Need Me (Broke and Beautiful #2)(7)

“The music must be too loud,” she whispered. Oh, shit. Had she moved closer? Don’t think of the panties, Ben. Don’t. Too late. Jesus, was it a full f*cking moon? His dick had been hard for three different girls today, all for different reasons. Intellect, beauty . . . now a soft Southern twang that he wanted to hear say his name again, right up against his ear.

“Tell me about yourself,” Ben said abruptly. If he just kept her talking, eventually someone would wonder where their elusive roommate had gone and come looking. He was determined to circumvent this attack on his self-discipline, if for no other reason than to prove he could. To himself. Why this victory seemed so important, he couldn’t quite decide, except he resented how easily he’d been tempted today. Distracted. It never happened to him, and he needed to keep his house of cards standing. “You’re from down south, right? What are you doing in New York?”

Her feet shuffled in the darkness. “I’m premed at Columbia. It’s my first year.”

“Really.” He called himself ten kinds of * for being surprised that a girl with a gorgeous ass wanted to be a doctor. Honestly, Ben. The fact that she attended the same school he taught at barely registered. Columbia was massive. They would likely go her entire college career without crossing paths once. Still, he was curious about her. Annoyingly curious. “What made you want to be a doctor?”

Her breathy sigh washed over him, and he closed his eyes before forcing them back open. “Actually, I always wanted to be a veterinarian. My family owns a farm in Kentucky, you see, so it just seemed natural. I’d get to work with animals and help my daddy at the same time.” Oh Lord, he loved the way she spoke. They weren’t even done talking yet and he already missed the sound of it. He’d begun to crave lemonade and sunshine, things he knew little about, being from Concord, Massachusetts. “When I was thirteen, my little brother, Teddy, who really isn’t little at all, got thrown from his horse and broke his leg. My parents weren’t home. It was just me and my poor brother. And I couldn’t do a thing. I had no idea what to do to make him better.” Her shrug moved the air around him. “Something changed after that. I didn’t like feeling helpless when someone I loved needed me.”

Ben’s heart started to knock against his ribs. There was something familiar about how her words made him feel, but he couldn’t place it. Couldn’t think through the sensual web her voice continued to spin around him. He only knew one thing. Screwed. I’m screwed.





Chapter 3



HONEY COULDN’T BELIEVE it. If she closed her eyes and tried to come up with the ultimate fantasy scenario, it couldn’t compare to this. She was locked in a closet with Professor Dawson in all his tweedy, leathery, butterscotch glory. The second he’d spoken, every nerve ending in her body had stood up and done the cha-cha, and they hadn’t stopped for a rest yet. At some point in her short life, she must have done something right, because he was so close that she could feel his body heat, hear him breathe as she spoke. Was she rambling? Probably. Stop rambling and ask him about himself. Anything to prevent him from making another phone call. She didn’t want to be pulled from this musky, dusty heaven anytime soon.

And yet her conscience, the conniving wench, was preventing her from enjoying this moment completely. As her professor, Ben had something to lose here. Even after a month at Columbia, she knew students engaged in relationships with professors, but it wasn’t allowed. By not telling him he was sharing the darkness with his student, she was taking away his choice to do what he might consider right. After today, though, after what she’d seen in his expression and body language, would he really turn her down in the name of following the rules? She didn’t know. How could she? She only knew Professor Dawson. She didn’t know Ben. Just a little longer, a few more minutes to get to know him better without their roles as professor and student in play, then she’d tell him.

After her story about the day she replayed in her head early and often, Ben had gone silent. She swallowed the worry that she’d rambled him into a coma and spoke. “What about you? Why did you decide to become a—” She cut herself off. Maybe she should take this as a sign that deception wasn’t really her thing. “What do you do?”

“I’m an English professor,” he said after a minute, voice a little deeper than before. It sent a warm shiver down her spine that abruptly ended when she reminded herself she already knew that and wasn’t telling him. “I wasn’t supposed to be,” he continued almost thoughtfully. “My father was a wide receiver for the Patriots, and everyone expected me to follow his lead.”

Talk about unexpected. She hadn’t thought much about how he’d been raised, but no one expects the answer to be “by a professional football player.” He would have been the equivalent of a rock star in her hometown. “But you didn’t want to play football?”

“No. Well, yes. I did. Every son is supposed to . . . make an attempt to follow in their father’s footsteps, right?” He laughed under his breath, but it didn’t sound like he meant it. “Unfortunately, I didn’t hit a growth spurt until junior year of high school, and by then, I’d discovered books.”

She thought of his broad shoulders and the way his thigh muscles flexed when he walked around the classroom. “That must have been some growth spurt.”