Private Lessons (6 page)

Slowly, he lifted his head and gently stroked her trembling thighs and stomach to soothe and settle her. Her chest heaved and shuddered as the waves continued to flush through her.

Brice eased his way up her body, capturing her legs over his arms and bringing them up to his chest as the hard tip of his penis pressed against the hot, wet opening and dipped down inside.

The instant was so explosive that they both erupted in a duel of sound. Shivers ran up Brice's spine as her warmth enveloped him and gently squeezed. He couldn't move, the sensation was too incredible to risk losing even for an instant; but instinct took over. The human need for satisfaction, for wanting more of something good, pushed him in and out and out and in. Deep and not so deep, slow but fast. Whatever it took to keep her calling his name, her fingers in his back, her legs locked around his hips, her breasts pressed to his chest, her lips melded with his. Whatever it took.

Tears of unimaginable pleasure hung from the corners of Naomi's eyes. The weight and length of Brice filled her in a way that she could not explain. It was not just her body that he'd entered, it was her soul. She opened not just her legs to him, but that space of who she was as a woman. And without a doubt, he put his stamp on it. His every move inside her, above her, along her, was beyond sweet. He'd
taken her
there
. But what was more frightening, more tantalizing to realize, was that with each stroke, every rotation of his hips, every time he hit her spot with the head of his dick, she knew there was more to come. She could feel it ascend from the balls of her feet and slide up the inside of her legs, making her entire body quake. Then it moved upward to her belly, and spread like wildfire to her arms her fingertips. And all of that energy, all of that feel-good shot to her vagina and shook it like a rag doll, tossing her from this place on earth to somewhere beyond the stars. She felt Brice's strong arms slide beneath her to hold her as he pushed deeper while her climax intensified, the grip and release so powerful that it sucked the essence from Brice with such force that he felt electrified, his cry strangled in his throat, his body a live wire of feeling that splashed a stream of relief to cool their flames.

 

Naomi could hear her pulse still pounding in her temples as her racing heart began to slow and the tremors began to ease. She held on to the life raft of Brice's strong back to keep from going adrift. His embrace was secure and comforting, and a part of her knew this was who Brice Lawrence was. At the core of him, he was secure and comforting and oh, so loving.

He tenderly kissed the tiny pulse beat in her throat, and with much regret pulled out of her hold on him and rolled onto his back. He slid his arm beneath her
and pulled her close. Naomi nestled against him and, lulled by the steady beat of his heart, drifted off into a deep, satisfied sleep.

W
hen Brice stirred, his first coherent thought was that what had happened between him and Naomi had to have been a dream. Nothing in this world could have been that magnificent. And when he opened his eyes and looked at the empty space next to him, he began to feel that maybe he did dream it all. But that would not account for the throb in his groin or the dampness of his body and the twisted sheets.

He drew in a breath and pushed himself up onto his elbow and tried to make out the shapes in the room. He looked toward the terrace, and reflecting the light of the moon was a body huddled in a chair.

He sat up fully, tossed his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He grabbed the sheet and gathered it
around his waist, crossed the room and opened the terrace doors and stepped outside.

Naomi looked up, and Brice would have swore that her expression was almost angelic, as if she might not be real, but some exquisite apparition that he'd conjured. So he reached out and touched her hair to scatter any doubts. She clasped his hand and brought it to her cheek.

Brice swung down to sit beside her on the lounge chair.

“I thought I might have imagined it all,” Brice said.

“So did I,” she whispered. “I kept looking back at you in the bed to make sure it wasn't all in my head.” She lowered her eyes then looked at him fully. “I never expected this. I don't want you to think that this is what I do. I—”

“Don't. Don't worry about explaining something that can't be explained. If anything, I think more of you now than before. You're an absolutely incredible woman.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, savoring the memories that they'd created.

Naomi drew in a long, cleansing breath and took both of Brice's hands in hers. She leaned forward and looked him deeply in the eyes. “I'm starving,” she said.

Brice tossed his head back and burst out laughing. He pulled her to her feet and draped his arm around
her waist. “Me, too. Let's get some room service up in here.”

After placing their order and being told that it would be at least a half hour, they decided to take a quick shower and be relatively presentable when room service arrived. Suddenly for Naomi, who had totally thrown caution to the wind, she was concerned about “how things might look.” It was her old habits kicking in.

While she was reliving the moments with Brice, tangled and twisted and sweaty in her bed, she heard a knock on the bathroom door, followed by its opening. She peeked around the shower curtain and Brice poked his head in the door.

“Thought we could save some time,” he hinted with a wink.

Naomi pouted, then dramatically drew back the curtain, revealing her slick, sudsy, sexy body. She crooked her finger, beckoning him to step beyond the curtain.

“You don't have to ask me twice,” Brice said, covering the space in two long strides. He stepped into the shower and reached around Naomi for the soap and began lathering her breasts, then her stomach, down her legs and back up again. Then he turned her around and repeated the process. But when he was done he moved her to face the opposite wall with her back to him so that he could continue to caress and stroke her front.

Naomi's oversensitized body shot back into over-
drive as Brice reached around her and down between her legs to play with her. She shuddered, moaned and was thankful for the railing in front of her that kept her from sliding down the tiled walls. Brice pushed up against her and the heft of his erection demanded entry. He ground his hips against her and she moved in unison with him until neither of them could stand the denial a moment longer.

Naomi grabbed the railing and bent from the waist, offering herself to him. Brice leaned forward and began planting tender kisses along her spine, while he continued to find new games to play between her legs. And when she least expected it, she gasped and gripped and shuddered as Brice rode up inside her.

“Ohhh, oh, my..ahhh.” She sucked in air through her teeth and undulated her hips in time with Brice's rhythm.

He clamped her hips between his palms and reared back just enough to get that toe-curling angle, so he could move and watch them bump and grind against each other at the same time.

“Hmmm, baby,” he groaned, feeling the jaw-dropping end coming near.

Naomi realized it, too. She felt the swelling inside her, the sudden insistence, the deeper, faster thrusts. She lifted herself on her toes and did a hard three-sixty with her hips. The move made Brice dig his fingertips into her hips as his strangled cry mixed with the rushing water—all in concert with the
explosion that went off deep inside Naomi's belly and nearly brought her to her knees.

Brice held on to her until their tremors subsided, then he pulled out and helped her to stand up. He turned her around to face him, still stunned by what this woman had done to his body and his mind.

He pulled in a long breath and slowly shook his head.

“What?” she said, as the water continued to cascade over them.

“I wish I knew,” he said.

She smiled, leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips. “If it helps any, I feel the same way.”

He drew her to him and cocooned her in his arms. He was going to have to find a way to make this work. The hell with distance. Then truth insinuated itself in his thoughts. He had an agenda, a plan. And the plan did not include getting his head all messed up with a woman who he'd have to jump through hoops to see. A part of him was willing. But there was the other part that knew it was ridiculous. Hopefully, in the light of his real life, his time with Naomi would simply be an exquisite memory and he could move forward with his plans. Only time could tell.

 

The next week and a half seemed to fly by, but Naomi and Brice tried to spend every minute of it together. They played the roles of tourists to the hilt, going on every excursion and tour they could find. They shopped, they ate, they swam, sailed, fished
and whenever the opportunity presented itself they had mind-blowing sex—up on the mountainside, below deck on the rented yacht, in a hidden cove on the beach, in a storage room they'd found open at the museum. It was wild, dangerous and decadent, and they both seemed to happily feed off the excitement.

Naomi had changed from the woman she was when she arrived, to this lusty, insatiable woman. So much as that there were moments when she would look in the mirror and be stunned by the dark and uninhibited look in her eyes. She felt free, and powerful and sexy and desirable, all the things she shoved to the back of the top shelf of her closet when she'd broken up with Trevor.

Brice had peeled back all of the layers of books and protocol, of heartache and distance, and uncovered a brand-new Naomi.

Trevor had been her first serious relationship, at least it had been serious to her. The sex between them was good, not that she'd had a lot of experience to compare it to, and certainly nothing that made her world turn upside down. Trevor coaxed her out of her shell. She thought she was happy. She thought she was complete. She thought she'd given the best of herself. But this thing with Brice was almost beyond what she had the words to explain. What was she going to do when it ended? What was she going to tell him when he asked to come see her or contact her? Even Alexis was at a loss for a workable suggestion.
All she kept mumbling was, “I didn't tell you to fall for him.” A lot of good that sentiment was doing her now.

Today was their last day together. Brice had a noon flight to Cancún. They made frenzied, passionate, clinging love throughout the night and into daybreak, knowing instinctively that it would probably be the last time.

Over a breakfast of fruit and eggs and fresh squeezed mango juice, they were uncharacteristically quiet, not wanting to lie about possibilities, but not wanting to part without offering any.

When they did talk, it was about inconsequential things—the way the waves rolled to the shore, the tart taste of the kiwi, needing to get more suntan lotion. All the things to keep them from talking about the thing that needed to be said: what were they going to do after today?

And time, as it does when you need it the most, seemed to race by, and then they were standing in front of the reservation table while Brice had his bags loaded onto the van that would take him to the airport.

They stood together—and not. Looking at each other, but avoiding real eye contact in case they might see something that would make them say something that would change everything. So they didn't, because they couldn't change anything at all.

“We're ready, sir,” the driver said, holding the door open for Brice.

“Sure. Thanks.” He looked down into Naomi's eyes and saw his own hopes and uncertainties reflecting back at him. “Listen, I know it will be difficult, but let's see where this can go. You have my number. I'll be back in New York in about four weeks. But I promise I'll call you before then.”

The burning in her eyes made his handsome image hazy and uneven around the edges, and the grip that sadness had on her allowed her to only nod her head in agreement.
Sure
, she thought, but didn't say that if there was any possibility of there being a chance she'd made that impossible.

Brice took her cheeks in his palms and tilted her face up to his. The warmth of his eyes, like the rays of the sun, was too bright for her to stare into, and she looked away an instant before the heat was cooled by the tears that slipped from the corner of her eyes. His lips kissed them away, and then she tasted the salt of her tears when his mouth covered hers.

And before she was ready, before she had a chance to confess the only thing that plagued the wonder of their affair, she found herself watching the van pull off—and she waved and cried and offered up a fluttering smile like a war bride watching her man go off to parts unknown.

She turned away. And when her gaze looked out beyond the horizon, across the water, she knew that her real life was a plane ride away, and that all
this
would soon become a memory as distant and unreachable as where the earth meets the heavens.

A
lexis was at the airport to meet Naomi, and one would think she was welcoming home a rock star. She came loaded with a bouquet of flowers and a Flip camcorder to record every moment.

Naomi walked into her welcoming arms, both of them laughing and hugging and asking and answering questions one on top of another. But it was like that with them, they were always feeding off of each other's energy. Alexis was Naomi's one true friend, the person she could be her real self with, quirks and all. And that's why Alexis knew that the smile and the bright eyes and the chatter was only a cover-up for what Naomi wasn't quite ready to talk about.

But she would, Alexis knew that. They were girlfriends. And that's what girlfriends did.

Their friendship dated back to college when they were both undergrads at Spelman and then they'd both gone off to New York and were roommates during their graduate studies at Columbia University. They roamed the streets of Manhattan together, burned the midnight oil, encouraged each other, permed each other's hair. It was Naomi who always cautioned the gregarious Alexis on her array of adoring men and it was Alexis who would slam Naomi's textbook closed and drag her out on Friday nights. It was Naomi who sat with Alexis in the planned parenthood clinic and cried with her over what she'd had to do. And it was Alexis who pushed Naomi back out into the world after Trevor's betrayal even when Naomi wanted to bury her head in the sand. They were girlfriends, sisters through and through. Night and day.

Alexis hooked her arm through Naomi's as they navigated their way to baggage claim, talked about the latest Bernice McFadden book that was getting so much well-deserved attention, the laundry that Alexis had allowed to pile up. “I just keep buying new clothes,” she'd joked, and that made Naomi laugh. Clothes were Alexis's Achilles' heel. She'd been known to blow an entire paycheck on new outfits, rather than take the mounds of clothes that she had to the laundry and the cleaners. Naomi simply tossed it off as one of Alexis's quirks. She loved her anyway.

“How's mom?” Naomi asked, as they watched the luggage carousel go around for the third time without Naomi's bags on it.

“She is doing so much better. Got the home attendant in place. The doctors say she is a miracle woman. But it was scary, Nay. Thought I was going to lose her.”

Naomi squeezed her close. “That old bird is too tough. She will outlive us all.”

“I know that's right,” Alexis said and sniffed. “Listen, I figured you'd be beat from the flight, and they never give you any real food on the plane, so I had lunch delivered to my house.”

“Delivered?”

Alexis reared her neck back. “Girl, you know I don't cook, especially in the middle of the day.”

Naomi shook her head and chuckled. “Fine with me. What are we having?”

“A little bit of everything!”

“Girl, you are too much.” She lifted her head toward the slow-moving conveyor belt. “Here they come. I was getting worried.”

“Hey, I have plenty of clothes to spare if yours didn't show up,” Alexis teased, hoisting one of the bags off the belt while Naomi got the other.

“Thanks but no thanks. Where did you park?”

“I'm right in the lot on the other side.”

They took off in that direction, pulling the bags behind them.

“You look good,” Alexis said, once they were all buckled up and backing out of the parking spot.

“The Caribbean sun will do that to you. I wish you could have been there. Antigua is truly a paradise.”

“I know, I know. One of these days I'm going to make that trip.”

Naomi grew quiet, almost as if she had sunk inside herself, just leaving the image of a shadow behind.

Alexis glanced at her friend from the corner of her eye. “You okay?” she gently asked.

Naomi bobbed her head. “I will be. I have plenty to keep me busy. School opens in a few weeks. We have faculty meetings, curriculum to plan…” Her voice drifted off, as did her gaze, that seemed to be searching for that space on the horizon where heaven and earth meet, that place that Brice had taken her to. She pressed her fist to her mouth.

“I should have told him the truth in the beginning,” she blurted out.

Alexis snatched a look at her as she drove, wishing for the hundredth time that she had not offered Naomi that piece of advice. At the time, she thought it was the best thing to do, a way to break Naomi out of her shell, free her from the constraints that she constantly put on herself. And it had totally backfired.

“Nay, I'm sorry. I should have known better than to try to make you into me.”

Naomi turned to her friend. “Lexi, I'm a grown woman. I made up my own mind. And I'm the one who will have to deal with it.” She sighed heavily.
“But no matter what, I had the greatest time of my life.” She offered a tight-lipped smile. “If I hadn't taken your advice, I don't think I would have ever met Brice, experience what I experienced with him. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Absolutely. Meeting Brice was the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time. He made me feel all woman again, from the inside out. And for that I will always hold him close to my heart. I never thought I would get close to feeling like that again after Trevor. And that hurt so badly that I cut myself off, tied my emotions up in a ball and tossed them aside. I substituted books and work and moving up the ranks for a loving, caring relationship because I was afraid of being hurt again. Brice reminded me just how good life can be, and that's what I'm going to keep with me. I'm going to give myself a chance.”

“Oh, Nay, I am so glad to hear you say that.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I was feeling so awful.”

“Don't.”

“What if he calls?”

“I'm still wresting with that. I think its best that both of us just remember the fantasy. If I told him now that I'd been lying to him all along…that's no basis for a relationship. It would never be right. Besides,” she said on a breath, “we live hundreds of miles apart. It could never work.”

 

The next few weeks, as Naomi had predicted, were hectic at best. Every day was another meeting, planning and preparing for the opening day of classes. As professor of African-American Studies, Naomi truly loved her job. There was nothing like opening up and challenging the minds of her students about their magnificent ancestry, their place in the world. But her goal was to be dean, which would afford her what she truly wanted, the ability to oversee the entire department, bring the professors up to standard and overhaul the curriculum. There were several professors that had been there well beyond their usefulness and had become jaded and non-caring. That wasn't an educator. She wanted to see each and every classroom led by educators that were passionate about sharing knowledge and passionate about getting the best out of each student. She knew that her position about certain faculty members wasn't popular with everyone, but unless they went after and secured the best teachers, all the technology in the world wouldn't prepare these students to compete on their feet. That is where she could make a broad impact. But if Professor Lewis had his way, that would never happen.

Naomi draped her purse across her shoulder, then tucked a loose strand of hair back into the tight bun at the back of her head. Her navy blue suit was one of her favorites. It always gave her that professional, polished look that she strove for. She never wanted
to give any of the males in administration or on the teaching level, the idea that she was anything but professional, there to do her job and nothing more—which was what caused the rift and ultimate animosity between her and Frank. Years earlier before she'd gained tenure, Frank asked her out for drinks after work. In her mind it was a harmless, friendly gesture of a colleague. Frank had a different agenda and wanted more than drinks. She put the brakes on it right then and there. But it didn't seem to stop him. He persisted—stopping her in the hallway to drum up inane conversation, tossing out sexual innuendoes of how great they would be together until finally she had to threaten to go to the President of the college if he didn't back off. She'd learned to ignore him for the most part. He was more annoying than anything else. Frank would have loved to circumvent the college directive against relationships between faculty and faculty, and faculty and students.

Even if there hadn't been a rule in place, Frank Lewis was not her type. He was just as determined to win the dean's seat, and he had no qualms about making her life miserable in his quest to get it. Whatever he could do to stick it to her, he did—from undermining her in meetings, to withholding support of initiatives that she presented, even when he knew it was in the best interest of the school and the students.

That was the part of the job she was not looking forward to as she parked her Honda in her designated
spot and crossed the parking lot to the entrance of Atlanta College.

She went straight to the main office and checked in, greeted her colleagues and plucked her mail from her box. She flipped through the contents and frowned when she didn't see her class grid. She approached the desk.

“Hi. I'm Dr. Clarke,” she said to the administrative assistant behind the horseshoe divider. “I don't seem to have my class grid.”

The young woman got up from her desk and came over to Naomi. “Yes, I'm sorry. We had problems with the computers, and some of the professors' programs and grids couldn't get printed out. They have someone working on it, and they say we should be up and running soon.”

“Hmm, technology. Thanks. If mine comes up before class is over, can you send someone to bring it to me?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Clarke.”

“I'm in lecture hall A-12.” She thanked her again and headed down the corridor to her lecture hall.

The first day of classes was always chaotic. Students and teachers invariably wound up in the wrong place, or large classes were placed in small classrooms and small classes would be up in the lecture halls. She smiled and silently prayed to the education gods that her first day would be as free from disaster as possible, although she'd already encountered her first glitch. Hopefully, that would be it.

One highlight for her was that this semester she was teaching students who were in pursuit of their master's degree. That alone made them committed and focused. She was looking forward to challenging them intellectually and learning from them as well.

She turned the next corner and ran right into Frank Lewis.

“Naomi,” he clasped her shoulders to settle her and then irreverently bussed her cheek as if they were really friends.

“Frank.” She forced a smile. “Are you teaching this morning?”

“Yes, I am.” His eyes rolled up and down her body. “Good to see you, Naomi.”

“Have a good day, Frank.” She hurried away, needing to get far away from him as quickly as possible. Her lecture hall was up ahead. She had about ten minutes before the students would start pouring in. That would give her time to get settled, sort through her handouts and quickly review her notes.

She pulled open one of the double doors and stepped in. She took a long, deep breath to settle herself. That first moment of entering a classroom always filled her with a sense of overwhelming duty and obligation. She was responsible for all of the young men and women who sat before her. She had the power to impart wisdom, to change and open minds. It was not something that she took lightly.

Slowly, she walked down the steps to the desk
below and put her materials on top, and before she knew it her new crop of students began to filter in.

Before long, the hundred-seat hall was more than halfway full and she began to wonder just how many more students she was going to have. She started to do a quick head count when her heart nearly stopped beating.

At the top of the stairs, heading down, looking for a vacant seat was Brice. But it couldn't be. That didn't make any sense. She was obviously imagining things. She swallowed, blew out air between parted lips to calm herself down. They say that we all have a double. This was obviously Brice's double. Yet, even declaring that to herself didn't help the shaking to subside.

Then he looked down and his eyes connected with hers. He stopped, frowned, took another step and stopped again, causing a young woman behind him to stumble into his back. When he turned to help her, Naomi took that instant to sit down, because she was certain that her knees were going to give out. She started shuffling papers on her desk. Her opening remarks had flown out of her head. Her fingers shook. The pulse pounding in her temples began to give her a blinding headache.

This didn't make sense. What was he doing here? She gripped the edge of the desk for support, and when she looked up the entire class was looking down at her, waiting for her to begin.

Naomi swallowed over the dryness in her throat,
slowly pushed herself to her feet and looked out onto the sea of expectant faces.

"Good morning. Welcome to Atlanta College. This is a master's class in African-American studies and literature. I hope you all are in the right class." She forced herself to smile at the smattering of laughter. "I'm Dr. Naomi Clarke. My students call me Prof, Doc, whichever works for you." More laughter. She smiled again and lifted her chin, gaining comfort and assurance in her element. "Let's begin."