Prologue

 

“What are we learning about today, Little Finn?”

Jennifer Finn looked up from her spot beneath a large oak tree and frowned, hoping the man looming over her wouldn’t see her blush and know what she’d just been fantasizing about. “I’m learning about how a properly applied Taser can thoroughly discourage pests of the private dick variety. And I’ve told you not to call me that.”

Trick Dunham smirked at her. “It slipped out. You looked so innocent, sitting on the ground all alone with your packed lunch. Where’s your roommate and her tag-a-long boy toy? You don’t usually eat alone.”

“Alicia and Raoul don’t have the same schedule this semester. Hence the brown bag. My turn. Where’s your rent money coming from if my brother isn’t paying you to follow me around anymore?”

And why am I not in any hurry to get rid of you?

Because he was driving her too crazy to think straight. It seemed as though every time she turned around the blond, bearded, tattooed investigator was there. Well, not every time. But now and then when she was with friends at the coffee shop, he’d stop by to say hello. When she was spending a late night studying at the campus library, he’d be “reading” at another table. He’d even audited one of her classes last semester, sitting behind her and distracting her at every opportunity. His showing up on her second day of the new semester didn’t bode well for her peace of mind.

And your bedroom. Don’t forget that he’s shown up in your bedroom.

Twice. She got breathless just thinking about it. Warm. She couldn’t forget that if she tried. Though, if she were being honest with herself, she hadn’t tried at all. The memory was too good not to keep.

It had been a few weeks after he’d started showing up around campus that she’d decided to turn the tables on him and invite him out to dinner. Sure, she was supposed to be focusing on school instead of sex for the next few years, but he was gorgeous and she wasn’t a robot. She’d either scare her brother’s loyal friend away or get lucky before getting on with her life. She’d thought it was a brilliant idea at the time.

Trick had let her flirt. Let her shock him with details of her behavior at the BDSM club. He’d been in a car outside, “making sure she was safe”, so he’d already known how often she went there—he might as well find out exactly what he’d been missing.

She’d asked him to come in that night, but after a kiss that made her lose the ability for coherent thought, he’d politely declined her invitation. It was only hours later, when her doors were locked and the lights were out, that the devil had shown up, slipped into her bed and asked if he could change his mind.

She’d been too turned on to say no, and he’d rewarded her for her generosity with his fingers and tongue until she nearly passed out from pleasure. Then he’d left as quietly as he’d arrived.

It was by far the dirtiest thing she’d ever experienced in her life, and they hadn’t actually had sex.

Trick was leaning his arm on the tree, studying her. “Don’t worry about my rent, Jen. I do fine. And you know your brother never had to pay me. You were a favor. We both have chips to call in. He used one of his bigger ones on you.”

“So you keep telling me. I’m honored that my private life warranted such a big, irritating chip.” She picked up her book bag and got to her feet. “But as you can see, I’m not out clubbing or going home with strangers to be chained up and whipped anymore. I’m about to head into my twenty-sixth year of life on track for my master’s degree. Jennifer is now a very dull girl with a bright future in social work. All I do is study and sleep and, if I’m feeling wild, visit the family pub. So you’ve done your good deed for Stephen. Feel free to stalk and rehabilitate someone else’s troubled little sister.”

He leaned into her, laying his hand on her collarbone and pressing her back against the tree. She barely held back her soft moan at his touch. “I did my good deed for him when I drove you home from the police station after those assault charges. Such a fiery temper to go with that hair.” His smile was wicked. “I have no desire to rehabilitate you, Jen. Not after last week. You weren’t studying or sleeping then, if you remember.”

Don’t kiss him. Don’t think about it.

Of course she remembered. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten in a second time without waking her roommate or setting off the alarm, but she hadn’t sent him away. Again. And he’d done things with his mouth that might be illegal, making her muffle her screams in her pillow before kissing her gently and leaving her. Again.

Stop staring at his mouth.

She took a breath and licked her lips. “I have to go to class.”

“I know. The Psychology of Sexual Behavior: Sexual Identity and Gender Roles, right? Not a catchy title, but it sounds like my kind of party.”

She glared at him, forcing herself not to let his piercing green eyes distract her. “How did get your hands on my course schedule?”

“Honey, I’m a private investigator. I have ways.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Why are you doing this?”

“Would you believe I’m interested in bettering myself through higher education?”

“No.”

“How about I still think you need looking after?”

She snorted. “That would be easier to buy if you didn’t…”

“If I didn’t what?” His voice always had that sexy rasp that made her think of tangled sheets and talented tongues. “Look after you?”

In bed, his expression added, making her squirm.

“I could call my brother and have him use another chip to call you off.” The threat was a weak one, and this wasn’t the first time she’d made it. She could have called Stephen weeks ago. She could have told his wife Tasha, or let her roommate in on the fact that the guy she’d seen following Jen around wasn’t technically her bodyguard.

His grin said he knew. “You could try.”

But you won’t.

Why not? What the hell was wrong with her?

You like it. You want him to come back to your room and finish what he started.

Turning away from him, she started toward the building where the lecture hall was located. “I’ll call him unless you follow my conditions.”

“Conditions? You have conditions? Now I have to hear them.”

“I’ve been looking forward to hearing this professor lecture. He’s a highly sought-after speaker, he literally wrote the textbook on this subject and I’m actually taking his class to learn.”

“Professor Declan Kelley,” Trick murmured, keeping pace beside her. “I know. You mentioned something about conditions?”

“Don’t come in with me, sit next to me or do anything to get either of us kicked out.”

He put his hand over his heart. “I’ll be a ghost.”

She sent a glance to his bright, wrinkled shirt, sleep-mussed hair and bedroom eyes. Fat chance. “And you’re going to tell me why you keep following me. The truth.”

He held open the outer door for her. “You can’t tack on a condition after I’ve already agreed to your terms. Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

His gaze was like a hand caressing her back as she strode through the crowd of students whose clothing and hairstyles made her feel old. Had it only been four years since she’d gotten her bachelor’s? So much had happened since then—a long-overdue broken engagement, a tattoo, a few months of experimenting with kink. She smiled ruefully. Now she was back where she started, working on her MSW and being the good, well-behaved Little Finn that her overprotective family expected.

No wonder she couldn’t resist her sexy shadow.

She followed a group of people already heading into the lecture hall, stopping when a skinny boy dressed in black bumped into her and dropped his textbook and a handful of band flyers on the floor at her feet.

“Sorry.”

Jen instantly dropped to her knees and started helping to gather up the loose paper with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to me all the time.”

When her ponytail slid over her shoulder, the boy whistled. “Nice ink. What is that supposed to be?”

She leaned back on her heels and handed him his flyers. “A triskelion.” At his look of confusion, she laughed. “It’s an Irish thing.” And a kink thing, but only certain people would know that.

“Cool.” He pushed his dyed black hair out of his puppy dog eyes. “I’m Ira.”

I’m too old for you, buddy. Stop talking to my breasts. “Jennifer Finn. Can I tell you something, Ira?”

“What?”

She leaned closer conspiratorially. “The blonde girl in the front row has been looking at you this whole time.”

She’d only glanced over twice, but Jen wasn’t quibbling over details. Noticing things like that was how she made the best tips at Finn’s.

“Carrie Giles?”

She was good. Ira already knew her name. “I’d go sit next to Carrie if I were you.”

“You think?”

“I’m a woman, Ira. I know these things.”

He leapt up and walked away from her so fast she was almost insulted. “You’re welcome.”

People were walking around her to climb the stairs and find the best seating. With her luck she’d be stuck here on the floor for the duration. She adjusted her backpack and started to get to her feet.

A masculine hand appeared in front of her and a deep, attractive voice said, “Let me help you, Miss Finn.”

She took the hand, looking up with a grateful expression and a “Thank you” forming on her lips. It froze in her throat, her mouth hanging open as she looked up at the lumberjack and part-time underwear model whose touch was making her hand tingle.

Wait…how did he know her name? He looked familiar, but she would definitely remember meeting him. Or seeing him in underwear. Tall and broad shouldered, with dark hair and a strong jaw that had more than a few days of sexy, touchable facial hair. Stylish black-framed glasses tried to hide swoon-worthy, thickly lashed gray eyes, but it was his mouth that had really stopped her in her tracks. His lips were sensual and full. They begged to be nibbled on. Licked.

You’re staring like a horny tween. She licked her lips unconsciously, hoping she could find her voice before class actually started. “Thank you.”

His gray gaze lowered to her mouth as she spoke, but he didn’t respond. She smiled and let out a soft laugh, letting her thumb skim his skin. “Not that I mind, but I think you’re still holding my hand.”

The man dropped it abruptly and stepped back, adjusting his glasses. “Find your seat, Miss Finn. We’re about to begin.”

She spun on her heel obediently at the command, her smile fading as the realization hit her. He was not a student, or a lumberjack underwear model. He was her professor. He’d looked familiar because she’d seen his headshot in the back of her textbook.

Humiliation kept her head down as she climbed the stairs, taking the aisle seat on the left and wishing she could redo the last five minutes of her life. Since when were college professors allowed to look like that? Had it happened while she was planning her wedding and pouring other people’s beer? She’d almost…  Okay, she’d definitely flirted with him. She’d even made a pass with her thumb. “Bad thumb,” she mumbled under her breath.

She glanced down at the hand he’d been holding. She could still feel his touch. His body heat. Professor Declan Kelley gave good hand. She leaned her elbow on the narrow desk and rubbed her temple. This was not the best beginning for a class on sexual behavior. Hers obviously needed some work.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Trick studying her intently as he sat down a few rows below her.

Why was he looking at her like that? And what was going on in her mind? She had one man following her around and sneaking into her bed already—a gorgeous, lean hunk of bad boy who’d been all she could think about for weeks. Why was she suddenly reacting so strongly to someone else? And strongly was an understatement. Something about Professor Kelley woke up every distracted nerve ending in her body.

Maybe you aren’t quite ready to be good Little Finn again.

Opening her bag, she shook her head and pulled out her book and something to write on. She looked around at all the laptops and shook her head. She’d only been gone four years.

Take a breath, Jennifer. She could do this. Just because she was holding an ancient pen and imagining her professor taking off his glasses, throwing her on his desk and putting that sinful mouth to good use all over her body…

She shifted in her seat, and bit her lip when her jeans rubbed against her sensitive clit in a way that made her shiver. That felt too good for her to do in the middle of a full lecture hall with Professor Hot Lips looking on. She shifted again.

Don’t even think about it, you hussy.

Professor Kelley chose that moment to stand in front of the loud classroom and put his hands in his pockets. The room went silent. Of course it did. They all recognized him. They’d probably looked him up on their laptops.

“Welcome. My name is Professor Kelley and we’re here to study the psychology of sexual behavior, including sexual identities and gender roles in our society. First, because of previous misunderstandings, I want to make it clear that this is not a class where we behave sexually or learn the proper way to apply a prophylactic to a cucumber.” A few students laughed. “I’d be concerned with our education system if you didn’t know by now how to protect yourself and your partner should you decide to have sex. I’d be more concerned if you believed a penis looked anything like a cucumber. If it does, we have a clinic on campus. Go there now.” More laughter.

Jen bit the tip of her pen and studied him. He was speaking casually and eloquently, but he looked a little tense to her. If he needed some help with that, she’d be more than happy to stay after school.

“In this class we’ll be discussing every permutation of sexual relationship in the human experience. Monogamy, homosexuality, polyamory, sadomasochism and yes, even abstinence. We’ll explore the cultural, historical and psychological context of all of these genetic predispositions, lifestyle choices and sexual needs.” He sent them all a steely smile. “We will not be debating the morality of any of these subjects. That’s not our job this semester. We’re observers, not reactors. We are here to understand—the way I understand that we’ll be touching on topics that may be sensitive to each of you as individuals.”

Holding up a finger, he continued, “So rule number one of this class. Personal sexuality—yours and mine—will not be up for discussion during the lectures. This is to protect you and your privacy. In your written work, I’ll welcome disclosure, though it’s not required. I will, however, expect insight and empathy. In return, you can expect me to always respect your privacy. I will be the only one to read your work, unless you choose to share it outside of class. If anyone has any difficulties or a personal emotional response to our selected topics, my office hours are in the syllabus and my door is always open.”

Jen could easily imagine the waiting line to his office after that speech. At least ten girls in class—a couple of the guys too—looked like they’d be having a personal, emotional response as soon as humanly possible. Hell, she was having one right now.

She swirled the cap of her pen in her mouth and bit it again in frustration. She’d really been looking forward to this. Now she’d have four months of listening to that voice and watching him move, wondering what it would be like to have a private study session in her bedroom. She wouldn’t need him to respect her privacy at all.

This class would be torture. If only she hadn’t promised not to go back to the club after she’d been sentenced with community service. She definitely deserved a good, hard spanking right about now.

 

 

Declan Kelley wasn’t doing well. He knew his opening lecture by heart, could give it in his sleep, and that was the only silver lining he could find for this hour that wouldn’t end.

Jennifer Finn. He’d heard her introducing herself to a student named Ira as she crawled on her hands and knees at his feet, gathering papers. He was surprised he’d heard anything at all, because from the moment she’d bent down, all he could see was a delectable ass in form-fitting jeans, her sexy little tattoo and that hair. Beautiful red and gold hair that he wanted to take out of that ponytail and run his fingers through.

Touching her had been a mistake, but no one had stopped to help her up and he felt compelled to step in. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.

Liar.

He hadn’t wanted to let go. It was disturbing, how difficult it had been. When he caught her staring at his mouth, he’d nearly forgotten where he was and pulled her closer.

That didn’t happen. Not to him. He wasn’t used to the instant desire being near her created. The fact that she was a student made it unacceptable, but that didn’t bother him as much as the intensity of it. He’d just been thinking about the only other person who’d engendered that particular response when his day went from bad to…

Trick Dunham. His old lover was sitting a few rows below the redhead, watching him with far too much interest and amusement.

Declan’s heart started pounding in his ears and he forced himself to look away.

Why was he here? Why today? Declan had been in Europe last semester—had Trick stopped by to welcome him home? And how could he call Trick his “old lover” if he took the man back eagerly whenever he showed up at his door? He’d gotten multiple degrees and spent hours with his head buried in books just trying to figure that particular dysfunction out.

He needed to think of something else or the hands in his pockets wouldn’t hide his reaction. He just had to think it through rationally. Trick didn’t come to campus—not in all the years he’d been here. He’d never shown any interest in Declan’s field of study, unless it pertained to research in the bedroom.

Jennifer Finn. He glanced at her again, curious. What were the odds that a student named Finn and Senator Stephen Finn’s old friend and P.I. on retainer would be in his class at the same time?

What were the odds they’d both get you so hard?

Disappointment helped put a lid on his arousal. Trick wasn’t here for him. He was working and so was Declan. He had a lecture to give and he couldn’t be distracted by memories of rough, dirty sex and…

His thoughts trailed off as Jennifer Finn slid the cap of her pen in her mouth while she watched him. Then she wiggled in her seat and, after a moment, crossed her legs tellingly when she realized he was looking.

He’d never wanted to be a seat so badly in his life.

Dirty old man.

Someone asked a question and he grasped it like a lifeline, grateful when others followed their lead. He took his time answering each one, no matter how inane. Yes, the papers would count for a third of their grade. No, they would not be watching porn or that movie about BDSM. Absolutely, they would be discussing women’s sexual roles in culture and the media.

When the hour was almost up, Declan tried not to let his relief show as he quickly went over the syllabus and the first reading assignment. He had an hour break coming up and then he’d be repeating this lecture for his next class, but neither one of his current distractions would be present to tempt him.

As the students started to file out, he packed up his laptop methodically, keeping his head down to give the impression that he was too busy to be disturbed. It was an effective method to prevent students from swarming his desk and peppering him with questions instead of leaving in an orderly manner.

He was a fan of orderly. Structure was good. Erections in a sexual behavior class filled with twenty-somethings? Bad.

Trick’s raspy voice interrupted his pretense. “Flannel is a good look for you, Declan. I like it. I always thought you wore sweater vests and bow ties to your lectures. The facial hair is new. Don’t they have razors in Europe?”

His words affected Declan physically, like nails digging into his back or a bite on his shoulder. He touched his glasses and looked up at the nearly empty room with a frown. “I’m thinking of growing a beard. What are you doing here?”

“You’re more than thinking about it. I like it. And I’m auditing. I did it last semester too. I have to say it seems a little screwed up to pay to not get credit for attending a class. Who does that?”

You do.

Declan met the amused green gaze and tightened his lips. “You’re not on my attendance list. You know you have to get approved to be in my class. And actually pay.”

“I decided at the last minute.” Trick shrugged and lowered his voice. “But I already know you approve of me being here. At least, part of you does. I’m very observant.”

Declan was zipping his computer bag, ready to argue the point, when his other distraction for the day appeared beside Trick, scowling up at him. “I’m sure the professor needs to get somewhere, Trick.”

Keeping his eyes on Declan, Trick reached up to lightly tug Jennifer Finn’s ponytail. He knows what I want, Declan thought, forcing himself not to respond. The sexy, manipulative bastard.

“Don’t be mad, Jen,” Trick offered sweetly. “Declan and I go way back. We’re just catching up.”

Jen’s light blue eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise. “You know each other?”

“Very well, Little Finn,” Trick said before Declan could head him off. “We’ve had sleepovers and everything.”

Jackass.

Declan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Trick thinks he’s funny, Miss Finn. He always does.”

“I know.” Her fascinated, slightly disappointed expression said more clearly than words that she got Trick’s meaning. “I’ll just go and…let you two catch up. Professor,” she added with a nod before turning and disappearing from his view.

When they were alone, Declan took off his glasses. “You shouldn’t have said that in front of a student. Weren’t you listening when I said my private life was private?”

“I didn’t.” Trick stared at him and licked his lower lip. “I said it in front of Jen. She’s used to me saying things I shouldn’t. She likes it.”

What did that mean? “Is she related to the senator? Why are you here with her?”

“His baby sister, and that’s a complicated question. I’m looking out for her,” he added. Then he winked. “And possibly getting her into trouble at the same time. Call it multi-tasking.”

“What does she call it?”

Trick laughed. “Stalking. I haven’t actually been completely upfront about my intentions, so I can’t blame her. Still, no use causing unnecessary concern.”

Was she in trouble? If Trick was following her around, Declan knew one way or another she was. From him, if nothing else.

“She doesn’t look old enough to drink,” he warned Trick and himself at the same time.

“She’ll be twenty-six this month, but believe me, Declan, she’s old enough. And not knowing whether or not she could drink didn’t stop you from losing your cool when she gave you that floorshow. I was sure for a minute you were going to join her. That would have been a stimulating intro to my favorite topic.”

Declan rounded the desk so he could keep his voice down. “I don’t care what you think you saw, but I don’t get involved with students. Period. And you should think twice about making time with Stephen Finn’s sister.”

“I’ve thought about it a hell of a lot more than twice,” Trick murmured. “And now I’m thinking about the both of you together and wondering why it didn’t occur to me before now. She liked your flannel too, Professor. I know she’d like what you can do with your tongue.”

Declan groaned under his breath and put his glasses back on. “Stop, Trick. Not here.”

“Here. Your house. Her little apartment bedroom. The more I think about it, the better it sounds. You and me with that delicious little redhead pressed between us? She’s got fire, Declan. Brains, too. And I happen to know she’s always wanted to have a ménage.”

How the fuck did he know that? It might haunt him later, but Declan wasn’t going to ask. “I’m not going to approve of you auditing my class this semester, Trick. I’m sure you understand why. And there is no way I’m breaking the board’s policy on fraternization with Miss Finn, so you can stop trying to get to me.”

Trick glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was around, then gave Declan a quick kiss on the lips, palming his erection through his pants at the same time. “You’ll break the rules, Declan. For her. I’m betting on it.” He stepped back and ran his hands through his already tousled hair. “How long is this semester, anyway? Fifteen weeks? I’ll give you eight so you can convince yourself you held out longer than most men would have. So you can torture yourself thinking about what we could do to each other. What you could do to her. And I won’t blame you if you can’t last that long. Jen is special. You’ll see. She’s as greedy as you are.”

When the day finally ended and Trick wasn’t waiting for him at home to pick up where they’d left off, Declan got mad. Trick couldn’t just come into his life after months of no contact and throw down that kind of gauntlet. He couldn’t push a tempting morsel like Jennifer Finn in his face and offer him the perfect ménage. And if he thought that staying away from Declan and holding out would make him give in, he was sorely mistaken.

Declan had close to seventeen years of dealing with Trick’s games. He’d been doing it since he was twenty-one and volunteering in the prison where Trick was serving time for a theft that his friends had committed. Declan helped him get his diploma and, in thanks, Trick had shown up at his door when he got out and blown his mind.

He’d been driving him around the bend ever since.

Declan thought about the girl. Woman. Jennifer. There were so many reasons it could never happen. Her age, her student status, her name. He didn’t associate with his family, but he still remembered how the Kelleys felt about the Finns. The sentiment was too toxic not to be reciprocated. Trick should know that.

He thought about the way she’d looked at him when he held her hand and the way her red hair swayed when she walked away. He wanted to wrap it in his fist and keep her close. He wanted to see her on her knees again, her blue eyes eager.

Never. He said it like a mantra until he fell asleep in his chair. Never going to happen.