Sunshine In The Morning (Spring-Summer Romance Book 1) (8 page)

He was also incredibly restrained, where he and she were concerned. He’d never pushed himself on her nor tried to foster what they’d both known was happening between them. It’d been more that, stuck in the hotel room together, the pressure building had finally forced it out. He’d acted reluctant afterward, too, yet she’d seen in his eyes and noticed in his hands, the slight brush of his fingers in places he wouldn’t go before, how much he wanted things to proceed.

Admittedly, she’d pushed him, at the same time, pushing herself, and ignored the little voice in her head that said she should stop. Now, he’d openly asked her to stay.

She listened, once more, as her moral side told her to back down, then shut it off in favor of the other side screaming in her head. “As my first act of ‘misbehaving’,” she began, “I’m going to take a shower and wash my hair. I feel like I’m wearing the skating rink.” She bounced out of his lap to her feet. “You have something I can wear?”

He was hard to read right then, his jaw tight, gaze deep, but he pushed upright and waved her down the hall. He entered his bedroom, disappearing inside, and she halted, her qualms resurfacing. The thump of a dresser drawer finally pulled her in.

There wasn’t anything remarkable about the space, queen-sized bed, low dresser with a matching mirror, and in the corner, a door that must go to the closet. It all matched, including the bed cover and the curtains, looking to have been purchased in one of those buy-by-the-room stores.

Aarin tossed her a t-shirt with the college logo and a pair of boxer shorts. She had a brief lightheaded moment holding the shorts, but whisked it away, not wanting to look too young and inexperienced when, in fact, she was exactly that. She had no way of knowing what kind of relationships he’d had, but he
was
older than her and had been more places in his life. Times like this, she felt their age difference the most.

“Which bathroom …?” she began.

He stared at her, unspeaking, then nodded toward the master. “It doesn’t matter, but that one has soap and shampoo.”

Tilting her chin up, she gave him a teasing smile, spun on her heel and headed through the doorway. Pushing it to, she undressed, making a mound of her things at the base of the sink, then laid the clean clothes on the toilet lid and spun the shower knob to
hot
.

Steam filled the space, and stepping in, she released her tension. It’d been a long twenty-four hours, and she could stand to relax.

But in reaching for the soap, the thought this was his space intruded. Soap he used. Shampoo he’d purchased. And that made her shower as personal as his words had been. Goosepimples rose, despite the temperature of the room, and she breathed in the scent of the combined cleansers smelling distinctly like Aarin.

The slightest flutter of the shower curtain further halted her in place.

“I forgot …” Aarin said, “… thought I should leave you fresh towels.”

In the next second, the curtain pulled outward, and he was gone. Her heart fluttering, she leaned her head beneath the spray and rinsed the soap off.

He was right yesterday; something would have to change. His job, her classes, something. The questions were
what
and
when
because the innocence she’d had with him had dissolved like so many suds.

Shutting the shower off, she peered around the curtain and reached for the bath towel he’d left. She took her time dressing and drying her hair, hanging the towel over the curtain rod afterward. Rolling the clothing into a ball, she realized her bra had been lying on the top, and a thousand needles prickled her spine.

It took her considerable time to exit, what with figuring out what to say. Stepping out into the bedroom, however, she found it empty. “Aarin?” Worried, she called his name and trailed down the hall, finding him at the living room window. “Aarin? Are you all right?”

He glanced over his shoulder then revolved. She walked up to him, and his brow wrinkled, neither one speaking. Then taking her hand, he tugged her after him back down the hall. He released her long enough to pull the bed covers back, then lay down and patted his side. She climbed across his legs, to his left, and pillowed her cheek on his shoulder, one finger dancing down his abdomen to encircle his naval.

He cleared his throat. “You are the finest temptation.”

She heated at his tone, yet tried to keep the mood light. “I did say ‘misbehave’ just ‘
a little
’.”

He laid his own hand atop hers, curling her fingers into his palm. “It was enough.”

Though he’d meant well, he’d done himself no favors entering the bathroom while Lydia showered, the sensuous image now engrained in his head. He’d retreated to the living room to cool his ardor afterward. A vain task since, when she’d emerged, the shirt he’d given her had showed him more than enough. Her breasts rounded, her nipples clear through the fabric, he’d been speechless for a second. Then somehow reined himself in.

She teased him to make an impact, yet was clueless how big that impact was, and thinking on that, it was that clearness of conscience he adored the most. That same naiveté was also what gave him his greatest amount of guilt. Because if the college knew how far things had gone, he’d be the one to receive the blame.

No, she wasn’t a child. He’d told her that. But he was the teacher, the one in authority who was supposed to have a handle on this. Words that tasted sour in his mouth. He’d meant them at the time. He’d failed them completely, and worse, he would fail them again.

He didn’t know how he’d stand in front of her class and give instruction without thinking of her like this, her legs tangled with his, her lips moist on his skin. He didn’t know how he’d be able to grade her work fairly either … except to not grade it at all. And though he would hate to see her go back to the dorms tomorrow, he needed the break to think this out and make some decisions.

He had to complete his work on the curriculum, though that would remove her reason for coming. Dragging it out would look worse. He had to protect her from any fall out and guard the delicateness of the bond they’d formed, the idea this
could
go somewhere greater if he could just get past the awkwardness of it.

He’d told himself it wasn’t a fling. He wasn’t having an affair. He’d been around guys who had and what he felt for Lydia was so much greater than that. At the same time, no one looking in from the outside would see it that way … as they wouldn’t understand why she’d stayed with him for two nights now. They wouldn’t see it had less to do with sexual pleasure, though he’d entertained thoughts he shouldn’t, than the way she filled the hole that’d grown in his heart.

His actions over the next few weeks would either sustain what they’d formed or destroy them, and laying there, her breaths blowing across his skin, each puff added tremendous weight to his already overburdened shoulders. But he kept it to himself, as unwilling to let her go as ever.

CHAPER 8

Lydia stood on the stoop gazing in at Aarin and wanted to burst into childish tears. She didn’t, knowing it wouldn’t help either of them and, ultimately, show her as silly and weak. Those were the last things she wanted him to think of her. No, if she had to fall apart, she’d wait until after she’d left.

Leaving was a problem though. She’d gotten incredibly attached to their time together and was hard pressed to get her mind back where it needed to go. She had to return to reality somehow.

“When … when can I see you again?” she asked.

His shoulder against the door frame, he glanced past her, then dusted his fingers along her chin. “Soon. I’ll text you.” His hand fell away.

Reluctant, and not finding any other reason to delay, Lydia shuffled in reverse, halfway down the walk, spinning away from him. Climbing in her car, she set her dress and heels in the passenger seat and ran her hands down the borrowed jeans. She’d opted to wear them and the sneakers – and Aarin’s college shirt. Several sizes too large, she’d knotted it on her hip, the neckline slanting off her shoulder.

He’d noticed and stared … a lot. For that matter, he’d stared at her all during breakfast and, spur of the moment, kissed her cheek. Her hand rose over the spot, a tingle forming, and she almost missed her turn. Grasping the wheel, she exhaled. She had to relax. He’d said he’d text, and besides, she’d see him in class tomorrow.

In class. The truth pressed in, her brain circling.

“I’m dating my professor,” she said aloud. Her words hit her hard in the chest, and she gasped, tightening her grip on the wheel. She’d gone to a place students shouldn’t go and now would be forced to participate in a certain amount of subterfuge. That was the one thing they hadn’t talked about, but should have … how to behave in front of other students. Maybe he considered it a given, that she’d understand and keep things quiet.

I’ll handle it,
he’d said, without saying
how
or
what
, and that left her in limbo. What exactly did he plan to do and when would he do it?

Asking herself didn’t provide the answer … or lessen the knowledge Marianne was going to expect an explanation for her absence. She wasn’t sure what she would say, except she’d decided earlier to stick as close to the truth as possible. That way, there’d be less chance of being caught in a lie.

Seeing the college dorms in the distance rammed the thought home. As nice as the weekend was, her schedule was full, and she either concentrated on her schoolwork or she’d blow everything. Aarin wouldn’t want her to do that.

She pulled into her assigned parking, taking a deep breath before getting out. Then, her dress and heels tucked beneath her arm, she pushed through the front doors and dashed across the foyer to the stairs. At the top, she took a sharp right, her thoughts on reaching her room, but collided with another girl headed in the opposite direction.

Karen backpedaled, her books smacking the tile, papers scattering, and Lydia stooped to help her gather her things, forgetting about the dress, which slipped free and fluttered to the floor.

Karen paused and reached for it. Standing again, she shook it out. “That’s lovely, and I bet looks great on you. What’s the occasion?”

“
Was
the occasion,” Lydia corrected, unthinking. “Went … went out Saturday.” She saw her faux pas, the moment she said it, but couldn’t back out.

“Saturday? And you’re just getting back?” Karen folded the dress and handed it to her. She then bent back down and stacked her books, pressing them against her chest as she rose. “Where’d you go anyhow? To wear that, you’d be somewhere fancy and no way would you put that on to go alone. But …” Her brow wrinkled. “You didn’t like Scott, so it wasn’t him ….”

In her next breath, Karen’s gaze spun wide, and she sucked in a breath. Wrapping one hand around Lydia’s wrist, she dragged her three doors down and shoved her inside a dorm room. “Spill … You went out with Mr. Kai? Like out-out? And …” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Overnight,” she said.

“Shh …” Lydia hiss, her cheeks heating. “D-don’t … It’s not that b-big of a deal …”

“It’s a
huge
deal.”

“No.” Lydia raised her voice. “He … he was getting an award and wasn’t going to go.”

“So he took you?”

Lydia hushed. She’d already said too much. But Karen wasn’t finished, more pieces evidently falling into place.

“Saturday,” she breathed. “This is Monday. Two nights?”

“The ceremony wasn’t near here. We … we didn’t have a choice and …”

Karen bit her lips. “For Saturday, if I buy that. But this is Monday. Why didn’t you come home yesterday?”

Cornered, Lydia wavered. She should have known Karen would figure it out, should have prepared herself with better answers. Just the same, Karen didn’t know everything, and she wasn’t obligated to tell her.

Karen picked at the sleeve of her shirt. “That’s his, isn’t it?”

Lydia lifted her chin, her throat tight. “Nothing happened, and swear you’ll keep this to yourself.” When Karen didn’t respond, she repeated herself. “Swear it.”

Karen glanced behind her at a small bedside clock. “I’ve got to go or I’m going to be late. But, look, we’re friends, right?”

Lydia hesitated, then gave a shallow nod.

“So no one will hear a word from me. But you have to know if people find out …”

“There isn’t anything for anyone to find out,” Lydia replied, “and if there was, it’s between me and Aarin.” She used his first name, unashamed.

Karen didn’t respond right away. Releasing a breath, she turned. “You know, I thought seeing him would be hot …” She paused, her hand on the knob. “And I know I joked about it, but it’s crazy-scary, too. I hope you know what you’re doing.” She let herself out, and the door slowly closed.

Lydia sank down on the bed. What was she doing? She shut her eyes. Not “doing”, but had already “done”. She was falling in love with him, and it was way too late to stop now.

Dumping his things on the desk, Aarin checked the time and exhaled, his thoughts splitting in a dozen directions. He sank into his chair and made a vain attempt to gather himself. He was late, had only a few minutes until his first class started. It was his own fault for wasting too much time thinking about Lydia.

Expelling a groan, he ran his hand over the back of his head and tried to drive the images of her out. Problem was, there were too many of them and those, combined with his vivid recall of her pressed against him overnight, made it difficult to think of anything else.

The students’ laughter and conversation bled through the open doorway along with the thump of books and scuffle of shoes, reminding him even further of what was at stake. At least, Lydia’s class wasn’t here today. With twenty-four hours beneath his belt, he should regain some of his composure.

A knock on the door frame raised his gaze to the eyes of fellow professor, Angela Reed. A curled newspaper in one hand, she smiled and strolled inside. “You look flustered.”

His lips pressed tight, he offered an acknowledged glance.

She took a seat facing him, crossing graceful legs. She was attractive, upper thirties, blonde hair cut short, always well-dressed, nothing out of place. He’d met her husband once at a holiday dinner two years before. Nice guy, but they’d since gotten divorced.

“I cut my time too short,” Aarin replied. “Couldn’t seem to get out of the house.”

He wondered why, staring at her, she’d come to see him at all. They both taught English, but Angela, grammar and punctuation and the like. She’d once called herself the “queen of sentence diagramming”. Personally, he hated that part of the Language Arts, but wasn’t about to say so to her face.

“Well, I won’t keep you long, but I was perusing the paper this morning …” She unfurled the piece in her hand. It appeared to be an entertainment magazine of some sort. “Not local, mind you,” she continued, “but imagine my surprise to see this ...” At that, she turned the page around and dropped it beneath his nose.

A picture of himself stared upwards, his smile posed, his award in one hand, the presenters on either side of him. Gazing at it, Aarin sat back, one palm curved over the arm of his chair, his elbow pointed outward.

“You didn’t tell anyone? I don’t know why that thought surprises me though,” she said. “You’ve always been very humble, but, you know, the college loves any opportunity to brag about its teachers.”

“There’s nothing to brag about,” he replied. He lifted the paper and extended it to her.

But though she took it, she simply flipped the page and handed it back. This section had more images and a brief article about the award. His gaze stuck on a photo in the left-hand column. Him and Lydia dancing, her cheek to his chest, his arms around her sides. You couldn’t see her face in it, but there was the dress, the fabric embracing her figure.

“You haven’t mentioned her either,” Angela continued. “Not that it’s any of my business. I’m actually glad to see you’re dating someone, but you’ve kept it very quiet.”

Unsure what to say, he said nothing at all, and that seemed to fuel her need to speak further.

“She’s pretty, but looks young … younger, at least.”

“I’m only thirty-one.” A juvenile response, and he hated it.

Angela tilted her gaze. “You’re fond of her.”

How she’d reached that conclusion, he had no idea, but the restlessness of his class, which should have begun long before now, brought him to his feet. “The award wasn’t much, though I’m grateful for it. I was reluctant to receive it, but glad I went, when all was said and done. And I had a lovely time. I’d really rather not make too big of an issue about it.”

He cast a meaningful glance at the wall clock and was relieved when she stood. She made no attempt to claim the paper.

“Congratulations, just the same.”

With another smile, she strolled out, and he sagged. His shoulders slumping, he sank into his chair again, his will to teach today completely drained.

His gaze returned to the image. He’d known there were pictures, but could only hope this was the extent of what had made print and that the award would be forgotten as the week progressed.

“Professor Kai, My dad saw you in the paper. Something about receiving an award.”

Aarin’s stomach tied in a knot. If he’d hoped the award would go unnoticed, he’d been distinctly wrong, and this student wasn’t the first to point it out. The rest of the attention he’d received was word of mouth, the natural progression of any rumor across campus. He done his best to overlook it, but late in the day, was feeling weary.

“Anyhow, congrats.”

Aarin nodded, but was thankful when the student left. He slipped into his office, locking the door. He had to have ten minutes of quiet or lose his sanity. But the instant he sat, his phone buzzed.

Lydia.
Figured you were between classes now. Wanted to say I missed you.

Despite his unfocused mood, he smiled.
I miss you, too.
More than he thought possible. She was peace, a calm voice in his cluttered mind.

She texted again.
I trust you about tomorrow.

Tomorrow, when she’d sit in his class gazing back at him. He trembled the slightest bit thinking of it. Her mentioning trust was significant. He’d promised to take care of things, but not decided how to do that. It seemed like he’d either have to let go of her or the job. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do either one.