Break the Sky (Spiral of Bliss Spin Off) (30 page)

“But—”

“Forget it, Tess. It’s over.”

I almost felt the frustration radiating from her. Before she could say anything else, I turned to go into my office. I shut the door and locked myself in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

KELSEY

AN INTIMIDATING PORTRAIT OF VICTOR KING
, the founder of King’s University, glowered down at me from the wall of the chancellor’s office reception area. Steel-haired and frowning, old Victor looked as if he’d never laughed once in his life.

I nudged Stan with my elbow and nodded toward the portrait.

“Think he’s constipated?” I asked under my breath.

Stan chuckled. “He must be. He’s been stuck on that wall since I started working at King’s over thirty years ago.”

I tried to imagine working at King’s for thirty years.

“Why did you start studying meteorology?” I asked Stan, somewhat surprised I didn’t already know.

“I loved the Ben Franklin story when I was a kid,” he replied. “Thought it was so cool that electricity came from the sky. I always remembered that.”

“It’s funny that meteorologists love weather and nature, but so many of us end up in a classroom or sitting in front of a computer.”

Stan looked at me. “You’re still thinking about that reality show?”

“A little.” I shrugged. I’d told him about the Explorer Channel’s offer in case they contacted him at some point. I’d also told him that I’d turned the offer down.

“It’s not really the show itself,” I admitted. “I mean, sure it sounds fun, but can you imagine what that kind of exposure would do for tornado research? For the Spiral Project?”

Stan gave me a weary smile. “You know, when you applied for a position at King’s, I was one of the professors who didn’t want to hire you.”

“Really? Why not?”

“I knew you’d rock the boat. Maybe even tip it over.”

“I’m a meteorologist, right? I like waves.”

Stan chuckled again. “More than any other meteorologist I’ve known.”

“So are you so sorry I was hired, then?” I asked.

“No, because you’re damn good. I wasn’t wrong, though. You’re a spitfire. Sorry if that sounds sexist, but I’m old school.” He shook his head. “And I admit I’ve been impressed with how relentlessly you go after what you want.”

“I don’t always get what I want, though.”

“But you take no prisoners in your attempt.”

Unease pricked the back of my mind. “Stan, did you really mean it the other day when you said my conduct could hurt the Meteorology department’s standing with the administration? Like with expanding the faculty or getting money for an upgraded lab?”

Stan shrugged. “You wouldn’t be solely responsible, no. But everything we do reflects on our department. That’s just the way it is.”

He glanced at me again. “So why did you become a meteorologist instead of a fighter pilot?”

I smiled. “My father. He loved weather. So do I.”

I looked at my watch. Ten more minutes before our meeting with Chancellor Radcliffe, when I would learn my fate at King’s University. My cell buzzed with a text. I pulled up the screen.

The sky is blue, storm girl.

The tightness around my heart eased. I still hadn’t seen Archer since we’d come back to Mirror Lake. Five days now. I’d promised to call him after our meeting. I slipped the phone back into my bag and exhaled slowly.

This day had been looming for a very long time, but I hadn’t wanted to think about it. Because no matter what the outcome, the first person I’d have called would have been my mother.

“Professors March and Baxter, Chancellor Radcliffe is ready to see you,” the receptionist said.

Tension knotted my stomach as we walked into the office. The chancellor greeted us, and we sat in the chairs in front of his massive, oak desk.

“Professor March, I’ve reviewed your tenure file and the board’s recommendation,” Radcliffe said, settling back in his leather chair. “You have an impressive CV and have been an excellent asset to this university for the past seven years.”

“Thank you.” I folded my hands to stop them from shaking.

“And I would like to reiterate the importance of tenure to this university,” Radcliffe continued. “By giving you a permanent position here, we expect that you will conduct yourself according to the regulations and contractual duties we set forth.”

I nodded. I understood that I was receiving a warning, and for a moment I faltered in my belief that Radcliffe had approved my tenure.

The thought didn’t trouble me as much as it should have. Since receiving that call from the Explorer Channel, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about running off to chase tornados.

It was a stupid thought, of course. If I were fired from King’s, I’d really lose all hope of future funding for the Spiral Project. And I’d told Tess the truth—I’d be devastated if I lost the support and help of my graduate students.

Even more, I’d miss them. They had always been the best part of my professorial career.

But that didn’t stop a tiny part of me from wondering what it would be like to be on the road again, chasing storms. With Archer.

Which I couldn’t do as a tenured professor.

I took a deep breath and focused on the chancellor, who was still rambling on about my duties. Finally he wound down the lecture and pushed to his feet.

“Congratulations, Professor March.” Radcliffe extended his hand with a smile. “Based on the unanimous recommendation of your department and the board, I’ve approved your appointment for tenure.”

All the breath escaped my lungs. Relief bloomed inside me, the unraveling of months of tension and pressure.

Kelsey March, tenured professor in the Meteorology department of King’s University. Exactly what my parents wanted. Exactly what I’d worked so hard for over the last twelve years.

“Thank you, sir.” I shook the chancellor’s hand, and turned to accept Stan’s congratulations.

I barely heard anything else as Radcliffe went on about the prestige of tenure before he walked us to the door. After we said goodbye, Stan and I walked out into the spring sunshine. My heart was racing, my stomach still tight with nerves.

“So, do you want to come back to the department?” Stan asked. For the first time since I’d known him, he looked faintly uncertain. “I know everyone will want to congratulate you.”

“Thank you. If you could…” Something stuck in my throat. I started backing away from him. “Um, if you could just let people know I’m heading home for a while, I’d appreciate it.”

“Okay. Congratulations, Kelsey. You really do deserve it.”

“Thank you.”

I turned and hurried toward the parking lot, digging into my bag for my keys. Without thinking too much or too hard, I drove to the Butterfly House. Archer’s Harley was parked in the front, but there were no other cars, which meant he was alone.

As I walked to the house, the trailer door opened and Archer started down the steps. He caught sight of me and stopped. I fought the urge to run toward him.

“The meeting just ended.” I started to shake in a delayed reaction as I approached. “Chancellor Radcliffe and everyone else approved my tenure.”

“Of course they did.” He extended his arms.

I walked right into them. Buried my face against his chest. Swallowed the lump in my throat. His T-shirt smelled like sawdust and sweat.

He pressed his lips against my hair. He didn’t say anything else. Tenure was the brass ring every professor wanted. But Archer knew I’d grabbed it while falling, tipping forward into darkness.

“Come in,” he said. “You deserve a toast.”

I followed him into the trailer and sat at the table while he poured two glasses of chocolate milk. He clinked his glass against mine.

“Congratulations,” he said. “Have you called Liv and Dean yet?”

I shook my head. “I just heard before coming here.”

If he thought it was weird that I’d come to him first, he didn’t show it. It certainly didn’t feel weird—not to me, at least. It felt right.

We drank the milk in silence. I looked past him out the window to where the Butterfly House stood in its gorgeous splendor.

I couldn’t find the courage to ask Archer when he would be leaving. Couldn’t stand the thought of being here alone, locked into my permanent, tenured position, struggling to find enthusiasm for classroom teaching when my heart was out in the wildness of nature.

Oh, stop it.

I’d been granted tenure, for god’s sake. I’d worked my ass off for it. I wasn’t going to whine about achieving a distinction few people did. One that guaranteed I’d be set for life.

But oh my god, would I miss Archer. I’d miss his recklessness, his commands, his bad jokes, the heat that sizzled between us. I’d miss his unpredictability, his flashes of darkness. I’d miss the way he made me feel so alive. So wanted. So—

“Well.” I stood to put my empty glass in the sink. “I just wanted to stop by and tell you the news.”

“I’m glad you did. You deserve this.”

I nodded. He was close to me. I gave over to the urge to lean against him one more time. Felt his arms enclose me, and the heat of his muscles through the cotton of his T-shirt. His warmth spread through me, melting the hard, icy ball that had been stuck in my chest ever since I got the phone call about my mother.

Holy hell. A month had passed since I’d walked into Dean’s office and smacked Archer upside the head with a door. In that short time span, my life had both veered wildly off course and stayed unwaveringly on the same narrow path I’d constructed years ago.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. I slipped my hands under Archer’s T-shirt to touch the planes of his abdomen. He flinched slightly at my touch.

“Sorry,” I whispered against his chest. “My hands are cold.”

I
was cold. Everywhere. I needed him to warm me from the inside out.

No. I needed him to make me burn.

I lifted my head, saw the darkness of his eyes before he slowly lowered his head and captured my mouth in a kiss.

I sighed, sinking against him. I slipped my arms around his waist to touch his smooth, muscular back.

My tension shifted into urgency and the drive to obliterate everything else with pure, carnal pleasure. I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss, moving one hand around to trail along the front of his jeans.

“Kelsey…” Tension laced his arms.

I pressed the length of my body against his, squirming against the burgeoning hardness of his erection. My nipples budded against my bra.

I suddenly wanted us both naked, skin sliding against skin, my breasts bared to his touch, his muscles flexing beneath my hands. I wanted to hear his deep voice issuing orders. I wanted him to tell me what to do. I wanted him to control me. I wanted to be controlled.

I slid my tongue into Archer’s mouth and fumbled for the buttons of his fly. My heart pounded with anticipation as I unfastened one button, longing for the sensation of his warm, hard shaft in my palm.

“Stop.” His hoarse command broke through my fog of pleasure.

A hint of fear rose in me. I spread my hands over his chest.

“Come on, Archer,” I whispered, pressing my mouth to his again. “I want you to fuck me.”

A shudder coursed through him. I trailed my fingers over the line of hair leading to his fly. God, he felt so good. My nerves sizzled with anticipation.

“Kelsey, I…”

“I want you to fuck me hard and rough,” I continued, nipping his lower lip between my teeth. “I want you to spank me. I want to spread my legs for you, and I want you to pound into me over and over, so hard that my whole body shakes. I want to tighten my pussy around you, cream all over your cock, and—”

“Kelsey, stop.” Archer grabbed my wrists, halting my increasing exploration.

Shocked, I stumbled back and yanked my arms from his grip. Our breathing rasped through the air. I shoved a swath of hair away from my face and stared at him.

“What?” I snapped.

“You don’t want that. Not now.”

“The hell I don’t.” A rising humiliation scorched my chest. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

His mouth compressed with regret, but he looked me in the eye and shook his head. A column of heat rose up my spine. I bit out a curse and shoved him in the chest.

“Bastard.”

I turned to stalk out the door. He grabbed me around the waist before I could escape, pulling me back against him, his arms wrapping around me in an unbreakable hold. Anger shot through me.

“Let go,” I snapped.

“No.” He locked his arms around mine, trapping them against my sides.

His chest was a solid wall against my back, and I knew even as I struggled that there was no escape. My throat constricted.

“To hell with you if you don’t want me.” I hated that my voice wavered.

“I want you,” Archer said. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone. But I won’t let you run. Not from me. Not from yourself.”

An upwelling of emotion, hot and painful, boiled into my chest. Before I knew it, before I could stop it, tears flooded my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. My breath was choppy, too fast. The room tilted off balance. Archer tightened his grip. The only solid element in my world.

“Let me go,” I hissed.

“No.” He lowered his head to my ear. “I won’t let you go, my
kotyenok
.”

I think I broke. I felt a snap inside me, like the crack of a tree branch, something that could never be put back together in the same way again.