In the dim light, her hair was still like fire. Red and gold and breathtaking. She had the sides pulled back in slender braids and let the rest tumble wild around her shoulders.
She looked so damn young.
And she was all in white again. A white cardigan over a simple sundress with the top two buttons undone. Not her usual style, he knew. Jennifer Finn’s favorite colors were bright purples and blues.
You didn’t notice her?
She was watching him in wary silence, as if she were afraid to move in case she startled him. Afraid he might say something to hurt her again.
Or she’s remembering you with your hand around Trick’s neck and your dick up his ass.
Declan moved closer and leaned in so he could whisper in her ear. “I assume you know what I want to talk to you about?”
She nodded and he closed his eyes when he caught the scent of her shampoo again. He still couldn’t pin it down, but it was like a field of damn wildflowers. “Since I haven’t gotten a threatening message from Leroy and you came in to class today, I know I can count on your discretion.”
“Of course,” she whispered.
He knew. “I’d deserve it. I wanted to apologize for—”
“I understand, Professor, but there’s no need. You can’t choose who you want. And it wasn’t fair of Trick to force the issue.”
Trick knows what I want. He always has.
She didn’t understand at all. He placed one hand above her head on the wall for balance. The other found its way to her cardigan’s collar, just touching the soft fabric. “You think I don’t want you?”
Let her, his rational mind urged him. It will make this easier.
“Am I wrong, Professor Kelley? The context seemed fairly clear.”
He sighed. “I think anyone who’s seen me at my worst has the right to call me Declan, Jennifer. Or…you prefer Jen, don’t you?” Trick called her Jen.
“Whatever you’d like, Declan.”
His fingers tightened on her sweater. “Can you say that again?”
She frowned. “What? Declan?”
His cock was attempting to bore a hole through his pants. He looked down in surprise when he felt silken skin instead of fabric beneath his fingertips. They were resting on her collarbone now. Still safe. Still normal. Nothing too inappropriate. Her skin was softer than the damn sweater. Fuck.
“Wanting isn’t the issue. Sometimes wanting something too much can be unhealthy and dangerous,” he murmured. “People who aren’t prepared for that kind of intensity can be hurt.”
She studied him for a moment. “What if someone was prepared? What if they wanted intensity? Does their potential partner have the right to deny them, to make the decision for both of them, based on fear of what might happen?”
He narrowed his gaze. “Trick told me you have experience with kink, though I’m not sure I should believe him. Do you understand why control is key when it comes to the more dominant sexual personalities?” He was supposed to be apologizing and ending this. What the hell was he thinking?
“Trust me, you should believe him.” Her lips curved slightly. “Are you a Dom, Declan?”
“If I were?” He pressed a little harder with his fingers and savored the quick breath she took.
“I’d probably submit.” She met his gaze and he saw the sparkle. The knowledge. “But you were talking about staying in control.”
He felt like he might be losing control of this conversation. “What if you knew certain things, certain people, challenged that? You’d hesitate before jumping right in. Until you knew you were strong enough to resist temptation.” Or they were strong enough to handle you.
“I’m not so sure,” she answered quietly. “I love a challenge. And temptation.”
He moved in closer. Unable to resist her pull. “Does all your experience come from clubs with the safe, sane and consensual rules? Or did you have a boyfriend who wanted to experiment?”
“Trick didn’t tell you how he met me?”
Declan frowned slightly. “I assumed it was through your brother.”
“He was responsible, in a way. And yes, my experience comes from a BDSM club I used to go to. Have you been to one before?”
What he wanted was to find out how things with her and Trick had started, but he answered her, knowing it was only fair. “I’ve been to BDSM clubs in the past, both for intellectual curiosity and personal edification.”
“I just went to be a bad girl.”
Her amused admission stole his breath and sent the last of his IQ to his cock.
“And were you?” he asked instead, his voice strained.
“What?”
“Were you a bad girl?”
Jennifer’s lids drifted to half-mast and her lips parted on a sigh. “I did get punished a lot.”
Sweet Jesus. Declan studied his fingers as they slid down to the buttons of her sundress. “I like this dress. Almost as much as I liked that costume you were wearing the other night. But I think you know that. Tell me the truth, Miss Finn—did Trick dress you for me today? Did you submit to that?”