But because nothing in Gemma's whirl-wind life can ever go seamlessly, she soon runs into the man that she'd left naked and in bed just the evening before...in the most unexpected of places. The classroom. As her Professor.
...if only the surprises stopped there.
Excerpt:
As I stood there, hands in pockets and my eyes on the ground, looking at
the little pieces of broken beer bottle glass that seemed to reflect the
moonlight in a way that maybe Ben could write about, I heard the door open. I heard
my name, although it seemed far away, and too soft to really grasp against the
sound of the whipping air. But when his fingertips brushed against my chin, and
I tilted my head (because he was tall, so ridiculously tall) up to meet his
eyes, suddenly nothing that I was so busy heavily contemplating mattered
anymore.
“Gemma,” Ben said, wrapped in a coat and scarf. Looking at him, he was
shivering a little, which made me smile in a tender, endearing sort of way.
“I'm sorry, I was worried. I swear to God that I'm not some sort of stalker or
serial killer. I just...I had to find you.”
“I'm glad you did,” I said. In our shared gaze, I could see his eyes were
searching for something. Sadness, anxiety, concern. His hands were at his
sides; his body relaxed and yet totally prepared to jump at any time, like an
animal waiting to pounce. I could read him so easily despite how little I
really knew. He wore his desire like a caged demon, resting inside of him and
bubbling up in his widening eyes. And I couldn't stop myself anymore.
His height proved to be a minor dilemma, given that I could only reach up and
succeed in touching his torso. My fingers grazed over the back of his coat, up
his spine, and over the barely-naked skin of his neck that I had to stand on my
toes to reach as he leaned down to accommodate my stature. We locked eyes, his
nose against mine, our breath like smoke in the cold air, our skin prickling
from the single-digit temperatures and maybe something more.
Without waiting, for fear of suddenly losing him, I pulled him into the hardest
kiss I've ever given anyone. His body froze, his hands fluttering nervously
around my waist as I pulled away, his eyes hooded, unwavering. Completely
locked into my own. Wordlessly, he moved my hair to the side, pressing my
entire body against the brick wall, his lips on my neck as he tried to kiss
softly, tenderly, his breath shallow and hands gripping me against him. With
our difference in height leaving him leaning into me, he lifted me up so that
my legs were around his waist, our hips pressed together, and with the softest
of gasps he kissed me again. This time it was harder, more frantic, more
panicked as if he knew, in his deepest core, that it was the only kiss we'd
ever share. My hands were in his hair, around his neck, combing against his
back as his mouth found that spot right below my chin, at the curve of my
throat, where even the slightest brush of skin against skin sent me spiraling.
With his whole body against mine, our heat blocking out any wisp of cold air, I
moaned into his hair and he responded with harder bites. He could bruise me all
he wanted, I didn't care. In that small piece of perfection, I only wanted him.
About the Author
Evan Reeves, unrelated to Keanu although sometimes she likes to think they're married, is a debut New Adult Romance author of If I Stay and the upcoming Fall Into Me. Evan considers herself to be living in the shire, while writing books just for fun.
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