Hugh has a groomsman who cares for the horses, but I like to brush them down. It’s calming, almost like meditation. I slide the coarse bristles over her body, and with every stroke, the tension in my mind relaxes.
“You headed back this evening?” Scar’s low voice breaks the silence.
“Yeah, I gotta get back for class.” Glancing up, he’s looking over the horses, hands in his pockets like he’s concerned. “Something on your mind?”
Straightening, he holds the door as I exit the stall, fastening the latch behind me. “I didn’t expect you to come home this weekend. I thought you might pursue that other interest.”
Scar moved here not long before Blake and Hana came into our lives. He showed up needing a place to live, almost like he was on the run, and it was a long time before we knew why. “That other interest is like playing with fire.”
His arms cross, and he nods. “I’m familiar with the feeling.”
“I haven’t felt this way in a long time.”
“Have you decided if she’s the real deal?”
I consider the question. I consider my thoughts while riding, and I try to classify what’s happening as concrete or ephemeral. Our sexual attraction is undeniable, the unmitigated possessiveness I feel towards her is inexplicable. I want to rip the arms off any man who touches her—and it seems I’m not the only one. She was furious when she saw me with Sharon.
A half-smile curls my lips, and I glance up to see my oversized partner watching me. “That was a long pause.”
Clearing my throat, I look down. “It’s a lot, and I’m not sure I trust it. It’s too fast and too…” I can’t say too primal, so I go for the obvious. “I’m her professor.”
“A temporary setback.” A tease is in his tone, but he has a point. “Like I said, if it’s the real thing, it’s worth giving it a chance.”
But how can anyone know what’s real? Only time can prove if something is worth fighting for, and we only have a few months. “The risks are all I see at the moment.”
He nods, and we walk to the house. “You’ve always been good at managing risk.”
It’s true—when it comes to concrete things, facts, figures, bad guys. Relationships on the other hand are uncontrollable, and there’s never a guarantee you won’t lose everything.
Reanna Lorak might be a sensual distraction, but I’m not ready for that kind of loss.
“A common elementof criminal psychology is working with law enforcement.” We’re back in class, and I’m doing my best to keep my eyes on my work, not Reanna in the center row of the middle risers.
Today, she’s in a short skirt. Her blue blouse makes her eyes seem to glow, and the scoop neck gives a hint of her cleavage beneath. It’s not a provocative outfit, but I’ve tasted what’s under that fabric, and my dick is semi-hard.
The few times my eyes drift to hers, she smiles knowingly, and heat simmers in my veins. It makes me angry, which makes me fantasize about spanking her round ass, which makes me lose my train of thought.
Luckily, we’ve reached the part of my course I’m most familiar with. “As someone who works with law enforcement, I can tell you, the role of a criminal psychologist can be invaluable. Not only can they guide questions, they can give important insight.”
A hand rises in the group, and it’s a female student who doesn’t talk much.
“Yes, Miss…” I don’t remember her name. “You have a question?”
“You were a member of law enforcement?” Her voice is breathy, a little gushing.
“I’m actually a partner in a private investigative firm in Hamiltown.”
“Oh…” She sits back in her seat, her face turning bright red.
I’m not sure why she’s blushing, and I hesitate, glancing around the small auditorium. Naturally, Reanna’s waiting to meet my eyes, and her eyebrow arches.
Fuck it. I’ve fought with my brain the entire ninety minutes of class, and now I’m ready to be done. I quickly announce the writing assignment and turn to unplug my laptop from the overhead projector, collecting my things so I can head back to my office and take a long drink of cold water.
Students file out, and the girl with the question slowly passes, batting her eyes at me. I want to laugh, but the truth hits me like cold water in the face. Other female students flirt, hell, some of the male students flirt, but I’m not tempted by any of them.
Reanna triggers something more urgent in me. Her touch activates a need I can’t deny—even though I must.
“Did you have a nice weekend?” My back is turned, but her low voice sets off electricity in my skin.