Need Me (Broke and Beautiful #2)(26)

He should let her go. Had no business spending time on her roof in the first place. But his hand shot out and gripped her elbow before he gave the command. “It’s my mother. She’s at my place . . . visiting . . . and I have to go let her in.” Remembering what he had stuffed in his jacket, he bent down to retrieve the discarded garment and slipped her Lolita assignment out of his inside pocket. “I graded your extra-credit assignment.” When she quirked a brow but didn’t take the paper he offered, Ben felt a flash of self-loathing. “I just realized this is an awkward time to bring up extra credit, considering the inexcusable thing I said to you last time and the fact that we just . . . you know. It’s just that I enjoyed your work so much, and I—”

Honey’s light, sparkling laugh shut him up. With a shake of her head, she clasped the sides of his face. “How can you throw me against a wall and say all manner of filthy things to me one minute and turn back into the befuddled professor the next?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Were they really filthy, these things?”

“All manner of filthy.” She slipped the paper out of his hand and replaced it with her silky blue panties. He had to remind himself to breathe. “Go let your mama in, Ben. But think about me later on.”

He yanked her close on a groan, taking her mouth in a hard kiss. God, he wanted her again. The desk was right behind her. He could just—

Honey broke away with a chuckle. “Good night . . .” Halfway to the door, she turned around and winked at him. “ . . . Professor.”





Chapter 9



HONEY STOPPED JUST outside the door to her apartment, keys pausing in midair before they reached the lock. Her plan had been to escape to her bedroom to unfold the Lolita assignment before her roommates got hold of her. She’d never been accomplished at keeping her feelings from her face. She could hear Abby and Roxy on the other side of the door, shouting at whatever reality TV program they were watching, and she knew they would take one look at her and know something was up. So she would take a minute for herself first. One minute more where tonight was hers. Her secret.

Smiling to herself, she took the folded assignment out of her purse and savored the anticipation of unfolding it, flattening it against the apartment door to smooth the creases. Another A grade. Approval from the man she was seeing shouldn’t, should not, make her hot, but it did. She could hear him whispering it in her ear. Amazing job, babe. You get an A. A tiny moan sailed past her lips, thighs clenching together. Oh God, the feminist in her was stomping her foot and shaking her head—totally justified—but hey, this was her minute to savor the secret. She consoled herself with the fact that she deserved the A. Had worked hard on the paper. Anyone would have given her an A . . . but it seemed to mean more coming from Ben.

She flipped to the final page and did a little dance. Just below the note she’d written to him detailing the contents of her backpack, Ben had left one of his own.

The things I carry (it’s only fair). . .

A guitar pick I caught at a Springsteen concert. A gym lock I’ve forgotten the combination for, but I’m determined to remember. My father’s rookie card. An eyeglass repair kit. Numerous red pens. Numerous. Wrapped together in a blue rubber band. Postcards from my mother. A book of New York Times crossword puzzles for my morning train ride. A backup wristwatch in case mine stops ticking. Lesson plans. House keys. Butterscotches. Band-Aids (an important recent addition, in case of falling students).

Aren’t you curious what the letter from your mother says? Professor Dawson.

Honey smashed the assignment to her chest, as if she were the lead in a romantic comedy and the director had just yelled, Emote, emote, emote. It couldn’t be helped. Her knees wanted to give way so she could fall to the floor and roll around with Ben’s note in her arms. The brief times they had spent together thus far had been stolen snippets, but through this note, she wondered if maybe he wanted her to know him better. Even if she had even more questions as a result. Where was his father now? Why did his mother travel so much? And, heck. He’d bought Band-Aids for her.

Wiping the cheeseball expression off her face, Honey tucked the assignment back into her purse and unlocked the apartment door. Abby sat on the arm of the couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her knees. She waved a fist full of popcorn at Honey, greeting her around a mouthful. Roxy sat on the opposite end with her legs in Louis’s lap, both of them nursing bottles of Sam Adams. Clearly Roxy being cast as “Tina, the wacky next-door neighbor” in a new television pilot starring Neil Patrick Harris didn’t mean she was changing her habits anytime soon. Honey kind of loved that.

“Hey, you,” Roxy called. “Where’ve you been?”

Okay, normally she would just tell Abby and Roxy everything, but she couldn’t with Louis sitting there listening to her every word. “School thing.”

Abby finally swallowed her epic mouthful of popcorn. “What kind of school thing?”

“A, uh . . . poetry reading thing.”

Louis’s bottle stopped halfway to his mouth. “Oh.”

Roxy noticed her boyfriend’s hesitation. “What was that?”

“Nothing, just . . .” Louis sent her an apologetic look. “Ben went to a poetry reading thing tonight.”

“Oh,” Roxy and Abby said at the same time, drawing the word out until Honey scowled at them.