tosser circles, as Kahu liked to call them—and ridiculously hard to come by. No one quite knew what made Kahu grant one person a membership card and not another.

  It wasn’t money and it wasn’t class. Or power. Or fame. No one knew but Kahu himself. And Eleanor, who’d gotten the truth out of him after too many scotches one night. Apparently he just liked to screw with people. Which, if you knew Kahu, was typical.

  “I can think of several reasons why not,” she said, turning the coaster her glass of rosé sat on. “He’s one of my students, for one. And surely you haven’t forgotten what happened with Piers.”

  Kahu shook his head. Tall, tattooed, part Maori and muscled like a gladiator, he was nothing if not eye catching. “How could I forget? But this situation is entirely different from you and Piers. You’re not into mindfuckery, for a start.”

  She’d casually mentioned Lucien and his interest in her, and Kahu had instantly leapt to his usual conclusion: sex.

  “He’s still younger than me. And I’m still his professor.”

  “How old are we talking here?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  Kahu raised a brow. “So, older than the average student then.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “That’s hardly a baby, Ell.”

  “Kahu—”

  “Like half the faculty isn’t either screwing their students or each other. Just do it. Screw the rules too.”

  Again, typical Kahu. He’d never met a rule he didn’t like to break. But this was about more than merely rule breaking. “I can’t. Look, even if I was tempted, and let’s be clear here, I’m not, sleeping with a much younger student isn’t exactly the best way to ensure a long lasting academic career. And despite all of that, how would that make me any better than Piers?”

  “Well, Lucien’s not a naïve twenty-year-old woman and you’re not a manipulative forty-year-old shithead. Also, he propositioned you, not the other way around.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is? It’s not like you’re going to marry the guy, right?”

  She let out a breath, a
nnoyed. Kahu had a way of making the most problematic issue seem like not that much of a big deal. “I’m not sleeping with him, Kahu. Anyway, the power dynamic is just so wrong.”

  He looked at her from underneath ridiculously long, thick lashes. “Which is what makes it so delicious,” he purred.

  “Oh stop it.”

  “I’m serious. Forbidden sex is the best kind of sex there is.”

  And he would know. He’d spent the better part of ten years sleeping with most of the female population of Auckland, not to mention various other countries. And probably some of the male too, though he’d never admitted to anything explicitly.

  “It could lose me my job,” she pointed out.

  “It could be worth it.”

  “What? Five minutes of pleasure, compared to losing my livelihood?”

  He frowned at her. “Five minutes? I’d be asking for my money back if all I got was five minutes.”

  “The point, Kahu, is that—”

  “The point, Eleanor,” he interrupted gently, “is that you haven’t seen a naked penis in nearly three years.”

  His words fell neatly into a small lull in the conversation of the room. She didn’t turn around in her seat at the bar, but she knew every damn eye was on her.

  She glared at Kahu, promising unspoken retribution. He gave her a wicked grin, not unlike the grin that Luc had given her back in the lecture theatre, now that she thought about it.

  Fucking playboys.

  “Yes,” she said steadily, after she’d waited for the rest of the bar to recover from the shock of hearing the word penis spoken in the middle of the day, along with their lunch, “and look how well that turned out?” A nice man, like the nice man before him. Intellectuals with lots of respect for her and her personal space. Polite, decent guys who had nevertheless left her feeling…as if something was lacking.

  What do you mean something? You know what.

  Yeah, unfortunately she did. The fact that they were polite, decent guys, for a start. Because she’d never wanted polite and decent. She wanted dominance. She wanted to be told what to do and when to do it. To not think, only surrender.

  It had been something that Piers had tapped into when she’d gotten involved with him and he’d shown her how powerful submission could be. How much pleasure she could get from it. And in the end, he’d shown her how badly it could go wrong.

  She never wanted to go back to that again.

  “I know,” Kahu said, his grin becoming more wicked. “They just didn’t measure up to me.”

  Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

  He didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. “No, spare me your honesty. And don’t tell me that that put you off, otherwise I shall go into a decline.”

  Unfortunately it kind of had. Not because Kahu had been a terrible lover but because she’d been with him for the wrong reasons—to try and recover from Piers. And she’d been scared. Too scared to ask for what she’d really wanted, and Kahu had been too worried about her to insist.

  She shook her head, not wanting to hurt him, but knowing lying wouldn’t help either. “We talked about it, remember? It wasn’t you.”

  “It kind of was.”

  “Yes, but not in a bad way. We were better friends, you know that.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean ‘were’?”

  She grinned at that. “Okay, are.”

  “That’s better.” Kahu turned and looked out over the room, the décor wood paneled, with bookshelves and club chairs, echoing the gentlemen’s club it had once been. His gaze settled on a lovely blonde in one corner typing furiously into a mobile phone. “I still think you should fuck him.”

  “Haven’t we been over this already?”

  “What? You came here to tell me all about him and ask for my advice. What did you expect me to say?”

  Good point. Kahu was all about living in the moment, taking what you could from life before it vanished, not being bound by the rules. Doing what you pleased. Of course he’d suggest the opposite of what she knew she should do.

  You wanted him to. That’s why you told him.

  Eleanor shifted on her barstool. “I don’t know,” she said. “Something intelligent?”

  “Fuck intelligent. You’ve been living like a nun for three years, Eleanor. What’s wrong with wanting to break out?”

  Eleanor picked up her wineglass and took a sip. The rosé was cool and delicious against her tongue. “You should watch yourself,” she said, savoring the taste. “You’re starting to sound a little too like my sassy, gay best friend.”

  Kahu laughed, glancing at her, dark eyes alight. Good. Too often these days his eyes hadn’t had any light in them at all. He smiled and laughed but sometimes there was nothing behind it. She’d tried to talk to him about it on the odd occasion but he’d always changed the subject. Or turned it into a joke. Midlife crisis. Existential angst. The sudden terrible need to go buy a Ferrari.

  She didn’t press him. Mostly because some days she felt like that herself.

  “I could be your sassy, gay best friend if you’d like me to.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll settle for my sassy man-whore instead.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I think I prefer rake to man-whore.”

  “Same difference.”

  “No, it isn’t. A man-whore does it for money. A rake does it for pleasure.”

  “That sounds like a tattoo in the making.”

  He smiled. “Eleanor, my darling, you are deflecting.”

  Crap. Old friends could be pains in the ass at times. She took another sip of her wine. “It’s not as simple as ‘just fuck him’, Kahu, and you know it.”

  “Bullshit. Of course it’s that simple. And it’s been eight years since Piers. So you either do something about it or you don’t. All those other reasons are only excuses…” he shifted against the bar, “…because you’re scared.”

  Eleanor frowned. “I’m not—”

  “If he wasn’t your student and younger than you, what would you do?”

  She looked down at her wine. “I’d say no then too. It’s too fucking complicated.”

  “Complicated is the last thing fucking is, darling. Complicated is what you tell yourself because you don’t want to admit that you’re afraid.”

  She rubbed her thumb over the base of her wineglass, uncomfortable all of a sudden.

  No, Christ, she wasn’t scared nowadays. Okay, so she hadn’t been with anyone for a while—maybe too long—but she was pretty okay with that. And hell, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t come across any other handsome men in that time. Luc wasn’t different. It was only that maybe the way he looked at her was. As if he’d seen the woman behind the professor, the woman she thought had died a long time ago.

  You like that.

  No. She didn’t. Most definitely not.

  “Afraid?” she said at last. “What would I be afraid of?”

  Kahu lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m not your therapist. But fear is always the first thing that makes people use excuses to hide behind.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  He looked at her, clearly skeptical. “Really?”

  “Of course not. Refusing someone’s advances doesn’t mean I’m afraid.”

  “You want him, though, don’t you?”

  Her friend’s dark eyes were direct and for some reason she found herself looking away. “He’s…attractive,” she allowed. “But I’m not going there.”

  There was a small silence. Then Kahu said, “Not all men are like Piers, Ell. Remember that.”

  A small bolt of irritation went through her. Of course she knew that, but it didn’t change the fact that getting involved with someone again wasn’t what she wanted right now, if ever. Yes, it had been a long time since Piers, but it had taken her years to get over the guilt and the anger after her divorce had come through. The way he’d used her desires against her, dealing out physical abuse when she didn’t understand that she could say
no. Telling her they didn’t need safe words, not when they loved each other. Using her trust against her. Until one night he’d shattered not only the trust she had in him, but the trust she had in herself.

  It had taken time to build that back up. To recover. And she wasn’t going to give that trust so easily to anyone again.

  Control, that’s what she had to maintain these days. That was so much easier. Safer. And it sure as hell meant no one would ever hurt her again.

  Eleanor let out a breath. “I do remember that. I’m only being cautious.”

  “Why? What’s there to be cautious about? It’s only sex.”

  But sex was never only sex. Not where she was concerned. If it had been, that night with Kahu would have helped. Certainly it would have been a whole lot less awkward.

  She took another sip of her rosé then put the glass down on the bar with a click. “Hey, what’s with all this pressure? That wasn’t what I came here for.”

  Kahu sighed, put a hand over hers where it sat on her wineglass. A reassurance. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention. I was only trying to get you to stop overanalyzing it. It’s not a legal problem you have to solve, okay?”

  “Overanalyzing? Me?”

  He smiled. “If I thought about everything I did, the way you do, I’d never get anything fucking done.” His hand dropped from hers as he pushed himself away from the bar. “And speaking of fucking…” The smile lingered on his sensual mouth, his usual charming I’m irresistible and you know it smile. It wasn’t directed at Eleanor but the blonde in the corner, who had put her phone down and was now giving him the eye in return.

  Eleanor shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “No, I’m honest about what I want.” He flashed her a glance. “And what I want is only happiness for you, Ell. You know that.”

  I guess we can’t all be honest about our feelings…

  She tried to ignore the sound of Luc’s voice in her head. “I do.”

  “Remember that caution…” he said the word like he was tasting it and not enjoying the taste, “…is for children and old people. And you’re not either of those things. Ditch the caution for once, Eleanor. Live a little. God knows you deserve it.” With that he stepped away from the bar and began to thread his way through the tables toward the blonde in the corner.