Chapter Ten

Catriona

Alex continues his slideshow of ancient erotica, but I can't focus on what he's saying. His voice, his body language, the look on his face—all these things prove how much he loves teaching. He excites his students even when he's not talking about sex. Once he dives into the topic of excavations and the dating of artifacts, he still keeps his audience enthralled.

I'm enthralled too, like I had been years ago.

When I'd wandered into the lecture hall earlier, a crowd of bright-eyed students had been chattering away as they entered the huge room. They carried various kinds of rucksacks and computer bags, and when they took their seats, they got out their textbooks and notepads. I'm sure none of them had a clue that Alex changed his lecture. I doubt the subjects he's discussed today are in any textbook.

It's been a long time since I set foot on a university campus. Longer still since I was a student. My cousin Iain talked me into teaching a few one-off adult education courses at the University of the Highlands and the Islands, where he's on the faculty. Iain was blacklisted for years thanks to one nasty family that punished him for loving Rae, one of his students. Iain got his job back a couple years ago. Not because a sneaky bastard connived to make it happen for him, but because he deserved it.

Me? I got my new job because of Alex Thorne. My anger over the sneaky bastard's conniving has waned to a low simmer of irritation, but I don't know if I can forgive him for what he's done, now or in the past. I hope once I understand him, his motivations and his desires, I'll be able to lay the ghost of our past relationship to rest once and for all.

And move on with my life. Without Alex interfering.

Without Alex, full stop.

But as I watch him perform for his audience, those old feelings rise up inside me again. Do I want to be rid of him? I lay a hand over my belly as nausea roils in my gut. Why should the thought of getting rid of Alex make me queasy? I suppose I need to understand my own motivations and desires too, before I can cleanse Alex from my life for good.

This lecture hall is enormous. Naturally, Alex needs an enormous room, since he attracts students like flies to honey. He has everything going for him—looks, charisma, intelligence, encyclopedic knowledge of the ancient world, and a talent for turning his lectures into crowd-pleasing events.

I used to love watching him teach.

Maybe I still do.

While the students had swiftly filled in every seat in every row, I had slunk into the shadowed area behind the last row at the back of the hall. Let Alex wonder where I am. Let him think maybe I decided not to come after all. I can't help feeling a wee thrill at the prospect of him not knowing if I'm watching.

But a larger thrill, one that sizzles on my skin, overtook me when I realized that any moment I'd be seeing him in action again for the first time in twelve years. I used to be mesmerized whenever he delivered a lesson. I never took one of his courses, but after we became involved, I would sneak into his classroom just to watch him. After class, I'd beg him to take me to a private place, anyplace as long as it was nearby, and make love to me. Sometimes, we went to not-so-private places. But always, experiencing his lectures drove me wild with lust for him.

That will not happen today. I'm older, more mature, and not enthralled by him anymore.

A memory of this morning flares in my mind. Alex naked and gripping a towel in one hand to keep himself covered. Until he dropped the towel.

Stop thinking about that.

I still can't believe he wore the pink kilt. I made it for my brother Rory as a joke, knowing the Steely Solicitor would never wear such a thing, and Rory passed it on to Gavin, my sister Jamie's American husband. Jamie told me she loves seeing Gavin wear silly things, because his audacity and lack of shame make her "as randy as a wild mare in heat."

Honestly, I didn't need to know that about my sister.

I had reclaimed the pink kilt a few months ago when I arrived at the MacTaggart Highland games to find Alex there. Since he was Logan's guest, I couldn't tell my brothers to drag Alex off the property and dump him in the nearest rubbish heap. So instead, I took my revenge by asking Rory to get the pink kilt. If Alex insisted on participating in the games, he needed to dress the part. But why should he have a manly kilt created with the MacTaggart clan tartan? No, he deserved an embarrassing pink one.

But Alex hadn't been embarrassed. He'd worn the kilt proudly.

Seeing him like that, I'd felt…something. I don't know what it was.

When he lost his grip on his caber, and the tree trunk had crashed down on him, pinning him to the ground…

My throat constricts at the memory of that moment. Aye, in my own thoughts I can admit to the truth. I'd been terrified Alex was seriously injured.

Until he ruined the moment by asking if I would be his physical therapist.

Now, he stands at the edge of the stage, lit by a solitary spotlight, once again proudly wearing the pink, glittery kilt. He holds his chin up, surveying his students with a confident smile, his entire demeanor infused with that indefinable essence of Alex, while he continues his lecture.

I clutch my hands to my belly, though not from nausea this time. My tummy flutters like a thousand tiny butterflies swarm inside me. All the hairs on my arms and at my nape tingle and stiffen. I can't deny it. Alex is magnificent. I want to run onto that stage and kiss him, then rip off that kilt and—

No. Oh God, no. I am not still infatuated with Alex Thorne. He's gorgeous and sexy, and I'm not immune to that aspect of his charms. He's also a liar and the most secretive, conniving person I've ever met. I do not like that part of him.

I will never have sex with him. Solving the mystery of Alex, I can do that. But no sex. None.

My body voices its opinion about my "no sex with Alex" decree when he resumes his slideshow by revealing his favorite image, one I've seen before because he loved to show me this bit of ancient erotica—and he even convinced me to try reenacting the image with him. Aye, that had been an interesting night.

The image shows a temple carving of a couple enjoying a poke. The woman is bent over and grasping her ankles while the man takes her from behind. It isn't the most bizarre of the Kama Sutra statuary, but it's always been Alex's favorite. Seeing the image now, I can't stop my mind from conjuring memories of that night with him, the most erotic and intense night we'd ever shared. We re-created more than one Kama Sutra position before we fell asleep in each other's arms.

I let the memories pour through me like warm, spiced rum, intoxicating me with a mental reenactment of everything Alex did to me that night and the incredible pleasure we gave each other.

Suddenly, I realize the students are filing out of the lecture hall. All but a handful of them have left already.

Alex leaps off the stage and saunters up the aisle toward me, passing a group of students who are having an animated conversation. Everyone else has gone, but that one small group lingers halfway down the aisle.

I move out of the dark spot at the back of the hall, standing at the wall beside the doors.

He stops in front of me, his gaze traveling over my body from head to toe and back again, his lips forming a hungry smirk. "Have I told you how much I love those trousers and that blouse? You look good enough to ravish."

And his tone of voice suggests he wants to do exactly that. Right now.

"Your lecture was very good," I say. "I'm impressed."

His smirk slides into a suggestive smile as he moves closer, standing near enough I can smell his spicy aftershave. "But did it make you randy?"

Aye, it has done that. He has done that. He's still doing it.

Why can't I get over this lust for him? I convinced myself I had gotten over it for all those years when I didn't see him. Maybe I've been in denial about how often I made myself come while fantasizing about him. That denial was shattered the first time I laid eyes on him again, at Dùndubhan.

Today, my willpower is strained to the brink of snapping.

Even in a pink kilt, Alex Thorne is the hottest man on earth.

The few students who linger in the hall shuffle past us. One lad, the same boy who heckled Alex about being a princess, pauses to glance at his kilt.

"Whoa, dude," the boy says in a snarky tone, "you've got some cojones wearing a sparkly My Little Pony skirt. My baby sister would love it."

Alex ignores the lad, his gaze still locked on me.

The boy notices me, his focus veering to my breasts. "Who are you? And when can I get it on with you?"

"She is Dr. Catriona MacTaggart," Alex says in a cool tone. "And she doesn't take pity on children who can't get a leg over with the bearded cafeteria woman."

A girl who's standing beside the bod ceann tugs on his sleeve. "Cut it out, Darren. Don't harass the hot professor."

Darren rolls his eyes. "All you girls are so totally hypnotized by this dweeb in a skirt. When do the guys get a hot woman professor to drool over?"

Alex tips his head down, staring hard at the bod ceann. "You're looking at a hot woman professor right now."

He nods toward me.

Darren grins.

"Not that a twat like you has a chance in hell of seducing a woman like her," Alex says. "Move along, boy."

The laddie and his friends exit the hall, snickering and muttering to each other.

And I'm alone with Alex.

He backs me up to the wall, caging me with his hands at either side of my head. "You never answered my question."

"Why should I? Ye donnae answer any of mine."

"Have it your way." He sets a hand on my hip, sliding his fingers inside the waistband of my trousers. "I'll find out the answer for myself."

I know what he's about. I know, and I don't care. His lecture has gotten me randy, not because of the imagery he offered, but because of him. Alex in his full glory, lecturing to an enthralled class, is the single most arousing thing I've ever seen.

"Did I ever tell you," he says, "about the ancient Egyptian woman who wanted a certain man so badly that she paid a priest to cast a sexual binding spell on him? She wanted him to be so overcome with desire for her that he couldn't stand it. Only one thing could cure his affliction."

He slides his fingers further inside my trousers, and further still until his whole hand rests over my knickers, the heel on my mound.

"To stay sane," he murmurs into my ear, "the man had to copulate with the woman every night. You've cast a spell like that on me, haven't you? Nothing will save my sanity except penetrating the soft, slick flesh inside your body."

His fingers tease me right where my taut nub nestles within the slick folds of my sex.

The breath catches in my throat. My nipples shoot hard.

"Yes," he purrs, our faces millimeters apart, his gaze nailed to mine. "You're wet already, aren't you? Wet and aching, desperate for me to make you come. And it's your fault, because you made me want you this much."

He shifts his hand, sliding it inside my knickers, pushing two fingers between my folds. His thumb finds my clitoris, rubbing gently, while his fingers glide up and down, up and down.

I choke back a whimper, already teetering on the edge. I can't stop myself from moving my hips, thrusting into his touch, starved for more, more, more.

Alex drags me into the dark alcove.

His rigid cock tents his kilt, and intense need tightens his features. He shoves me against the wall, pinning me there with his body, his erection trapped against my belly. "I need to fuck you, Catriona. Can't wait any longer."

"Aye." I can't squeeze out any other words. I want him even more than I had years ago, when I thought I could never want any other man as intensely as I craved him. Today, I crave him more. So much I can't breathe or speak or move a muscle.

Here? In the lecture hall? With the doors open?

Alex yanks my trousers and underwear down to my ankles. From his shirt pocket, he produces a condom packet, tears it open with his teeth, and covers himself.

I fight for every heaving breath, my body alive and sizzling with electric tingles that ripple through me in waves and pulse in my sex. Alex. Inside me. After so long apart. I need his cock buried deep in my body, driving me toward a climax I know will devastate me with its power.

He kicks my feet apart, grasps my hips, and plunges inside me.

My mouth falls open, but my voice has abandoned me, leaving me so speechless that I can't even cry out.

"Try to be quiet," he rasps in my ear while he consumes me with slow, decadent thrusts. "I know you can do it. Remember that day in the library?"

Bod an Donais, I remember—and the memory makes me more aroused, more desperate to hit my release and shatter from the bliss only this man knows how to give me. Once, years ago, we found a dark corner deep in the stacks of the library at the university where he worked and where I was a student. He shagged me in that corner, shagged me like I'd never known anyone could. The need to stay quiet made the whole encounter more erotic, more intense, more…everything.

"Hurry," I whisper to him. "Cannae hold out much longer. Alex. Oh…"

"Catriona…"

My name falling from his lips, it pushes me over the edge. I come like a tidal wave breaking on sheer, vertical cliffs, the spray shooting up and over the top, drenching the landscape. I clutch Alex with my arms and my thighs, my knees bending of their own volition while I squelch my rasping cries against his neck as wild, unstoppable waves break inside me and my body grips him again and again.

He buries his face against my neck, muffling his own hoarse shout while he spends himself inside me.

For a moment, we just stand there. Breathing hard. Wrapped around each other. I feel his shaft softening, but I don't want to give up the sensation of him filling me quite yet. How long has it been? Too long. No one makes me feel the way Alex does. No one understands what I want and need the way he does. When it comes to sex, that is. His secretive nature keeps him from giving me the one thing I've prayed for since the day I met him.

Total honesty.

Alex withdraws, taking three steps backward. "You might want to fix your clothes before you walk out of this room."

He turns and leaves me there, tossing the condom into a rubbish bin alongside the doors.

The bastard fucked me and left.

I pull up my trousers and underwear, attempting to calm my pounding heart and ragged breathing.

He ran away.

And the next time I get him alone, he will tell me why.