She was sorry? Declan had the completely irrational urge to replace her touch with his own. To strip that top and pop one tight, ripe nipple into his mouth. He was the one who should be apologizing for being so lecherous.
When Trick caressed her arm as if to soothe her and she shivered, Declan noticed something visibly electric pass between them. A spark he recognized. Responded to.
Trick wanted her. With or without Declan, ménage or no ménage, he wanted Jennifer Finn.
Or he’d already had her.
A wave of arousal so strong it almost buckled his damn knees hit him and he heard Trick speaking through the lusty, red haze.
“We need to get you inside somewhere and dried off.”
“My apartment—”
“Too far.” Trick was vibrating like a live wire. Looking around as he tried to shield her from view with his body.
She sucked on her lower lip and Declan almost groaned aloud. She wasn’t even trying, but she was still seducing him. They both were. He really shouldn’t have come.
“My friend Leroy actually pledged to that house right over there,” she said. “I have a key in my bag. And yes, before you say anything, he padlocks his bedroom door and it’s weird, but there you go.”
“Why would you have a key to Leroy’s room?” Trick sounded as suspicious as he felt.
Jennifer looked at him in a way that told Declan she wasn’t intimidated by the tattooed bad boy at all. Most people were, but not her. “Leroy is only twenty-two if he’s a day and he visits his boyfriend Tony every other weekend. Also twice a week he becomes Lola for a local drag show. I have his key in case of an emergency because I’m the only one in our study group he trusts. Feel better, Captain Controlly?”
Declan’s lips quirked. He felt better, and her sass made him want to kiss her.
Everything made him want to kiss her, and ask her if those lace panties in the photograph belonged to her.
“Yes, I do. Okay then, we need to get you to his room. Hang on.” Trick stepped away to grab the purse she’d set beside the dance floor, but he was frowning again when he came back. “Walking around is going to be a problem. Get inside Declan’s cape and we’ll take you over together.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Jennifer and Declan had both spoken at the same time, and she looked at him, her brow lowered in confusion at his rejection. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to get wet.”
She was killing him. He desperately wanted to get wet. “No… I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“And I don’t care.” Trick stared him down. “I’m holding her lady bag and I didn’t wear a cloak, so you get the job, Professor. Cameras could be snapping as we speak, and the last thing the Finns need is another tabloid centerfold.”
She stepped closer to Declan with her hands still cupping her breasts. “Professor Kelley? I’m sorry, but if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course, Miss Finn.” Declan prayed for strength as he opened up the voluminous cape enough for her to join him. He wrapped it around her and looked down into her beautiful face. She was close enough to kiss.
“You’re not wearing your glasses under there.”
“No.”
“He only needs them for reading. He wears them all the time to keep the sexy coeds at bay,” Trick chimed in unhelpfully.
“Oh.” After an awkward moment she turned inside the cape, facing away from him. As soon as they took a step he knew this wasn’t going to go well.
“I’ll hold it closed if you want,” she said softly when his palms grazed her breasts for the second time.
“Good idea,” he gritted out. But now he had no idea what to do with his hands, and his longer stride kept pressing his erection against her back.
“I’m just going to…” He gripped her waist firmly, keeping her safely ahead of him, and shortened his steps. “There. Better?”
“Yes. Much better.” She had a sexy voice. Seductive. It matched her movements and everything else about her.
Trick was walking into the house ahead of them, clearing a path. He needed to think about something else. He had to say something.
“I enjoyed your paper on the sexuality versus environment assignment. Using your family’s pub to study group dynamics and sexual acceptance was a good choice and your conclusions were impressively astute.”
She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Thank you, Professor. It was a good assignment.”
“I try to keep the topics interesting.”
“I don’t think anyone’s bored with your topics.” Was she laughing at him?
And this isn’t remotely awkward, but now that I’ve reminded you that I’m a stodgy professor and your GPA, and therefore your degree, is in my hands, can I come in your mouth?
He was a perverted bastard. One who was obviously not above smelling her hair and thinking of her mouth sucking on that pen while he protected her from other, less perverted, bastards.