“Know what I mean?” she asked. Gideon gently, but firmly, removed her hand.
“I think it would better if you met with the group, Amanda. Like I said, I have other plans.” Although he kept his attention on her, the student turned, glancing over her shoulder at Camille, before turning back to Gideon.
The smile on her face was noticeably cooler.
“I see. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then, Dr. Taber,” she replied stiffly. Gideon didn’t bother to repeat the invitation to call him by his first name.
No sooner had the door closed behind her than he was striding toward Cami, not in the mood to wait for her to come to him.
The easygoing, funny, sexy man Camille had met less than a week ago in no way resembled the one quickly approaching her.
The one striding toward her, his long steps eating up the distance, looked pissed off—sexy as hell, but still, really, really pissed off.
A shiver ran through her body.
She sucked in a calm, steadying breath. Okay, okay…she could handle this. She could handle him.
Besides, it had only been one night. Yes, it had been the best sex she’d had in a month of Sundays, but it hadn’t been meant to be more than that. It had been a release, one night of pleasure between two strangers who’d never see each other again. Something to temporarily fill the void and growing loneliness she’d been feeling for longer than she wanted to admit.
But she didn’t regret what she’d done and neither was she going to cower away. Nope. She was a grown, independent woman.
And the fact that fate had decided to throw them together again? Well, they were both mature adults. They could handle the situation. All they had to do was—
Right in the middle of her mental ramblings, Gideon grabbed her. Wrapping one, big arm around her waist, he unceremoniously pulled her tight against his body until her feet dangled from the floor.
With a whimper, Camille allowed the strap of her bag to slip from her shoulders and leaned into his embrace.
One hand cupped the globe of one of her round butt cheeks before impatiently tugging her shirt from the waistband of her skirt.
As his fingers sunk into the soft, fleshy skin of her waist, he wrapped the other around her head, his fingers stroking down the length until he reached the ends of her hair and wrapped them around his hand, fisting them.
He tugged on the strands, forcing her to meet his gaze. The anger in his eyes made her heart stutter against her chest, the desire made her nipples tighten into achy little nubs.
She stroked her tongue over her lips, her eyes riveted to his, her mouth grown dry. He leaned down and without saying a word, stroked his tongue over the seam of her lips.
“Open for me.” He breathed the words against her mouth.
With a will of their own her arms ran up his chest, her fingers caressing the corded muscles before wrapping around his neck.
Completely unexpectedly and so fast her head spun, the kiss changed, morphed into something so intense her body instantly went up in flames.
He didn’t just kiss her. He consumed her.
Licking the seam of her lips with the edge of his tongue, he pushed past her token resistance, stroked deep inside her mouth, and devoured her.
And heaven help her, she wanted him to.
She pressed into him, her breasts brushing against his hard chest, her nipples now rock hard, her body clenched, folding in on itself as he delivered hot, hungry, open-mouthed decadent kisses.
Camille whimpered against the sensual assault deep in the back of her throat, a wordless plea for him to touch her.
When she arched her back, pressing herself closer to his hot, hard strength, he released her hair and cupped her breasts in both hands, molding them in his big hands before shoving his hands beneath her blouse.
Camille moaned, her body on fire, pressing closer, desperate for his touch.
He released her mouth, his lips trailing around to nip the lobe of her ear, before licking down the length of her neck. His tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat, his other hand went to the base of her throat, to lightly circle it.
It wasn’t enough. Her head rolled to the side, to give him better access…she needed more, more of what he’d given her a week ago; images of their bodies wrapped around each other slammed into her mind, making her dizzy with desire and need.
When he mouthed her breasts, tugging her nipple through the silk of her blouse, she nearly came.
With a harsh grunt he broke contact, pushing her away from him, his breathing labored.
“What’s your full name?” he demanded. His voice was a rough, scratchy rumble, his gaze sliding over her face.
Camille could barely think straight after his sensual assault, much less remember her own name. Her body was on fire and aching, the essence of her own arousal pooling in the seat of her panties while her mind screamed at her that this was crazy—the two warring for dominance in her sanity.
“Um, my name—Camille. My name is Camille Jackson,” she finally replied, in a breathy murmur.
He nipped at the corner of her mouth, the sensation startling as much as it was instantly arousing. Camille involuntarily squeezed her legs together and dragged her eyes up to meet his hot, steady, regard.
“Don’t be late for class tomorrow, Camille.”
And just like that, with the same suddenness of his kiss, he turned, his back stiff, and left the room. Dazed from their kiss, and confused about what had just happened, her body slumped back against the desk.
On the heels of that thought came another—what would he do to her if she were late again…
An unexpected curl of carnal anticipation swept through her at the thought.
Chapter 5
When Camille awakened the next morning, she set up her laptop and worked on a report, determined she wouldn’t think of Gideon and just as determined not to spend the day wondering what would happen later that night when she saw him in class.
Finally giving up on both, she spent the rest of the day checking out the real estate section of the newspaper. Thinking of her upcoming move to Houston and the hundreds of things she still had to do to get ready for the big move managed to keep thoughts of Gideon at bay. Mostly.
Dragging her mind back to the here and now, Camille glanced at the clock she’d made sure was plugged in last night.
Now she had less than an hour to get her act together and make it to class on time, and she had no intention of even being a minute late. She suppressed her body’s reaction as she remembered the look in Gideon’s eyes.
She wasn’t about to test him to see if he’d make good on the threat in his eyes if she were late again. Camille ignored the irritating little voice in the back of her mind mocking her for the bald-faced lie. She went into the bathroom for a quick shower to clear her mind, but her thoughts drifted back to Gideon.
After the devastation on her senses the evening before, Camille had stayed rooted to the spot long after Gideon had left, her mind and body a chaotic mass of whirling nerves, before she’d finally gotten the strength to leave the classroom and make it back to her hotel room.
Even as he’d kissed her, she’d felt his anger. It had radiated off his broad frame in scalding waves while he’d held and kissed her, making love to her mouth and breasts.
Deep inside she’d known the reason for his anger.
Everything they’d done was etched in her mind. In vivid, erotic detail, she’d remembered every touch, every caress. The way he’d paid attention to her body each time they’d made love throughout their night together…the way he’d brought her to climax so many times she’d lost count.
After she’d woken early the next morning after that night, she’d eased out of bed, careful not to waken him. She hadn’t known what to say to him. She’d felt raw, exposed. And afraid.
Afraid of the feelings he’d ignited after only one night. How special he’d make her feel. Afraid to see his withdrawal, or worse, pity in his eyes when
he told her it had only been a one-time thing for him, nothing more, nothing less.
Camille sighed, turned off the shower and looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, wrinkling her nose. She ran her tongue over her lips, turning her face one way and then the other, critically examining her image.
She knew she was reasonably attractive. Her face was clear and blemish-free, and she’d always considered her eyes her best features: large and slightly tilted in the corner, they were dark, nearly black, and her lashes were so dark and thick she rarely needed mascara to enhance them.
She glanced at her breasts in the mirror. Fresh from the shower, her skin was slick from the oils she’d rubbed into her skin.
Thoughts of Gideon filtered into her mind, the way he’d kissed her, held her…the way he’d taken her from zero to one hundred miles per hour in two-point-two seconds.
Carefully she ran one hand over a breast, her fingers flickering over her nipple until it spiked. Biting her lip, she palmed her breast firmly, just as he’d done when they’d made love, allowing her finger to continue to glide over the tightening nub, imagining it was his hand cupping her, his finger pinching and releasing her nipple.
Her other hand trailed down her body, stopping at the juncture of her thighs, and hesitated.
She cupped her mound, now warm, felt the sticky moisture dampen her hands, and allowed her eyes to close as she slipped a finger inside. It wasn’t her hands fingering her plump clit and toying with her breast, it was his….
Her eyes flew open and she pulled her hands away from her body, feeling oddly ashamed at what she was about to do.
Not because she had any problem with self-pleasure, but because it was Gideon’s face and hands she had been picturing as she touched herself. Wanting it to be his hands instead of hers.
Angrily she snatched out the pins she’d just placed in her hair and allowed it to tumble back to her shoulders.
Rolling her eyes at her reflection, she went to the closet where she removed her dress from the hanger and slid it over her head and down her body. With a final look in the mirror, she left the room.
“This will be the first time in a long time that the entire family will be together. Which is why I want to make sure you’re going to be here, Gideon. It won’t be the same without you.” There was a short pause, and Gideon barely checked his irritation.
“You will be here, won’t you, Gideon?” The warning implied in her voice told him what he’d have to face if he wasn’t.
Gideon’s thoughts had been preoccupied with Camille Jackson while talking to his mother. His patience had been wearing thin in direct relationship to his desire to get back to the hotel he knew Camille was staying at and force her to see him.
But he was stuck. Thinking he’d brush his mother off, he’d tried to hang up the phone and opened the door to his office to her smiling face instead.
She’d caught him. With a sigh of resignation, he motioned her inside his office and sat down, knowing the conversation wouldn’t end any time soon.
After he’d missed the dinner his mother had hosted for the Jewish high holidays—Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur—Rebekkah Taber had been in a bad mood.
After his grandmother had passed away, his mother was the self-proclaimed matriarch of the Taber clan, and she took her duties seriously.
When Gideon hadn’t shown up for the dinner she’d given for their large extended family, she’d first sent his sisters out to guilt-trip him into coming home. When that hadn’t worked, she’d then sent his father. When no one had managed to coerce Gideon into celebrating the holidays at home with the family, she’d been forced to bring her prodigal son in herself.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with his family, but because the new contract with Silverman had been so important, Gideon had decided to teach the workshop himself. But lucrative contracts didn’t mean anything to his mother. She just wanted him home for the holidays.
Although Gideon didn’t attend temple on a regular basis, he always tried his best to get home for the holy days. He knew his mother well. She wouldn’t stop.
With a defeated sigh he’d given in, promising her he’d attend and, with a kiss on her forehead, ushered her out to her car.
By the time she’d left, it had been too late for him to go by the hotel, and he’d gone home instead.
After throwing his keys and wallet on the bar in the kitchen, he went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of Dos Equis and flopped down on the sofa. Lifting the remote control from the chair, he absentmindedly flipped through the channels, his mind on Camille as it had been for the entire day. Hell, since the moment he’d met her she’d seemed to take up permanent residence there.
One of his instructors had been unable to teach the workshop, and he’d been the only one who knew the material well enough to pitch hit for him. The class was taught in a facility on the north side of town and by the time he’d made it back to the office, it was close to midnight.
Instead of seeking her out, he’d headed home to his loft, an old firehouse he’d bought two years ago and had painstakingly renovated, using every spare moment he had. With pride, he’d done most of the work himself and lately found more satisfaction in his DIY labor than he did on the social scene.
But not tonight.
Tonight, as he had every night for more than a week now, his mind inevitably went to Camille Jackson.
Restlessly he stood, beer in hand, and wandered over to his briefcase that he’d tossed on the counter. Maybe doing some work would get his mind off the beautiful, curvy little manager, he thought irritably.
After twenty minutes of staring at the lesson plan for the next day, he gave up and tossed the papers aside. He rummaged through his briefcase until he found her bio. The corner was dog-eared from the number of times he’d read and reread it after realizing who she was.
Taking his beer, he walked back to the sofa and sat, perusing the bio.
Not that he didn’t already know it by heart.
She was twenty-eight years old, had graduated from college in three years and had immediately enrolled in graduate school. In college and graduate school, she’d interned at Silverman’s department store, and in graduate school had begun their management program. Before completing her master’s degree, she’d already been promoted to floor manager.
He scanned the rest, rereading how she’d quickly risen in management and now was one of the youngest junior executives in the company with her latest promotion.
Taking a swig of beer, his brow furrowed, he read between the lines. Unlike most of the other students’ biographies, Camille’s didn’t list any interests outside of work, and neither did her bio have a picture attached.
All work and no play.
She was dedicated, spent long hours at work and, if his hunch was right, didn’t have a man in her life. Until now.
Gideon glanced at the time. Resigning himself to the inevitable, determined to settle what was between them once and for all, he grabbed his keys, heading toward the Hilton.
Chapter 6
Camille had not only been on time, she had arrived ten minutes early. Her smug satisfaction was cut short when a female entered the classroom and informed the class she was substituting for Dr. Taber.
When one of the others asked if he’d be returning, the relief she felt was as immediate as it was unwelcome, when the woman assured them he would, that a personal obligation prevented him from teaching tonight.
Camille wondered what the personal obligation was, but relegated it, as well as thoughts of Gideon, to the back of her mind, forcing herself to pay attention.
After class she began to gather her things, preparing to go, and overheard some of the students making plans to go to the bar in the hotel where most of the out-of-town students, including herself, were staying.
Preparing to leave, she paused when she felt a hesitant tap on the back of her shoulder.
“Hi…you’re Camille, right?”
Camil
le turned as a voice spoke directly behind her, startling her as her thoughts had been preoccupied with Gideon.
She’d noticed him—Carl—last night after class. She’d caught him several times eyeing her throughout the night and again tonight. Each time she’d looked up he was staring a hole right through her.
When she’d caught him staring, she’d smiled slightly, and he would duck his head shyly. She gave him the once over.
Like Gideon, he was tall, but where Gideon was athletically built, his physique similar to a runner’s, Carl was solid, with the body any defensive linebacker in the NFL would envy.
“Yes, it’s Camille. And you’re Carl?”
“Yes, Carl. You know my name,” he said, grinning ear-to-ear, his glance casually raking over Camille. Unusually high, his voice had a nasal quality that was completely at odds with his large frame.
He extended a hand, and when she placed it in his, he held it a fraction longer than necessary. Casually, Camille withdrew her hand, subtly wiping the moisture she’d gotten from his away, running her hands down the sides of her skirt.
He was good-looking in a cuddly bear kind of way. His dark brown eyes were wide and direct, and he had a set of deep-set dimples that would flash every time he spoke. Despite the oddly high-pitched voice, he was probably the type of guy who picked up women with the ease that other men used to change their shorts, Camille thought.
What she found disconcerting about him, more than anything, was that he seemed too…eager.
“Some of us are headed to the bar in the hotel we’re staying to have a few drinks. They all are from the study group…wanna come?” he asked casually. His piercing gaze made Camille feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.
“I think I’ll pass tonight, but thanks. I’ve got a lot of work to do…”
“Oh, come on, we won’t stay long, it’ll be fun! We can all get to know each other better,” he pleaded, and despite the fact she suspected his intentions had nothing to do with forming a study group, thoughts of Gideon brought a halt to her automatic refusal.