Professor Love (8 page)

“
Fencing
?”

“Yeah.” She gestured towards the foil laying on the floor. Its tip was blunted by a small plastic knob, but the steel gleamed menacingly in the late day sun that stretched across the room.

Of course. He should have realized that weapons would play a large part in her leisure time. Max looked around the empty room. “With whom?”

“Myself.” When Max raised an eyebrow, Sophy explained, “I’m just practicing some moves. I’m trying to work out a scene. A scene with your... uh,
you
, by the way.” She tossed the huge glove on the floor beside the foil and wandered into the kitchen. Her hips were encased in tight black leggings and swayed enticingly in front of him, momentarily distracting him. “What were you talking about?”

Max shook his head lightly and tossed a copy of the student rag on the kitchen counter. Sophy’s eyes widened beneath the glass of water tipped to her mouth, and she choked as she took in the front page.

She set the glass down with a clunk and swiped her thumb over her chin. “What is
that
?”

“Journalism,” he said drily.

A small furrow appeared between her eyebrows as she picked up the paper. “Are you sure?”

“They found a picture online. Did you put it on Facebook or something?”

Her mouth fell open. “Cocks of the Camp—”

He snatched the paper back. “Yeah, I know. Did you give them the picture?”

She gulped down the rest of the water. Placing the empty glass in the sink, she shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

Max waved the tabloid at her.

“Okay, Tumblr. But hey, look at the bright side. It’s not a
bad
picture.” She grinned. “At least it got your good side.”

“
My good side
?” He dropped the paper on the counter again and dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, I have to tell you something.”

She cocked her head. “You’re upset, aren’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Mad?”

“Furious!”

“Okay, then.” She tipped the mask back over her face and walked into the living room. Pulling on her glove, she picked up a padded white jacket and a foil and handed them to him. “Feel free to take it out on me. I deserve it.”

Max stared at the sword in his hand. Was she nuts?

“No, not at all,” she replied. He groaned as he realized he had said it out loud. “You have some anger to get out of your system, and I need help with this scene. It would be great if I could see you in action.” Her voice was muffled by the mask, but her meaning was clear.

“That’s why I came over here—” he started.

“Just put on the jacket, Max.”

She was serious. For once, she was totally serious. She wanted him to come at her with a sword?

Max paused for a moment. The idea had merit. In fact, it was suddenly very appealing. “Don’t I get a mask and glove?” he finally asked.

She muttered something beneath the mask. He wasn’t sure, but it sounded a lot like “Wussy.”

“Alright,” she announced, pulling off her mask and setting it down on the couch. “I don’t have two of everything, so we’ll just keep the jackets and be really careful, okay?”

Max admired the sunlight flashing on the steel in his hand. He tossed the foil lightly and caught it, testing its weight.
Be careful?
He could take a stab at it, so to speak. He stripped off his blazer and tie and yanked open the top three buttons on his shirt. Picking up the jacket, he raised an eyebrow at Sophy. “How do I put this thing on?”

“Here.” She crouched by his feet and placed his foot inside an elastic loop. Then she dragged the canvas up his leg until the loop hugged the top of his thigh. A burst of heat shot through his body when her fingers tugged on the elastic at his groin, and she rose from her kneeling position, her face red.

She stepped back and turned away from him. While her head was in a closet, she mumbled, “Now just put your arms through the sleeves and buckle it up at the back.” He did as she instructed and she emerged from the closet with another foil in her hand.

Her gaze swept up and down his body, finally resting on his feet. She reached out with her foil and dug the tip into the bridge of his right foot.

“You’d better get rid of your shoes,” she advised.

He toed them off and reached down to peel off his socks. He tossed the foil experimentally between his hands.

“Ready?”

He nodded and brought the foil up to his face, then swiped it down and away in the traditional salute. “En garde.”

She raised her left arm behind her and lunged. She thrust at him faster than he could parry. She was good. Very good. It became clear to him that she had been doing this for a while.

Sophy grinned when he voiced his suspicions. “I was addicted to Zorro when I was a kid, and I started doing this in college. It’s great exercise,” she panted, and thrust again. This time he was ready for her.

The foils clinked as they met, and Sophy raised her eyebrows. “Have you done this before?” she asked him.

Frustration was a fast tutor. Max lunged at her and grinned as she blocked him.

Sophy bit her lip in concentration and grunted. “Look,” she bit out between thrusts and parries, “I’m sorry about the picture. You know the internet, I didn’t think anyone would see it.”

“Huh.” He was still angry, but it was fading a bit. His shirt was starting to stick to his back and he wished he had the time to scrape his hair off his sweaty forehead. “I don’t think this arrangement of ours is working anymore.”

“Why... do... you... say... that?” The words spurted from her mouth raggedly as she circled him and thrust again. “You’re a great hero.”

He spun around, blocking her illegal move successfully. So she was a cheater, eh? Well, he had a few moves of his own he could try. He went on a false attack, then drew back at the last minute to lunge deeply and swipe at her leg. His blade nicked her knee, but it wasn’t a legal touch. He had still gotten her, though, and her curse bounced off the walls.

Max smiled. “A great hero?”

She nodded and her eyes darted up and down his body. He realized she was looking for a weak spot, and he jumped back a few feet.

“All my readers will fall in love with you,” she told him.

He reached up to comb his fingers through his hair and his hand came away damp with sweat. Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath and went on the attack, thrusting large and deep.

“I don’t
want
all your readers to fall in love with me.”

“What about me?”

He nearly lost his balance in the lunge. “
What
?” Was she in love with him? God help them both if she was. Disappointment was his middle name.

Her face reddened and her foil met his with a sharp clang. “I need your help, Max,” she admitted softly.

“You promised that my reputation wouldn’t be harmed,” he warned.

“I haven’t touched your precious reputation! It’s not
my
fault that your picture ended up in the newspaper.”

Max lunged at her. His thigh was beginning to tremble, but he ignored it. “You put it online!”

“Everything is online! The chances of someone seeing it were a million to one!”

“Well, she beat the odds.” It was time he did the same thing. He lunged again.

She parried his thrust easily, shrugging beneath the heavy white jacket. “You want out?” She raised her foil to his again. “Fine. But what about your paper? Is it finished yet?”

He didn’t answer her, realizing it wasn’t going to be as easy to get out of this deal as he had originally thought. She wasn’t going to let him go, not without a fight.

“Tell me,” she panted. “Do you always try to seduce women you dislike? You know that’s an ‘alpha’ trait, don’t you?” She sounded petulant.

The momentary whiplash he felt from the sudden change of subject was quickly replaced by a perverse kind of relief to see she cared.

“Still upset about that, are you?” he asked. Maybe that meant he still had a chance with her. Not that he wanted one, of course.

“Not. At. All.” She punctuated her denial with forceful parries, refusing to back down.

“Regrets, Sophy?” No matter how misguided, he still thought she was a good person. Hell, maybe even a great one. But until she lost her idealistic belief in true love, he wasn’t prepared to give her more than what he offered her the other night.

Her eyes narrowed as she went on the attack again. “You wish.”

His breathing was getting heavier, and caught in his throat as he fended off her lunges. “Do I?” he muttered.

His sword arm shot out, his foil twisting around hers until they stood barely inches away from each other. The steel trembled in the bind as Max and Sophy breathed heavily.

Something shone in her eyes and he could feel her breath hot and wet on his lips.

He raised an eyebrow and tightened his fist around the sword. “Ready to give in?”

All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if he meant the fencing match or his attempted seduction of her.

Her breath hitched as she exhaled and she licked her lips. “Not by a long shot.” Her arm slipped downwards, disengaging her blade from the embrace. She jumped back and raised her arm in defense.

She cocked her head at him in acknowledgement. “You thrust well, Mr. Wright.”

“Dr. Wright,” corrected Max. Sophy nodded, rolling her eyes briefly. He grinned as she parried successfully again. “As do you. Do you
want
to make a fool out of me?”

She brought her foil to meet his. “There is nothing so tempting as a man who takes himself as seriously as you do. Let’s just say,” she added, swiping her arm down and to the right, “I enjoy poking holes in your armor.” With that pronouncement, she touched the blunted tip of her blade to his left hip. “Touché.”

His head jerked down as he felt the point against him, then back up again to take in her broad smile. “Bravo,” he said.

She straightened and stepped back, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the jacket. Bringing her foil in line with her nose and chin, she tilted her head at him and brought the blade down in a sweeping gesture to indicate the end of the bout.

Max’s fingers clenched around his foil until they ached. “One thing I’ve learned over the last few days, Sophy...”

She blinked at him expectantly and licked her lips again.

“Is that heroes always take the advantage,” he finished, and lunged at her.

The tip caught her square on the chest and the foil curved dramatically as he made the point. Her hazel eyes widened as she gazed down at the blade, then her right hand whipped up to wrap around it and push it away, catching him unawares.

Max lost his balance. Before he hit the floor, he reached out for a lifeline and wound up with Sophy, pulling her with him to the carpet. “Does this mean I win?”

She fell on top of him, breathing erratically, honey-colored curls framing her face. Her eyes closed a little when he grasped her hips.
Those damn leggings
.

“Not by a long shot,” she whispered.

W
hen Max’s
hands curved over her hip, Sophy knew she was in trouble. Big trouble.

They were right back where they were the other night but this time, she didn’t know if she could get up and walk away from him. Or even if she wanted to.

“
Sophy
.”

She looked him straight in the eye and was stunned by the heat she found there. Raising a hand to his face, she cupped his cheek with her palm, the tips of her fingers lightly stroking the delicate skin near his eyes. He was warm and smooth beneath her touch, and a muscle twitched near his temple.

She could see a private battle being fought behind his eyes, until he finally let go of her. His hands flopped to the floor at his sides and her body rose and fell with him as he sighed heavily.

“Sophy, get up,” he ordered flatly, turning his head to the side and staring at anything other than her.

She stilled. “What if I don’t want to?” she whispered. She meant for the words to be a joke. But they weren’t.

His head jerked back and he scrutinized her.

Sophy felt her face flood with embarrassment, but she didn’t take back the words. In fact, she repeated them.

His eyes darkened. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned her.

She slid her palm down his jaw and back to brush against the crisp dark hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe I’m cold.”

Max shook his head slightly, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips. “No, you’re not cold.” His knuckles trailed along her thighs and over her hips to rest on her ribcage. “Definitely not cold,” he asserted.

She shivered as the warmth of his hands penetrated the heavy canvas jacket she still wore.

Could she succumb to passion just once?
Just passion, just once?
She sighed, faintly aware of Max’s hands busy behind her back, unbuckling the jacket. His fingers trembled against her and he swore under his breath as he tried to free her from the confining garment.

Maybe Mom’s right and I should go for it
, she thought.
But what about all my principles? My ideals? My... Oh hell, how am I supposed to think clearly when his hands are on me?

Max slipped the jacket away from her and a tremor went up her spine. Her t-shirt stuck to her and goosebumps broke out in the small of her back as cool air sluiced over her damp skin.

Breathing suddenly became a deliberate effort, as did thinking. She knew she only had the stamina for one or the other, so she picked breathing.

“Do you want me to stop?” he murmured, his hands slinking under her shirt to stroke the curve of her breasts through her bra. Her nipples puckered and tightened exquisitely from the sensation of his hot hands on her chilled flesh.

“No.” Sophy groaned. “Yes!
Noooooo
.”

His hands clenched into fists at her side and his body stiffened underneath her. His
entire
body. “Which is it?”

She smiled at the seriousness in his gaze. She knew he would stop if she asked him to, but she had less faith in her own restraint. Her smile wobbled as insecurity rose in her throat. “This is passion, right?”

He nodded. “According to all the literature.” His hands rose to caress her cleavage and the swell of her breasts through her shirt.

“Of course, you’ve probably researched this, haven’t you?” she said sardonically. She was starting to wonder exactly how much Max Wright knew about passion. They hadn’t exactly traded magic numbers yet.

He raised an eyebrow. “Not as extensively as some... uh, scientists, but I think I have a firm grasp of the basics.” Grinning, he scraped his thumb across her nipple and Sophy gasped as the warmth pooled in her belly.

“Uh huh,” she said weakly.

“I do have a keen interest in the physiological process,” he added. His hands rose and slid up her arms to gently squeeze her shoulders.

“I’m sure.” The tingling in her limbs extended to her fingers and toes and she wriggled restlessly. His hands shot down to press against her hips, stilling her. Warning her silently. Her heart jumped in her throat as she realized the power she had over him. It was a heady feeling, a little like the thrill she got when she saw her first book published. Only the quivering in her body was a little lower down now.

“Research of this kind is very tricky, you know,” he continued lazily. “You must keep track of your progress carefully, noting each step and the results.”

Sophy swallowed tightly.

“For example,” he drawled, “If I do this—” He slid a finger under the elastic waistband of her leggings and drew an invisible line over the dent in her hip. “—You close your eyes,” he concluded. “A simple cause and effect relationship.”

Sophy’s eyes snapped open again and narrowed as his hand crept down between them to her belly.

“Do you really want to find out what I’ll do if you venture in that direction, Max?”

“In the interests of science, sure. When researching, you must develop your own methods, sometimes experimenting with materials you know no one else has explored.” His eyes narrowed at her. “Has anyone else, uh, experimented with these materials?”

She blushed and wondered whether or not she should tell the truth. She felt like a prehistoric specimen, a twenty-something virgin. “No. You could say it’s a... new frontier in science.”

He smiled gently and reached up to cradle her jaw in his hands. “What have you been waiting for?”

“Mr. Right.”

His eyebrow raised and his mouth twitched. “Dr. Wright,” he corrected.

Her arms curled around his neck. “What about a control group?”

“Consider this a double-blind experiment,” he murmured.

And then he kissed her.

Finally
, she thought.

His mouth moved over hers hungrily, bruising her lips and blowing all her inhibitions to dust. He wanted her, and she knew it. There was no fencing about now, no more ‘research’ in this area. His objective was clear, even if his method was still a little fuzzy.

Sophy wondered if maybe he had the right idea about this. Maybe if she thought of this as strictly research for her book, she wouldn’t feel guilty about forgoing her romantic ideals for one night. She was a writer, right? As often as she heard the advice, “write what you know,” she was also very aware that it was entirely possible to make stuff up.

She didn’t have to be in love with him to
make
love to him. It was just research, that’s all.

She told herself to take mental notes, and then as his hand cupped her breast again, her brain shut down like a government office on Christmas Eve.

The sensations flooding her body both frightened and excited her, and she wondered if this was what she was supposed to be writing about. Nobody had told her it could be like this—intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly, utterly addictive.

Max swiftly rolled her over until she was on the floor underneath him. A dark lock of hair flopped over his forehead as he hovered over her. He lifted her suddenly boneless arms and yanked her shirt over her head. She was temporarily blindfolded, still trying to get the t-shirt off when she felt his tongue trail across her collarbone and down into the vee of her cleavage.

Maxmara’s mouth branded her like the fires of a thousand holocausts, his teeth nipping at her skin. Clarissa was powerless under his ministrations—no wait—Clarissa was powerless under his heated touch, and her heart sang with an unfamiliar joy.

Sophy shook the fragment of prose from her mind and her hands fell to the floor with a small thud, the shirt still wrapped around her head. She knew she should take it off, but she didn’t know if she could move. A groan escaped her lips as he dragged a finger under the lacy material of her bra and found her distended nipple.

Okay, she could move.

Her head popped out of the t-shirt just as she heard the snap of her bra being undone and she shrugged it off her shoulders. Max sighed against her skin and tossed the scrap of lace away.

“You’re so beautiful.”

She smiled.
This must be how Clarissa felt
. Max devoured her skin in small nibbles and hot sweeping motions until she trembled uncontrollably under his touch. “Tell me you want me,” she gasped.

“I want you.”

What would her hero say
? “Tell me you can’t stop wanting me, not if all the hounds of hell were on you.”

He paused and his gaze swept up her body to meet hers with undisguised curiosity. “What?”

She closed her eyes. “The hounds of hell,” she repeated breathlessly.

Max turned his attention back to her breasts, finally taking a nipple into his mouth. “I cad sto waning you, eben if aw de houm—”

Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Forget it.” She inhaled sharply as he flicked her nipple with the tip of his tongue. “And don’t talk with your mouth full,” she ordered.

“Yef, ma’am.”

His hands spanned her waist, then wandered underneath the waistband of her leggings as he continued his assault on her swollen and tender breasts, until she stirred impatiently underneath him.

“
More
,” she implored.

A flush rose on his cheeks and his eyes burned brightly at her as he released her nipple. “More?”

She nodded, gulping air into her throat as his fingers circled her ankles and swept up her calves, lingering on the tender skin behind her knee. It wasn’t until he gently kneaded her thighs that she realized she was almost hyperventilating. His hands lifted from her legs to cover her breasts, trapping her thumping heart inside her chest.

“Relax, Sophy.”

She nodded, her eyes fluttering shut. “I’m just...”

“Excited?”

“Mmmm.” Excited and aroused and completely brain dead. Her body had taken over, and it was a terrifying prospect. What if it didn’t do what she wanted it to?

“It will,” he assured her, and she realized that she had whispered the thought out loud. She could hear the dark laughter in his voice as he continued, “And even if it doesn’t, it will do what
I
want it to
. I’ll take care of you, Sophy. I promise.”

Her eyes flew open again and took in the sensual twist of his mouth and the glitter in his eyes. In her mind’s eye, she saw him as Maxmara, all sleek muscles and threatening sarcasm. Sophy swallowed tightly, wondering if Clarissa would succumb so easily to the earl as she feared she would to Max.

He sat back on his heels, surveying her with narrowed eyes.

Raising an eyebrow, she reminded him, “I’m not a lab rat, Max.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he replied. “You have a great tail.”

Her cheeks burned and she reached up to pull him closer. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she admonished.

Max nodded and reached behind him to yank at the back of the heavy white canvas jacket. A vein stood out in his temple as he struggled with the buckle and perspiration dotted his forehead. “I’ve almost got it. Just a little...more...”

Sophy propped herself up on her elbows and wondered if she should help him with his pants. She was great at undoing buttons.

“Damn it!”

She sat up straight. “What is it?”

“The sleeves are caught.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, his arms twisted behind him.

Sophy frowned, idly wondering if her hero would have such a problem with his skintight Regency clothing. “You look like you’re wearing a straightjacket.” She scooted towards him. “Turn around,” she ordered.

His cuffs were caught on the buckle, and she picked it apart carefully. It was an expensive jacket, and she didn’t want to damage it. “Okay, all done,” she announced.

“Thank god!” he cried, and flailed his arms in sweet freedom.

His left elbow connected with Sophy’s nose and she shrieked in a burst of pain as she was knocked backwards. Somehow, she had the feeling that Clarissa didn’t have to put up with anything like this.

Max gasped. “Oh my god, are you okay?” He took her chin in his hand and turned it to the side.

Her eyes smarted with tears, blurring her vision. “Nice shot,” she muttered, and tried to smile.

“Well, I guess that killed the mood.”

Her body was still throbbing. “Not at all,” she murmured. “Just a small scientific setback.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The concern in his eyes battled with a familiar gleam of dark arousal, and he stroked her face gently. His touch made her tremble, and her body ached for him. Except her nose, which just ached.

“I’ll live, but not for much longer if you don’t touch me. Now, where were we?” She dragged the jacket off his shoulders and made quick work of the buttons of his shirt.

“Are you
sure
you’re okay?” he asked, concern in his wide blue eyes.

“Promise,” she assured him, and slid her hands up his bare chest. His chest hair rasped against the palms of her hands and she could feel his heart beating beneath her fingertips.

He groaned and pushed her back onto the floor, burying his face into her neck.

She shook her head slightly and frowned as black spots danced behind her eyes. Maybe she had gotten knocked harder than she thought. Or maybe it was just passion. She had read a love scene once where the heroine saw a kaleidoscope of colors, but she thought it had just been poetic license. Who knew?

Max hovered over her, muscles bulging in his arms from the superlative effort of his restraint. Would the earl be so restrained, or would he grab Clarissa and devour her until she begged to be taken?

She felt the heat radiate from his body, and shivered. “More,” she pleaded.

He braced himself with his elbows, his hands hard as they cradled her head and his eyes gleaming softly. Her legs wrapped around his hips and they rocked together slowly.

When she moaned Max spun them swiftly and smoothly so that she was riding him.

Her fingers splayed out on his hard chest and her eyes snapped open again. “
Max
!” She breathed heavily and light danced behind her eyes again. She licked her lips and tasted blood.
Blood
?

“Uh, Max?”

He grunted, his hands clasping her hips as he rocked her back and forth on top of him.

“I think—
ohhh
—I think you may have hit me harder than I thought,” she said.