Melting Into You (Due South Book 2) (17 page)

After he finished, he tossed the book on her desk. “Happy?”

“Why would I be happy?” She planted her hands on her hips, staring at the thin line of his mouth.

“Because it turns out I am as thick as a fucking plank. Congrats. You were right.” His gaze darted around, as if he might bolt at any moment.

She shifted a few steps to the side, blocking his exit. In the classroom, she was in control, and she hadn’t finished with him. Not by a long shot. “You’re pushy and bull-headed and a pain in the
culo
, but I’ve never once thought you were thick.”

He raked a hand through his hair, leaving strands bunching up chaotically. “Yeah, okay, I’m dyslexic. Up until I was about ten, I thought I was dumb. Sometimes for me, even now, thick and dyslexic
may as well be the same thing.”

Her heart broke wi
th his
just the way it is
tone.

Ben hooked the chair he’d kicked with his foot, sli
ding it under the desk again. His eyes lost the fire of temper. “I usually cope better with reading. Nerves make it worse.”

“I put you on the spot.” She hadn’t meant to shame him, yet she had. Now she felt about an inch tall. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re just concerned about Jade, doing your job—helping her on the way to becoming a vet.” He offered her a wry smile. “The girl’s got ambition.”

“In spades.”

She propped her hips against the front edge of her desk instead of returning to her chair. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

Ben rubbed a hand over his jaw, which, for once, he’d shaved clean of stubble. “A cop—like my dad. But after he died, Piper left to live with our aunt in Wellin
gton and applied to the police college there.”

“You didn’t apply too?”

“Someone needed to run Dad’s dive business. I’d been working with him from when I left school.”

“And you had your mother and Shaye to care for.”

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

“
Do you still want to be a cop?”

“Nah. That was hero-worship stuff and too many TV shows.”

“You never wanted to go to university?”

His mouth twisted as he shook his head. “To become a droid sitting at a desk all day? I’m not that type, and there’s not much call for white-collared workers in Oban.”

“A university education is never wasted, Ben.” She cringed inwardly as soon as the words slipped out. Once an educator, always an educator.

“Disappointed I don’t have a PhD,
Kez? I’m guessing I’m not your usual type.” He stepped forward, palms braced on the desk either side of her hips. “But you want me, and it pisses you off.”

Of all the insufferable, arrogant men
…She shifted her hips, stretching away from him. “This conversation has veered way off track. We were talking about Jade.”

Ben leaned in, his lips curling up in a feral smile. “You switched the subject from Jade to me.”

“Jade needs to be tested by a professional—”
Distance! Professionalism!
Pens clattered to the floor as her hands scrabbled backward across the desk.

“I’ll see to it. Now, about me not being your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

He was too close again. How could she concentrate on
distance
and
professionalism
with six-foot-two-inches of ripped, attitude-ridden male bearing down on her? Kezia closed her eyes. Much better. Only…not really.

“If you did have a type, would you choose slick and sophisticated?” A rough whisper by her ear, his breath warming her lobe. “Or a man who’ll take you hard against a wall until you scream his name?”

Her breath evaporated from the incendiary heat sweeping her from hair roots to toes.

Oh, dear Lord
…She chose the wall—the wall!

Bar dropping to her knees and slithering out under his arms—and since his hands had pinned her skirt, she’d end up with it around her waist—Kezia had no choice. She slid f
arther onto the desk.

“T
his is inappropriate. This is—”

“Making you wet. I can almost smell you.”

Her eyes slitted and her pelvic floor muscles clenched. “That’s crass.” And completely true, the
bastardo
.

Ben clicked his tongue. “I’m a crass kind of guy.”

Wriggling back, Kezia’s butt connected with the pile of student notebooks and sent them cascading off the edge.

Ben surged forward, nudging her knees apart and keeping them spread wide with his thighs. Her heart, currently working double-time, tripled its effort. Rough denim scraped her inner legs as her skirt—which she would never, ever be able to wear teaching again—slipped up to
her hips, exposing her panties.

“Oh,
Kezzy.”

The lust threaded through his low voice blasted her internal engines into the warning
zone of spontaneous combustion.

He stroked a palm down her bare thigh and slid her toward him until their lower bodies collided. Lace pan
ties to rough denim. Soft folds pressed to hard male.

So make it six-foot-two of ripped, attitude-ridden
sexually aroused
male.

His lips grazed the line of her jaw to the pulse thro
bbing in her throat. “I guess working-class stiffs don’t do it for you, huh? Or maybe they secretly do.” He sucked skin into his mouth, his tongue hot and wet. Her breath hitched in on a shudder. “One way to find out.”

He kissed her without hesitation. As if she was a
lready his, her hidden crevices and secrets surrendered to his erotic power over her. He kissed her as if they’d been lovers for years, sure and confident she’d respond to him easily.

And apparently she was easy—because her arms wound around his neck, and her leg hooked across his butt, keeping his erection tight against her core as she rubbed against him like a cat. And dear Lord, the wo
man moaning as he drew back so they could both catch their breath? That was her!

“Rhonda could come—” She started to find a reason to make him stop, and yet she didn’t push him away, not when his hips shifted up and down, the hard ridge
of him making her feel so good.

Just a little longer…

“The good-girl teacher caught slumming by the principal. Does it make you hot, Kezzy?”

No. Getting caught didn’t make her hot. He made her hot. Hot and wet and more desperate for release than she could ever remember. She jerked her face to the side so he wouldn’t see her unguarded desperation.

“Don’t hide from me.” Ben cupped her chin. “I’m teasing. Let me make you feel good.” His hand snaked between their bodies, his fingers brushing the lace trim covering her mound.

Her hips jerked, and she clutched his wrist to still his fingers. She couldn’t, could she?

“I’m dying here. I need to touch you, sweetheart.”

No, no, no.
But her traitorous mouth whispered his name. He kissed her again, deeper, fuller, and her hand dropped away.

Ben didn’t wait for a verbal invitation.

Firm fingers dipped under the lace, and he stroked a knuckle between her folds. The touch electrified every nerve ending and her hips jerked again. He eased her panties aside and slid one, then two fingers inside her and she had to bite her lip to prevent a cry from escaping. His thumb scraped over the small bundle of nerves at her core.

She bucked,
so he did it again. And again.

“Tight and so wet for me. God, I want to taste your sweetness.” Completely focused on her pleasure, he’d no idea the sound of his voice
almost made her climax.

Her head sagged back as flashes of bright color e
xploded behind her eyelids.

Ben took her mouth in a soul-wrenching kiss, while she arched into each gentle stroke. So go
od, he felt so amazingly good.

His fingers stilled, and she whimpered, thrusting her wetness into hi
s palm and grinding helplessly.

“Please.”

“Look at me. I want to see you come.”

He stroked the calloused pad of his thumb over her again, and her eyes flew open.

Their gazes locked. His fingers, thick, strong, amazing, moved within her. Mesmerized, she opened herself to him—no longer denying what she craved. Her fingernails dug into the heavy muscle spanning his shoulders.

“This one’s on me.” He bent lower and nipped her bottom lip, without breaking the firm rhythmic pre
ssure. “Next time it’ll be skin on skin, with me buried balls-deep inside you.”

So fast, so intense, and so, so wrong—but a whi
mpering cry wrenched between her teeth as the orgasm electrified and shattered her. She couldn’t stop shaking, even when Ben tugged her panties into place and gathered her close, stroking her hair, the ridge of his arousal burning into her stomach.

She cringed, even as she inhaled the salty-sweet smell of his neck. It’d been so long since a man touched her that she’d behaved like a
puttana
. Kezia shoved at his chest and scrambled upright. Teetering around to her chair, she bent and scooped an armful of notebooks off the floor, roiling with the confusion of feel-good-orgasm endorphins and bone-deep shame.

When she straightened and turned to him, he sat on the edge of her desk watching her with a crooked ey
ebrow. “You’re tidying up like nothing happened?”

“Nothing should’ve happened.” Her voice broke. “Oh, God. I don’t know what came over me. I just don’t do—I can’t, and I’ve left you again…” She waved a hand at his crotch, her face so hot it was a wonder her eyeballs hadn’t cooked to hard-boiled. “I’m sorry.”

Ben shut down—moment by moment, muscle by muscle, until the man who burned with desire for her just minutes ago, now resembled a freshly chiseled ice sculpture.

“Well. I guess I’d better go.” He stood, giving her a wide berth as he crossed the room. “I’ll have Jade tes
ted ASAP.”

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Kezia sank into her chair, gaze drawn to the scattered notebooks on the floor.

Maledizione
. Damn you, Ben Harland.

And damn her for aching for more of the man’s touch, even as she cursed his name.

Chapter 9

Ben Harland drea
med early one May morning.

Butt-naked and buried in Kezia’s tight, wet heat, he rode her hard, groaning as she writhed under his hands, panting his name. He
kinda knew he was dreaming. The dead giveaway being one, Kezia enthusiastically having sex on her classroom desk, and two, her periodic application of a riding crop to his ass to encourage him to pound faster.

He was good with that. Real good.

The feisty little vixen licked his ear, sniffed his neck, and ran her tongue along his jawline. He was about to describe what he wanted her to do to Kezia in detail when she barked.

That’s right, barked. As in, yip-yip-bloody-yip.

Ben opened his eyes to the furball sitting beside his arm smirking, and his daughter eyeing him suspiciously over the dog’s shoulder.

“Dad?” Jade crawled closer over the tangled duvet. “You were talking in your sleep.”

She giggled and the dog yipped again. Somebody poke his eardrums out with a rusty skewer.

Ben scrubbed his hands over his face. “Was I?”

“You must’ve liked Sparky licking you, ‘cause you called her ‘sweetheart,’ and said ‘oh, feels so gooood.’” Jade lowered her voice in a growly imitation of his.

She flung herself down next to him, squealing as the dog launched onto her belly.

“Right. Ah, why—?” Forced to sit up and move the dog off Jade so she could hear him, Ben held the wriggling, whining creature at arm’s length. “Why is the furball on my bed? Why aren’t you in your pajamas? And why are you up so damn early?”

Sparky sneezed, spraying his bare chest with dog snot.

Ben deposited the mutt on the floor instead of hurling her out the bedroom window. As was his first inclination.

When he turned back, Jade had adopted one of her Gran’s favorite looks—the
did you really just say that?
double-arched-eyebrow stare.

“Damn is a swear word. We’re not allowed to say damn at school.”

“Ms. Murphy’s rules?”

“Yep.” She crossed her fluffy sock-covered feet and laced her hands behind her neck. “We’re also not a
llowed to say hell, asshole, shit and—”

Ben clapped a palm over Jade’s mouth. “
Gonna stop you right there, kiddo.”

Her eyes sparkled, not a trace of fear in her gaze. Another ice crystal coating his heart melted. “How about I rephrase those questions without a swear word?”

The warmth of her breath puffed against his skin. Five bucks said she grinned like a maniac underneath his fingers.