Forbidden Heat (Firework Girls #1) (12 page)

The waiter brings the check. We both reach for it; he’s faster. But I know this game and I want it over sooner rather than later.

“How about I get this one?” I say, smiling.

I’m testing him. I’ll admit it.

Still holding the folder, he pulls out his wallet. “Yeah. I don’t think so.”

There’s always a first refusal. I press on. “It’s the least I can do, after all the cooking you’ve done for me.”

I reach for the folder but he pulls it out of my reach.

Going for broke, I give him that ostentatious smile of the rich that I hate so much. “I can afford it, you know.”

He slides his credit card out of his wallet and into the folder and, though still smiling, furrows his brow at me. “What’s that got to do with it? Look, if other people want to do things that way, that’s fine by me. But I’m an old fashioned guy. I’m paying.”

The waiter comes by and Shane quickly hands him the check, as if worried I’ll snatch it out of his hands.

“Besides,” he says. “I’m the one who invited you.”

My heart’s still pounding. I don’t know what to think.

He leans forward, taking my hand in his. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asks.

“Mind?”

“You don’t think it’s an insult if I pay?”

I let out a little laugh, examining him openly now. “You were worried I’d be insulted if you paid?”

“Well, I wasn’t until you started going after the check like that.”

I give him an uncertain smile. “I guess I’m old fashioned too, but... I thought you were trying to say you wanted me to pay.”

“Why would you think that?”

I blink at him. “Because of the whole feminist conversation.”

“Sweetheart, I was just talking about an article I read. Besides, I’m a philosophy professor. ‘What if’ discussions are practically part of the job description.”

He squeezes my hand gently and I can’t help but squeeze a little back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, observing my disconcerted expression. “I didn’t think it would upset you.”

“What if I’d invited you? Would you let me pay then?”

“Hell, no.” He smiles. “That doesn’t make me a chauvinistic brute, does it?”

“Of course not,” I say, smiling faintly.

I feel myself believing him, but there’s one last thing nagging at me. If I were smart, I wouldn’t ask him about it. I’d wait and watch for more opportunities to test him. I know how sneaky people can be. But instead, I come right out with it.

“But... what about the fact that this restaurant’s so pricey?” I ask.

He furrows his brow at me. “I can afford it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”

“No. I mean... when we were talking about where to go, you said this place was perfect because it’s pricey. Why did that matter?”

There’s a pause as he scrutinizes me, then he gets this dawning expression. “Wait. Did you think...”

He stops, still holding my hand, and rubs his forehead with the other.

He takes a deep breath and looks at me again, leaning closer and holding my eyes with his. “It mattered,” he says gently, “because I think we’re less likely to be seen together in a place most students can’t afford.”

Oh. Right. That does make sense.

“Most professors can’t afford it either, for that matter,” he continues. “I just thought it’d be an extra layer of protection. We’re an hour and a half from school, it’s the middle of the week, and, yeah, it’s pricey. If I’m going to be brazen enough to be out in public looking at you with big doey eyes, I think every little bit helps.”

I have to laugh at that. “I’m sorry,” I say, but he holds up a finger to indicate he’s not done.

“Listen, there’s... something I may as well tell you about me right now. I come from a family with a decent amount of money. Not like yours, I’m sure. Nothing near it. But we do alright. In fact...”

He looks down at our interlocked hands, frowning. He runs his thumb over the back of my hand, then shrugs. He looks back up at me. “They didn’t exactly approve of my choice of profession. They consider it a step down. You know, financially. So...” he takes a deep breath and smiles, clearly ready to lighten the mood. “If you’re worried about me trying to dip into the Maddox family fortune, don’t. I’ve been on the receiving end of that and I know how it feels. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

“No, I...” I don’t know what to say. I just feel so relieved.

The waiter comes back with the check and the card. Shane kisses my hand, gives me a wink, and proceeds to sign the ticket and tuck his card back into his wallet.

“Thank you for dinner,” I say.

He gets to his feet and holds out his hand, bringing me to a stand. “My pleasure,” he says and pulls me next to him.

Then right in front of anyone who cares to look, Shane Brooks cups his hand around my jaw, and kisses me.

After my big biochemistry project comes back with a low B, and Shane admits he’s fallen behind on his work as well, we resolve to do better.

A month later, we’ve settled into a semi-sustainable routine. I sneak over to his house almost every night and work on homework while he grades papers or works on his doctorate coursework. We’ve even allowed time back in for regular exercise, often driving to the trails and hiking on the weekends or swimming laps at the pool late at night.

That’s not to say we don’t still get distracted by each other. I keep thinking my hunger for him will wane, but it hasn’t. I quietly went on the pill and let him know when he could forgo the condoms. I’ve never had so much sex in my life, but yet I yearn for him when we’re apart and I drink deeply from the well when we’re together.

Occasionally I get behind enough that I have to stay home and get caught up there. He runs into trouble sometimes too. Lately I’ve been teasing him because I still don’t have a grade from him on a paper I turned in a week ago.

Everything would be perfect, really, if we didn’t have to keep it all in the dark.

Halfway through November, the girls come into my room as I’m getting ready to go to Shane’s. Chloe and Ashley sit on my bed, giving me serious looks. Sam leans in the doorway, folding her arms.

“What?” I ask with a smile, wondering what this is all about.

“Where are you going?” Chloe asks.

“Nowhere,” Sam and I say at the same time.

I glance at her. She’s not smiling. I look at the other two on my bed. “What is this, an intervention?” I ask, still trying to keep things light.

“We were just wondering if we’re
ever
going find out the reason why we don’t see you anymore,” Ashley says.

“Yeah, does this reason have a
name?”
Chloe asks.

“And a big cock?” Sam chimes in, though still with a serious expression. She’s clearly ready for an answer from me as well.

The smile slides off my face as I look from one best friend to the next. There’s no laughing this one off. And I’m tired of hiding from them. I really am. Sometimes I feel like I’m really falling for Shane, and my girls have no idea he even exists in my life. I want to tell them everything, but...

I look from face to face, fussing with the hem of my shirt.

“God, Isabella,” Sam says, coming all the way into the room. “Tell us already. What the hell’s going on with you?”

I close my eyes. “Okay...” I sigh. “There’s a guy.”

“I knew it,” Sam says, heading for the bed. I move toward the bed too, ready to talk. Chloe and Ashley scoot back so there’s room for all of us to gather on the bed together.

“Why haven’t you said anything about him?” Ashley asks.

“Okay, look. I’ll tell you everything, but... you can’t say anything to anyone.”

“Ugh,” Sam says, “I’m starting to get offended. When do we ever share your secrets?”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that... this is a big one.”

“Why?” Sam asks, “What are you, banging a professor or something?”

I look at her with a shocked expression, stunned that she nailed it. They all look at me while I struggle to find my voice.

Sam starts to laugh while Ashley and Chloe’s eyebrows raise into their hair.

“Is that it?” Chloe asks, looking mortified.

“You can’t tell,” I say.

“Let me guess,” Sam says gleefully, “the philosophy professor?”

I hide my face in my hands and Sam starts laughing all over again. “Oh honey, I have a whole new respect for you.”

I peek at her through my fingers in time to see Chloe shoot her a damning glance. “Pipe down, pipsqueak. Let her talk.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Sam pulls her legs into a cross-legged position and rests her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands.

“It’s Shane,” I confirm. “Professor Brooks, I mean. Yes. Shane.”

“How long has this been going on?” Chloe asks gently.

“About seven weeks.” Then the dam breaks and I tell them everything. I don’t get into all the intimate details, but I give them a pretty accurate picture of how everything went down. I even admit to seducing him in Sam’s white bikini.

Sam nods at this piece of information, clearly impressed.

When I finish telling them the rest, I nervously wait for their reactions.

“Well,” Sam says with a big breath. “I’m all for it.”

“You’re also a hopeless nut case,” Chloe says.

“Are you kidding? It’s not like he’s fifty or something. And do you even
remember
what that guy looks like?”

“Okay,” Chloe says, “but...” she turns to me and says gently, “where is this really going to go?”

As usual, Chloe hits on the one thing I’ve been trying not to ask myself.

“Why does it have to go anywhere?” Sam asks. “Why can’t she just have a little fun?”

Chloe gives me a questioning glance, wanting to know if that is, in fact, all I’m doing.

I shrug. “It’s only been a couple months. I don’t know that either of us are ready to think about anything other than what it is right now.” I give Sam a guilty sort of smile. “It
has
been fun.”

Sam grins.

That’s all this has to be right now anyway, right? No need to think too far into the future.

Right?

“What if you guys get caught?” Chloe presses.

“We’re being careful,” I say, even though I know we’ve gotten careless a couple times. Our latest make-out session at the school’s pool leaps to mind.

“Stuff like this has a way of getting out,” Ashley says.

I’m starting to get irritated. “Not as long as you guys keep your mouth shut.”

“Well
I’m
not going to say anything!”

“Good. Then we don’t have a problem.”

Chloe looks to Ashley helplessly.

“We’re not judging you,” Ashley says. “We’re just concerned.”

“I’m not concerned,” Sam says. “I’m jealous as hell.”

“You do what’s right for you,” Chloe says, more gently now. “We’re here for you and we’re not judging you. We’re really not.”

I soften. “I know.”

Chloe gives me a smile. “You
do
look happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

I smile. “I can’t get enough of him.”

“Yeah,” Ashley says, smiling now too. “We’ve noticed.”

We hear the front door open.

“Don’t tell Jack,” I say. “Please?”

“I agree,” Sam says. “We don’t need Jack going all ballistic big brother on the professor’s ass.”

The only good thing about being home for Thanksgiving break is I now have more time to study for the Biochemistry GRE, which I haven’t been doing as much as I should’ve been. The test is this Saturday too, so I have some serious catching up to do

The down side is, I’m having severe Shane withdrawals. And we’re texting so much it’s practically as time-consuming as being there with him.

The first night home, I can’t sleep. It’s nearly midnight when my phone dings.

Apollo:
You up?

Me:
Yes.

Apollo:
Can I call you? I need to hear your voice.

And that’s how it started, his nightly routine of verbally tucking me in. I truly do fall asleep easier after hearing his voice.

I take the week to finish up my graduate application and get started on my statement of purpose. On Saturday, before the test, he sends me a good luck text just in time:
Go get ‘em Tiger.

Two and a half grueling hours later, I leave the building not feeling nearly as confident about the test as I wish I did.

I turn my phone back on and it dings almost immediately.

Apollo:
How’d it go?

Me:
I’m afraid to know.

Apollo:
I’m sure you did great sweetheart.

I don’t answer for a while.

Me:
What if I didn’t?

Apollo:
This isn’t the only thing they look at. You’re submitting a solid admissions packet.

Me:
I suppose.
Ugh. Why haven’t I been studying more? Did I just fuck everything up for myself?

Apollo:
Try not to worry about it. You did the best you could. All you can do now is wait. When will you get your score?

Me:
3-4 weeks. Breathing.

Apollo:
I wish I could be there for you.

Me:
I wish you could too.

Apollo:
I’ll see you tomorrow night.

“Can’t come soon enough,” I say aloud
.