Words of Lust (3 page)

Her finger hovered over the delete button. In the end, after a long minute of vacillation, she transcribed his number from the message. It was probably just a nice gesture on his part. An apology. Maybe to keep her from making a fuss. She would just call him back and let him off the hook.

She listened to his message again, then returned the call. The phone rang only once before his rich baritone startled her. She hadn’t even had time to prepare her speech and now there she was, all breathless again at the sound of his voice.

“Hello, Mr. Stellato. It’s Serafina Luca. From yesterday morning? I’m sorry—I was out late last night and I just heard your message now. It’s very nice of you to offer but it really isn’t necessary to take me—”

“Hello, Professor, how are you?” He interrupted her hasty monologue, stopping her in her tracks with that slow, seductive tone.

“I, well, I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”

“I was so-so until you called. Now? I’m a whole lot better.”

“Oh? That’s, er, nice. I’m glad. But—”

“Let me clarify. Asking you out is not a chore or an obligation. I want to make it up to you, but that’s just part of it. I’d like to enjoy your company over a good meal. Get to know each other.”

“Why?” Ouch. That was rather blunt.

There was a pause.

“Why not?” His voice was thick with innuendo.

Lord. How could a man sound so sexy? She wasn’t used to this. Her world was so sedate, so quiet, so organized so...dull. A man like this was like a character from a novel. Assured, forward, letting her know exactly what he wanted. And what he wanted was clearly not polite discourse.

“So what do you say? A good meal, nice wine and conversation. My treat.”

“All right.” The reply popped out as if she were an overeager freshman with her first crush.

“Excellent. How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up on campus. Tell me when and where.”

She thought of the extra work ahead of her to catch up for the first Russian class on Monday.

“Actually, I just had another class dumped on me and I have to cram. Friday would be better.”

“Even better. No curfew, right? We can really do it up right.”

“No curfew.” Why did everything he said sound so sexual? Maybe it was her libido’s translation of the conversation. Heaven knew her sex life was akin to a flower withering on the vine at this point. She’d not given her near celibacy much thought lately, but all of a sudden it was front and center, and she was tingling in absurd anticipation. She talked to men all day, every day. None of them had made her wet. None of them could caress her flesh with just a word.

“Give me directions and I’ll pick you up after your last class, or meeting or whatever.”

“That’s really not necessary, I can meet you wherever is convenient.”

“No way, Professor. I don’t know how the guys you date do it, but I’m picking you up and dropping you home. Door-to-door dating service. My momma raised a good boy.”

Dating? “Well, that’s fine, then, I guess. That’s very nice of you. My office is in the main building on East 95th. I’m on the fifth floor, but why don’t I meet you outside? That way you won’t have to worry about parking. It’s impossible in that area.”

“That’s cool. I drive a spiffy red Dodge pickup. I’ll be counting the hours. I’ve been dying to hear more about what you teach. Nighty night.”

After they hung up, the thought of sitting across the table from Nick Stellato in a dimly lit restaurant, chatting about erotic literature, wouldn’t leave her. The words of D. H. Lawrence flashed into her brain. “Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you’ve got to say, and say it hot.” Every single word out of the man’s mouth was hot enough to scald. Breathing a bit more heavily, she blinked, then looked around her apartment. It was suddenly a different, unfamiliar place. The red-fringed lamp looked sexy and cast a soft, sensual glow in the room. The French chaise lounge could have had a nude reclining on it, hand outstretched to her lover. And the strains of
Claire du Lune
playing on her Bose made her skin prickle with erotic awareness as the lush tones filled the space.

In a single moment her quiet, predictable life had taken a sharp detour onto the wilder side. Somehow, though, she was having trouble regretting it. She’d always wanted to take a walk on the wild side.

Dinner with an incredibly sexy man.

In two days.

What would she wear?

* * *

He leaned back against the sofa cushions and turned the sound back up. The roar of the Yankee game on the widescreen filled the loft.

The Professor had said yes.

He’d caught the brisk attempt at a brush-off, right off the bat. But she’d warmed up as they talked and now he could look forward to an entire evening with the lady of his dreams. She’d sounded flustered and he liked knowing she got that way just talking to him. He wanted to hear her get all breathy when he was up close and personal. With his hands on her, watching her melt as he worshipped that incredible body. To have her stretched out while he made her wild, stroking deep and hard inside her.

He would lay bets they’d be sleeping together soon. He wanted her bad. But suddenly, thinking about sex with Serafina Luca made him wonder about the woman. What was her life like? Did she have a big family? She hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring and he couldn’t believe someone so shy would have agreed to a date if she was seeing someone. He’d get that cleared up first thing because he didn’t share. And they’d talk, because he wanted to know everything about her. She looked like she was in her twenties, but given her job, she had to be older. Not that he’d care even if she was older than he was. The image of her came to him, all curvy and soft, with thick curly hair and sexy lips he couldn’t wait to taste.

Hell, no, he wouldn’t care.

Chapter Three

Work on Friday went by in a blur. There was on-site inspection, and his focus was on dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s to avoid any delays. He was a good foreman and he had a rep for bringing jobs in on time with minimal screwups. They’d gotten another guy to replace Boxer and the rest of the team, without the rabble-rouser in their midst, had knuckled down and worked like a well-oiled machine.

When they knocked off at four-thirty he zipped home to shower and change and then headed back across town to the upper East Side and the address The Professor had given him on the Wharton College campus. He was a bit early, but found a spot in a fifteen-minute zone so he could wait for her on the street in front of the entrance. The buildings were old and the street was still tree-lined. Gia had said there were buildings spread out over a couple of blocks where classes were held, and this particular one looked like an old high school, all red brick and cast-iron fencing. A wide sidewalk edged with mature plantings led to the glass entry doors, which suddenly burst open as students rushed out.

He watched kids, mostly girls, leaving classes. He straightened as he spotted The Professor exiting the building talking with his sister Gia, who was animated as always, gesturing with her hands, her face lively and focused.

Serafina looked like a goddess. She seemed to like long, girly dresses. He wouldn’t have said they were sexy until he saw one on her. This was another one with smooth, silky fabric that clung to her curves and moved seductively as she walked. His hands itched to feel it as he slid it up over her thighs. She moved toward him and he admired the pale blues and greens of the fabric, and how it made her black hair look like midnight. The flowery print was feminine but sexy at the same time. Subtle. Serafina could definitely teach the girls in the hood about getting a man worked up by keeping things mysterious. The scooped neckline of the dress allowed just a hint of cleavage. She walked toward him, her body swaying with an enticing rhythm as though she moved to music no one else could hear.

He sounded like some kind of wacky poet but he was cool with it. She was so different from his usual dates and lovers. The lady made him think, for sure, and he wanted to go with the flow and see where it took them.

“Nicky!” Gia caught sight of him, then waved frantically, and Serafina’s face wrinkled in puzzlement.

Uh-oh. Was it going to be a problem his sister was her student?

The women approached and Gia was visibly excited. “Professor Luca, Nicky told me he’d met you. What is this?” She looked from one to the other and then grinned evilly. “Is this like a date? How cool is that?” She gave him a hip bump and smiled at Serafina.

“Gia’s my loudmouth baby sister.” He gave her a dirty look, for all the good it would do.

Serafina looked surprised, then pleased. He took a relieved breath.

“She’s amazing. One of my shining stars, and a master at putting all those raunchy male students in their place. Like brother, like sister, I guess.”

“Yeah, she told me about those guys. And no surprise she’s the one doing the smackdowns. The Stellato siblings all have the bruises to prove it.” Gia heaved a melodramatic sigh, and it was his turn to grin, although he knew it would be mere moments before she was on the phone to their mother, giving her the news. The Stellato women loved gossip. Especially about the Stellato men. Best of all was gossip about him. They loved making him squirm, and this was sure to be squirm-worthy news.

“I won’t keep you guys. Have a great time and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She left them with a hearty laugh and dashed off, leaving Serafina looking awkward, and him blushing.

“Why do I get the impression that leaves us wide open?” She looked at him with a sheepish grin. He liked a smiling Serafina Luca. He could certainly understand the appeal of being one of her naughty students.

“Sorry about that.”

“I don’t mind. She’s definitely not bashful, and she really is a delight. Smart, funny and opinionated.”

“Tell me something the entire Stellato family doesn’t already know.”

A large group of students streamed passed, forcing her to step closer to him. He caught a whiff of some light scent, nothing flowery or sweet. Lemony with maybe some herb or something. And the heat from her body rose with the scent and made his nose, and his cock, twitch. Then she looked into his eyes and an electric awareness passed between them, like a shock to his gut.

She stepped back as soon as the students had passed, but the damage had been done. He now stood with a hard-on he prayed she wouldn’t see.

She smiled at him again, shyly. “Shall we go?”

“Absolutely.” He led her around and opened the passenger door and helped her up. “I had a couple of thoughts. I hope you’re hungry?”

“Always. But especially today. I haven’t eaten since my breakfast meeting and the stuff they serve at those things is downright Dickensian.”

“Excellent. I’ll take you to my favorite place. You’re not vegetarian, are you?”

“No. Most definitely a carnivore.” She chuckled warmly and he liked the soft sound of her laugh as much as the sight of her smile.

“Then we’re golden.” She’d relaxed some and it showed in her smile. Maybe knowing Gia was family actually helped break the ice. He’d have to buy his sister a book or something to say thanks for interfering since it had worked to his advantage.

Inside the cab of the truck, however, the close proximity proved problematic. He needed a distraction.

“How was your day?” Boring. But he couldn’t exactly jump right into the sexy stuff.

“Tiring, actually. One of the other professors had an acute appendicitis attack the other day and had to have surgery. The dean asked me to take over her class, so I’ve suddenly got a whole lot more on my plate.”

“Kind of like, ‘I need a volunteer—you’?”

“Exactly. Though it’s more insidious. Everyone knows if you do favors, then you are owed favors. Very civilized in a Machiavellian way. I hope it all adds up in the plus column for me, especially since I’m the newest tenured professor in the department.”

“What’s the class?”

“It’s a freshman section. Russian literature.”

“Sounds cold.” He grinned when his comment made her laugh.

“That’s what I think. All the snow and gulags and yearning for Moscow. Besides, except for Nabokov, the Russians aren’t known for their erotica, so I’ll need to bone up.”

Uh-oh. The bone-up comment reminded him about his boner. He shifted uncomfortably.

“So Gia says you’re her favorite professor and your class on erotica is the most popular in school.” He tiptoed into warmer waters.

“It’s a very enthusiastic class, especially now that the guys who thought they’d get an easy A and pick up girls at the same time have switched out to English Literature 101.”

“You’re hard on the students, huh? No ‘spare the rod’ and all that?”

“What’s the point of paying for a college education if you’re not going to work? Besides, we can’t spare the rod. Victorian erotica is full of corporal punishment. Flogging and paddling, et cetera.”

“Really? I thought those guys were all uptight. I guess I’ve got to get me some of that Victorian erotica.” He grinned and watched her blink as his words sank in.

She looked away for a moment and then turned back with a polite smile. “How’s the work on the complex going? You’ve made a lot of progress lately, it seems.” Okay, so she’d tossed the ball back into his court. He’d give her a temporary reprieve.

“Once the structure’s up, things tend to move a lot faster because the different teams can work inside simultaneously. We’re still a long way from done, but I hear they’ve already got some tenants lined up. It’s a good location.”

“It is. The entire Eighth Avenue area in the Fifties has improved a lot over the last decade. It’s been a real transition.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“Eleven years. The apartment belonged to my mother and father. It’s been mine for a while now, since they both passed away. It’s a real coup, because it’s a large space with lots of closets, in a great prewar, doorman building, and they paid it off years ago.”

“Did you go to college at Wharton too?”

“No. Columbia. It was my mom’s alma mater. But I really like small colleges and Wharton used to be all girls, so even since they went coed back in the late seventies, it’s still got a reputation as a girls’ college. I like that.”

“How come?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I guess because I believe girls still get the short end of the stick in educational settings. They’re still pressured, even unconsciously, to conform to old-fashioned ideals. Not just marriage and babies, but things like perpetuating the idea girls are better at artistic classes, rather than maths and sciences. It can be a serious influence, too, taking classes with boys, because they tend to be more aggressive and get more attention. Even when teachers don’t realize they’re doing it. It’s worse in high school, and at college age, because then everyone’s dealing with sex and attraction and hormones. I like working with them to build them up, see if I can undo some of the stuff ingrained in them about education and encourage them to embrace their own intelligence.”

“I think I know what you mean. My sister Cara, she’s got two kids, a boy and a girl. I know she wants to raise them exactly the same, but the other day at our family supper, they were both running around like lunatics, but it was only Bella she made sit down and be quiet.” He’d remembered the detail only now that the subject had come up. Carlo got away with a lot more than Bella did when it came to roughhousing and temper tantrums.

“Your sister Gia seems to have escaped undue influence to be a quiet little girl, though.”

“There’s a reason the family calls her the wild thing.”

“She’s great, really. Smart and she knows it, and she likes being smart. She embraces her diversity too. She doesn’t let what people think dictate her life.” She stopped abruptly and when he glanced over, she looked guilty.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” He was afraid to find out. Knowing Gia it would be something outrageous.

“Ah, well, it was a slip of the tongue. Your sister’s private life really is none of my business. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Don’t tell me. She’s a lesbian.”

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hands. Finally she choked out, “No, absolutely not a lesbian, though please understand I have no problems with any adult’s sexual preferences.”

“You getting on your soapbox, Professor?” He decided he’d find out soon enough what she was referring to, even if he had to tie Gia up and tickle it out of her. That had always worked when she was small, though she’d developed a mean right since her preteen years. “I wouldn’t have figured you for the prude type, anyway. Not since you teach what you do.”

“I teach literature that dares to delve into the one thing driving mankind more powerfully even than hunger. Lust. Love. Hunger rarely makes men take pen to paper and compose sonnets. But lust most assuredly does. Walt Whitman pretty much wrote the book on it in his poem,
I
Sing the Body Electric
, when he described the little death as ‘love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching; limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice.’ I’ve always thought that was an amazing description of something rather indescribable, don’t you? As far as being a prude goes, well, that’s sort of in the eye of the beholder. I believe prudery exists only in the mind.” She shrugged in apology. “Sorry. I do tend to get carried away. But you’re right, I am making a statement. I’m not the confrontational type, but I’m pretty defiant in the face of discrimination.” She threw him a faux stern glare. “And you?”

Boy, oh boy. This woman cut to the chase like nobody’s business. He was going to have to work hard with her.

“It isn’t something I spend a lot of time thinking about, because it’s a simple concept. I figure people should be judged by their actions, not by what they believe, what color they are or who they sleep with.” He grinned at her in the dim light of the evening. “Or what they read.”

“Good.” She smiled at him.

He’d dodged a bullet and was pleased to discover they saw eye to eye. Then he had to interrupt the conversation to check the flow of traffic as he flipped on his turn signal and pulled onto the West Side Highway heading for the George Washington Bridge that would take them over the Hudson to New Jersey.

“Where are we going?” She suddenly sounded a little wary.

“There’s a great place just up the Hudson. Not far. Trust me. It’s worth a bit of a trek.

She smiled, but it looked forced.

“Come on, Professor. You’re not seriously worried I’m kidnapping you or something, right?”

“No.” She smiled again, less strained, but he could tell she’d been nervous.

“Crap, sorry. I should have said something. If you’d rather stay in the city, there’s a couple of great places on the Upper West Side.”

“Absolutely not. It’s a lovely night for a drive and it’s been a long time since I’ve been out of New York.”

* * *

She could have kicked herself. Nick Stellato had her so starry-eyed she was running off at the mouth, giving him personal details and blabbing about the man’s sister, and she’d forgotten her parents’ first rule of dating: safety first. Especially when it came to dating men she barely knew. Though, admittedly, that didn’t happen often, since she rarely dated at all lately. Sure, he had stood up to the cretin at the work site to protect her and she knew his sister, but really what else did she know about him? Ted Bundy’d had friends too.

“This is a great place. I’m glad you’re up for it. Terrific Italian food, and we can sit outside on the porch overlooking the water if you want, or if you think it’s too chilly, inside by the windows so you can catch the view of the river. That’s why I made sure you weren’t working tomorrow. It takes a bit longer but I love coming here because it’s a great escape. Usually I drop in if I’m working on a West Side site, and sometimes I bring my other sister, Cara, up here to get her away from the kids for a bit.”