Soul Deep

His eyes seemed big enough to swim in. Rachel took an involuntary step toward him, wanting to feel his body heat, wanting to let the scent of his cologne and skin envelop her. To taste his . . . .

She jerked to a stop and darted an embarrassed glance around the room. All the other students had filed out. She and Professor Finbar—Dylan, she reminded herself—were alone. Wonderfully, fearfully, amazingly alone.

“There’s no one here, Rachel. Don’t worry, I’ve been very careful.”

One more step and she invaded his personal space, the deep gold of his eyes reeling her in. She dropped her gaze to his lips and pondered if they would be as firm as they looked. What they would taste like. A puff of warm air over her cheek warned her sheer seconds before his arms wrapped around her, pulled her against him and their mouths touched.

Fire.

Heat.

Unending need.

His fingers pressed on her back to align their bodies closer. He traced his tongue over the seam of her lips and she opened to an explosion of sensation. Dylan controlled her, consumed her, his mouth the center of her existence. He nudged a knee between her thighs, separating her legs to nestle intimately against her pulsing core and her body responded, wildfire sweeping over her. Blood rushed to swell the lips of her pussy, moisture painting her passage.

Rachel raised her hands to glide her fingers through his hair, returning his kiss eagerly. Mouth tender now, his tongue slid against hers before he drew back to drop kisses along the column of her throat, stopping to suckle softly for a moment at the juncture where her heartbeat pulsed its rapid rhythm.

As he caressed her, keeping their hips intimately close, Rachel slowly came back to herself. Slowly became aware she and her professor were making out in a lecture hall like a pair of randy teenagers. He cupped her breast, fingers squeezing her tender nipple. This couldn’t be right; she was sure of it. No matter how wonderful it felt. No matter how good his skin tasted under her tongue as she nibbled her way along his strong jaw, how right it felt to slide her fingers over his shoulders, the taut muscles rippling as he continued to lave her skin, suckling and kissing and caressing.

“Dylan, my God, what are we doing?”