“Fair enough.”
“We’ve all been where you guys are now. We get it. But trust me, if you think this is brutal, wait until a judge chews your ass out in front of opposing counsel. Or you fuck up a brief you’re preparing for a senior partner. There’s an element of hazing here, but it’s necessary. This profession can be soul-crushing.”
“And yet, you love it, don’t you?”
He grinned. “I do.”
There was a passion that shone through his eyes that he didn’t share in class. I was pretty sure if he did, the girls would be whipped into a frenzy. Graydon Canter passionate about something was sexy as hell.
If he ever gave that to a woman, she’d be the luckiest woman in the world.
“You should be like this in class. I understand if you have to keep your intimidating persona to hold on to your professor street rep”—his lips twitched—“but it would be cool if you shared your experiences practicing law with the class. Just now you talked about the law like it was a living, breathing entity, something you loved. You should do that in class.
“I know we’re supposed to be constantly on our guard and ready to be ripped to shreds”—he let out a shout of laughter—“but it would be nice to see the light at the end of the tunnel. There’s not a whole lot of inspiration to be found briefing cases. It would help to see that we have something to look forward to. That we have a chance to make a difference.”
He put the car in park and turned to face me, slipping his sunglasses off, a small smile playing at his mouth. “You’re probably right. One of my favorite professors in law school had clerked for a prominent federal judge and he loved to share war stories. It definitely made class more entertaining.”
“So you’re going to be less intimidating?” I teased.
His smile deepened. God, that smile. I’d been pathetically attracted to him before, but this side of him was just too much. I wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was intense in class, more relaxed when it was just the two of us.
That was the weird thing about this. Officially, he was my professor, and yet he didn’t act like my professor. And he wasn’t even that much older than me. It was hard to feel like we weren’t equals despite our status at school. Then again, it was hard to know where I stood with Gray.
Especially, after we’d kissed. Especially, when he looked at me the way he did now.
The car felt too small, the air around us oppressive.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “You don’t really find me intimidating, do you?”
Yes and no.
I met him halfway. “Sometimes.”
“Now?”
God.
I swallowed, my voice strained. “No.”
Something shifted in Gray’s gaze. Something dark and hungry.
“At your parents’ party?”
The rest, when you kissed me, lingered between us unspoken.
God.
My voice shook, but I said the word anyway.
“No.”
He leaned forward over the armrest, his hands inches from mine. He hovered there. He smelled like winter, which was utterly ridiculous and the absolute truth at the same time.
His hand left the console and I froze. A beat passed, and another one, and then his hand brushed through my hair, his fingertips stroking my scalp. My head rolled back, my neck arching, giving myself over to the feel of his fingers caressing me. It was the lightest touch, but it set off a spark within my body that had a shiver sliding down my spine. My eyes shut, my lips parting, wanting more.
“Blair.”
I loved his voice; there was nothing better than hearing my name spill from his lips.
His free hand came up to my face, the pad of his thumb tracing my cheekbone. Once, twice.
My eyes opened and our gazes locked. His thumb swept across my cheek, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I had no idea where my head was, didn’t even care.
Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
Gray released his hold on my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I sucked in a deep breath as his fingers grazed my skin, lingering on my earlobe. He paused, flicking the skin back and forth with his fingers, tearing another shudder from me, pausing as if he knew my breasts were begging for his mouth and his hands, that I was drenched, desperate to feel him inside me. His eyes flared, two dark pools that held me in place under the force of his gaze. He released my lobe, his fingertips moving down, tracing my jaw with a casual gentleness that sent another tremor through my body and had me arching instinctively toward him.
And then it was gone.
The ache inside me made me bold, whereas before I might have shied away.
My hand reached out, coming to rest next to his on the armrest. Inches separated us. We both looked down at the spot where we nearly touched, silence throbbing around us, and then some part of me I didn’t even know existed took over as my fingers reached out and linked with his.
His whole body stiffened, his gaze jerking to meet mine.
He didn’t let go.
“I’m trying to be good,” he whispered. “So fucking hard.”
Chapter Eight
With just a couple weeks until the election, all eyes are on the Reynolds family. Will Senator Reynolds keep his seat or is another scandal poised to take him down?
—Capital Confessions blog
Blair
His voice broke the spell in the car, pulling me back to reality, reminding me that this was the man who tormented me weekly, the man who’d basically admitted he was a disaster. This was not me. This was touching the stove and then acting surprised when I got burned.
I tried to jerk my hand back, wishing I could jump over to the other side of the line, but Gray held me in place, his fingers gripping mine. He didn’t hold me like he was trying to keep me there; he held me like I was a life preserver he needed to keep from drowning. I knew because I held him the same way.
You are in so much trouble.
“Why?”
I asked the question because I had to know, needed him to give me the rest of the pieces of the puzzle. Needed him to explain why he kissed me back and then fled.
“Because I want you. I’ve wanted you since the beginning. Since you walked into my class that day.”
The revelation that he’d wanted me since the beginning, that I wasn’t crazy or alone in feeling this way, lit me up inside, even as it terrified me. I wanted the rest of it; some part of me demanded it.
“Why?”
“Because I ruin everything I touch. Every time.”
I didn’t know how bad his baggage was, but if he thought I’d lived some charmed, easy life, he was off the mark.
“And you think what, exactly? That you’re protecting me from the Big Bad Wolf?”
His jaw clenched.
No fucking way.
“I take it you don’t read the gossip columns?”
He made a face. “Yeah, right before I get my fucking nails done.”
“Cute.”
He shrugged.
“I was engaged.”
That got a reaction.
“You were engaged.”
“I was.”
“What happened?”
“It didn’t work out.”
“Why?”
I shook my head, not quite ready to spill all of my secrets. “You first.”
A look of surprise crossed his face and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Are you negotiating with me now?”
I nodded. “I read your bio.” It was a small concession to make when I was curious for more, and after my mouth had basically assaulted his, I couldn’t be bothered to care.
“How did you go from a successful private practice in Chicago to teaching at Hannover?”
His mouth tightened, and suddenly, seven years between us seemed like so much more. He looked hard and jaded, and I knew my question had pissed him off.