Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,18

Because right now, it feels like I’m defending myself against someone who’s determined to forget what really happened between us on Saturday night. How good it was. How hot it was.”

Her breath caught in her throat at his stunning admission. Her breasts peaked in needy points, and she could feel the heat of his body through her damp clothes.

“I know what happened Saturday night. We had a one-night stand,” she spat out, furious at this proof of her body’s unreliability when it came to this man. She vented her anger at her private shortcomings with words. “Don’t you get it? I don’t care how hot or how good it was. All I want is to forget it ever happened.”

His jaw tightened at her insults but he didn’t release her arm from his bruising grip.

“You were the one who came backstage.”

“That has nothing to do with anything, I told you, Jeremy—”

“Don’t talk to me about Jeremy,” he snarled, bending to look her in the eye, his face stiff and intent. “This is about you and me.”

She couldn’t think clearly when he was so close. Her body resisted her silent admonitions. At his touch, angry or not, it abdicated from her mind’s control, clamoring for his talents, no matter the cost.

She made a last, desperate stab to reclaim sanity. “I don’t know what you think happened between us the other day, but I’m not interested.”

Brandon exploded. “Not interested? Is sucking my cock ’til I damn near came in your mouth how you tell someone you’re not interested? If that’s the case, I’d suggest you think about refining your technique, because you’re going to give some poor schmuck the wrong idea.”

“Fuck you,” Leanne swore, stunned at the vitriol in his words, her fury overwhelming her usual reticence.

“Sorry, sweetie. That train’s already left the station,” he ground out as he hauled her even closer to his shockingly aroused body.

The brush of his erection was as electrifying as it was bewildering.

What the hell?

Here they were, fighting like fishwives, and he was getting off on it? Leanne was overcome by a burning sense of shame that she’d ever slept with this man. Worse, that her body still didn’t care what a piece of crap he so clearly was. Even now, with her wet clothes rubbing against him, she could feel her sex clench. The smell of the rain, the heat of his skin and the anger lighting the depths of his eyes—the combination was a heady mix and even as she berated herself for being six ways to foolish, she couldn’t deny his sensual appeal.

She watched, like a victim of a high-speed crash who sees the accident unfold but is powerless to stop it, as his beautiful lips descended toward hers. At their touch, she splintered, a moan rushing from her throat. She parried his tongue with her own, and he slanted his mouth to the corner of hers and down her jaw, nipping, kissing, licking, his dangerous lips and lethal hands silencing her mind and all its concerns.

When he caressed her, wrapped her in his strong arms, tenure didn’t matter. Her dissertation didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but this. His kisses. His touch. Her knees weakened and she melted against him, reveling in the substantial length of his erection pressing into her core. She was lost, awash in sensation and unable to grasp at anything tangible beyond the here and now.

That petrifying thought somehow managed to penetrate the lust that had descended on her like a fog. She wasn’t that person. She knew who she was. She knew what her goals were and what she needed to do to reach them. She never got so lost in a moment that she couldn’t rationalize and weigh the pros and cons. She was sensible and purpose driven and resolute.

Except that right now, she wasn’t.

And that terrified her. The fear galvanized her into action.

She wrenched away and, summoning a reserve of control from somewhere deep inside, brought her hands to his chest and pushed.

“Stop,” she ordered, gasping for breath. “Enough.”

He lifted his head, breathing hard. His lips were wet and swollen, as she knew her own must be, and a red mark on his neck bore mute testament to Leanne’s own reckless, passionate response. Brandon’s arms dropped and he retreated. Leanne suppressed the quiver that shook her at the loss of his heat, her gaze dropping to the sizeable bulge in his sodden jeans. She took another step back, and a cold shower of rainwater streamed into her upturned