Chapter 8 When I asked Stephen how his tutoring class with Harmony went, he gave me a glare so intense it raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Pretty sure I'd never seen him make that face before. Even in the deepest depths of his grief, he had never shown that level of fuck off. It intrigued me. So much so that I eagerly awaited my own session with Harmony on Monday afternoon. Her confession had haunted me in the most delicious way, and I fully intended on pulling that thread as far as allowed. I waited for her with my feet on the desk and my chair cranked back as far as it would go as I stared at the ceiling tiles. What was it about modern architecture that took the beauty of scalloped crown molding and wooden beams and turned it into those god-awful rectangular tiles? Convenience should not take precedence over beauty. A series of slow, hesitant steps announced Harmony's arrival. I bit off a grin and rocked my seat back and forth in a series of short squeaks that I stopped the instant they reminded me of sex. The rhythmic thumping and thrusting motion put far too many delicious ideas in my head. "Professor Rossi?" Harmony spoke my name in that same cautious tone. "Come on in." I sat forward, my hands landing on the edge of the desk with a thud. I wore my usual slacks and button-up shirt, but I'd already tossed my jacket and tie over my satchel where it hung on a peg by my office. Watching her, I rolled my shirt sleeves up to my elbows. Her eyes tracked the movement, pink infusing her cheeks and her tongue darting out to wet her lips. All signs the crush she'd mentioned was far from over. "Before we begin, there's something we should discuss." I motioned her closer with a wave of one hand. I'd brought a chair up from the classroom and parked it beside mine. She sank into it with a quiet sigh. My smile returned in full force. "I'm flattered that you're attracted to me." "I still can't believe I said that. I made a fool of myself." She muttered something under her breath, and I swore I caught Stephen's name. "Can we forget it ever happened?" "That would be ideal." I didn't give her a chance to recover. "You're a beautiful woman, Harmony. But that does not change the simple fact that you're my student." I waved at the classroom around us, where years and years of hard work lined the walls. My accent deepened, something I tried to avoid but that often got the better of me when attraction brought out my natural tongue. "It would be inappropriate to do anything about your feelings." She nodded, cheeks flaming. "I understand, and you're completely right. I never should have said anything. I didn't mean to make things awkward." "It's fine." The lie came easily. It would be even more awkward to tell her I felt the same. While I wouldn't classify it as a crush, there was definite attraction and maybe a few more emotions involved. "Shall we?" Lowering her bag to the floor, she nodded. "Sure." "We'll pick up where we left off." I passed her my favorite book of poetry. "Translate as much as you can." I knew the poems by heart, and the title was an obscure one I had complete confidence she'd have never read. It made for a unique challenge and a tantalizing read. She took the book from me, holding it at the bottom and resting the edges in her palms. Without looking at me, she scanned the page. "Out loud." I tapped the back of the book, breaking her concentration. A tiny line appeared between her eyebrows. "I was just making sure I could do it." The slight edge to her tone danced in the air with a brilliance that tantalized. She held my gaze several seconds before snapping her head toward the book and reading aloud. Her pronunciation and inflection were perfect. The words lilted high and low, the love and intimacy of the poems stretching between us. I stopped her at the third page. "Your Italian to English is perfect. Let's try the other way." I handed her a second book, this one written in English. "Translate to Italian." She did so with the same flawlessness. I'd looked over her grades and found a curious phenomenon. Her work in class had the same perfect translation. She carried on conversations with her classmates without any trouble. But her test scores were the kicker. She had failed or almost failed every single test in my class. "What happens to make you fail your tests?" I didn't know what to expect from the question, but it wasn't for tears to well in her eyes. She set the book down and swiped at her face. "It's ridiculous." "Tell me." He sat forward, unable to help himself. "I'm here to help." As her professor. The sharp reminder attempted to put distance between them, but he continued to struggle with the impropriety of his emotions tugging him closer. And closer. "I freeze up." Sniffling, the tip of her nose red, she tapped her temple. "I know what to do, what to say. It's all up here. But as soon as the test starts, I freeze. And then you ask me a question in front of the class, and my whole body locks up." He'd heard others speak of this phenomenon. At first, he'd thought it some rare affliction, but the longer he worked here, the more often he came across the problem. "If that's all it is, I'll come up with a way to make the tests more manageable. I can't single you out and give you a different test from everyone else. What would work best for you? Perhaps I can implement that for the entire class." I stood with the full intention of walking her to the door. "What we're doing here is easy. And just talking to each other. I don't like answering in front of the whole class, but it's unfair for you to change your entire system for me." She closed the book and slid it across the desk while standing. "Thank you for trying to help." "It's my pleasure. I did not become a teacher to watch people fail." I slid the book back to her. "Keep this. Study it. The beauty of the language is half the fun. And I have something else for you. Follow me." I led her to my office at the back of the room. Tall bookshelves filled the back wall, my antique walnut desk sitting catty-corner to my left and a wall of pictures on the right. I rounded the desk and stopped in front of the bookshelf with my favorites lined on the top shelf. I pulled down an Italian author who spoke of love and devastation in equal measure. "Give this one a try as well." "Do you want written translations?" She frowned at the two books in her hands. "No. You may borrow those to get a better feel for how the language works in different forms. The second book is a novel I think you'll enjoy." She brought the books to her chest and hugged them. "I'll make sure you get them back soon." "Good." I should have told her to leave. The enclosed space did odd things to my ability to think clearly. Having her brilliance close enough to touch was a temptation I was losing the battle to. "I'll have a new testing system ready by the end of the week. Until then, continue your translations and the conversations in class." "Thank you." Harmony threw her arms around my neck. She trembled, and I had no choice but to wrap my arms around her waist. Damn if she didn't fit perfectly in my embrace. Her head landed in the curve of my neck, her breasts pressed tight to my chest. We were nearly the same height, and her softness contradicted the hard lines of muscle I spent hours a day maintaining. My fingertips found the ridges of her spine, and another shudder rippled through her when I trailed my hand up and down the curve. A breath rushed out, and I couldn't tell which of us had done it, only that it brought us closer together. Warning bells rang sharp and clear. She wasn't mine. Was never meant to be mine. I had my choice of women, and I didn't want a damned one of them. I wanted Harmony. I shifted my weight just enough to keep my swelling cock from digging into her stomach. She leaped away from me, her gaze clashing with mine. "Sorry. That was unprofessional. I don't know what happened. I'm just so grateful that I won't fail my classes." The mention of class should have stopped me. It should have brought me up short and put me back in the right frame of mind. Tension so palpable it pulsed against my skin countered the professionalism I struggled to regain. My heart thudded in my ears, in my cock, in my entire body, with a deep hum of energy. "I'm not sorry." I took a step toward her. That was all it took for our lips to meet. Whether I'd meant to or not, my body decided for me. Harmony met my lips eagerly. She set the books on the corner of my desk and worked her fingers into my hair, locking them in my curls and drawing my head down. I swept my hands across her hips and anchored them on the edge of her jeans. She made a low, keening sound when I brushed my tongue over the seam of her lips and parted for me. Sunshine and honey. I'd never tasted anything like it. I never wanted the sweet torture to end. My thumbs brushed over the line of skin where her top drifted over her jeans, and I found the smooth skin underneath. A sharp gasp gave me deeper access to her mouth, and I growled in the back of my throat when her tongue slid alongside mine. The sharp prick of her nails on the back of my neck sent a surge of heat to my cock. I let her feel it, pressing lightly into her lower abdomen. She groaned and rolled her hips. Acceptance. She wanted this as much as I did. How could anything this beautiful be wrong? The question rattled deep in the back of my mind as I moved my hands along her hips and around to her ass. I squeezed and tugged, lifting her onto the desk. She shifted her legs, widening them so I could step in between and locking her heels in the backs of my knees. Her hair brushed my arms, the silky softness an aphrodisiac I'd never been able to ignore. A strangled noise interrupted me. Where had it come from? Not Harmony. I'd have felt her make a sound like that. Feeling drugged from her kiss, I opened my eyes. Matthew and Stephen stood in the doorway, each wearing expressions of shock and dismay. A single mother returns to the city she left seven years ago after breaking up with her ex to seek treatment for her son’s leukemia. Upon learning of her return, the ex immediately searches for the lo...