Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Maureen

The glow of the red and green Christmas lights reflected in the window where I watched snow fall in thick, fluffy blobs. Everyone had cocktails in their hands, and there was happy chatter mixed with Christmas music, making the room buzz with holiday energy.

When Trent walked into the staff room, I watched his reflection in the window. Tall, with a confident gait, Trent commanded every room he entered. I admired that about him.

He was well loved too. As soon as he arrived, people rushed to greet him and their cheery calls pulled me from my spot by the window to move closer to the group—closer to him. I was the newest member of the group, so I was normally a bit reserved, but tonight I'd had a few glasses of wine.

This little party started a few years ago, off the books, as an impromptu holiday send-off. Potluck style, it was originally sans alcohol, but since no one outside of the department came to their building, and the students were long gone, it had morphed into something with more holiday cheer.

Trent strode right to the table where the plastic cups had been set up, glanced at the various bottles of liquor, wine, and mixers and poured himself a drink. Once he'd taken a liberal swallow, he spoke over the speakers currently playing, White Christmas.

"So… one of my students kissed me today."

His words had a hush falling over the room. I bit my lip, watching his handsome face as he made eye contact with everyone around him. My stomach flipped when his gaze held mine a beat longer than anyone else's.

The group of about fifteen or so staff members was a captive audience, me included. Trent was late to the party because he was one of the few professors who offered a late class on Friday evening. I had one too, but my students left as quickly as possible after my class, where his often hung back trying to steal a moment with him. And it wasn't because he taught a more engaging subject either.

The man was gorgeous, had enough charisma for ten people, and a sex appeal that shouldn't be legal. Even his male students loved hanging out with him. I'd often see him during a free block in the college lounge shooting pool or just hanging around with his students.

Despite this easygoing way he had, he still commanded respect. When he wasn't happy with you, and you knew it with just one disappointed look, you'd do anything to get back in his good graces. On more than one occasion, I thought he'd make a good Dom, a Daddy Dom. It was a silly thing I did with people in general, putting them into BDSM categories.

"No way," someone said, turning the music down to a low hum. "Was it a ‘Merry Christmas' kiss?"

I moved closer, just as invested in the story as everyone else, knowing it would be amusing.

"What happened?" Daniel Fitzpatrick, the head of the physics department, asked, sounding a little past buzzed. He should definitely be a sub. He needed someone to keep him in line.

Trent held up a hand, looking serious, even though everyone knew he wasn't.

"Don't worry, it was one of my mature students."

"Mature or not, it's totally inappropriate." This was said by Julianna Watts, also from the physics department. Her soon-to-be ex-husband, a professor from another department, had recently been caught having an affair with one of his students. The student was of age, but he'd still lost his job and his wife over it. Julianna would totally be a Domme. I cocked my head, peering at her as I took in her stiff shoulders, perfect posture, and no-nonsense tone.

Maybe she was. After all, they say it takes one to know one. And as much as I liked putting other people in roles, I knew my own. I was a Domme, for sure. Not a practicing one, oh no, the thought of actually topping anyone terrified me, but I could never be a sub. I could never give up the control I clung so tightly to in every area of my life. Not even if I sometimes wanted to.

"True. And gross." Trent pulled a face, then hid a smirk behind his solo cup as he swallowed a swig of whatever he'd poured himself.

"Gross?" I questioned, feeling affronted as a woman in her late thirties. "How mature is this student?"

He winked at me. "Yeah, Boomer drooled all over my face." He motioned to the area around his mouth where his perfect lips were currently curved at the corners and his dimple played peek-a-boo on his left cheek.

"What?" someone else asked, chuckling. "You've got a boomer in your class?"

"My student's guide dog, Boomer. The old boy's at least twelve, that's mature for a Labrador, and he's been to every class. He's probably absorbed more of my curriculum than some of my human students." Trent faked a grumpy look.

We all laughed, which was exactly what he was aiming for.

"Cute," someone murmured and turned the music back up.

A short time later, and another drink in, Trent's eyes landed on mine. And when he made his way toward me, my heart pounded the closer he got.

"Hi."

I bit my lip, chewing off the strawberry lip gloss I'd just reapplied. "Hi."

"A little more crowded in here tonight, yeah?"

I looked around as if I hadn't noticed and shrugged. "A bit." We saw each other here nightly when we'd pick up our lunch bags from the fridge after class. Usually, it was just the two of us.

"I've been trying to come over here all night."

It was true, but every time he'd looked in my direction, starting to head my way, someone would snag him and he'd be dragged into another conversation.

"How was your last class?"

"Uneventful. No one drooled on my face." I pressed my fingertips to my lips, holding back my smile.

His gaze roamed over my body, down, then up again, until our eyes met. "You don't know what you're missing." And then he leaned down, capturing my mouth.

His tongue was warm with whiskey, lemon and ginger, and it teased past my lips with a skill far surpassing the last man I'd kissed. His hand found my neck and he cupped it as he continued the kiss, deepening it, sweeping his warm tongue over mine, making me tingle all the way down to my toes. And when he released my mouth, my eyes, heavy with desire, fell to his beautiful lips, and I was left wanting more.

"Go out to dinner with me? It's all I want for Christmas. And I promise not to drool on your face."

My eyes widened. I hadn't expected him to ask me out. Then again, I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting after that kiss. For a second, the flashing Christmas decorations reflecting in the metal rims of his glasses felt like warning lights.

Twisting my mouth, I assessed him. We'd been casually flirting for months, but he'd never made his move. And I wasn't sure I wanted to date, so I'd never made one either.

Maybe it was the kiss, the warmth in my belly from the three glasses of wine, or the thought of another lonely holiday. Even though, deep down, I knew it was a bad idea, I wanted to say yes.

"I can't answer that. It's not Christmas yet. I don't want to ruin it for you."

His brows rose. "Santa already personally told me he was wrapping my gift in a red bow."

I swallowed hard, looking down where his finger traced the red bow tied at the waist of my red wrap dress. My breath hitched and my belly fluttered with each inch his finger traveled.

"Well, I guess I can't be the reason you stop believing in Santa, now can I?" I said, looking up when he finally stopped touching me.

He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and flashed me a smile that weakened my knees. "Not unless you want to end up on his naughty list."

The way he said it made the weakness in my knees rise to my middle and increase by tenfold, maybe a hundredfold.

"Oh, no. Not the naughty list," I whispered, staring way too intensely at his lips.

"Oh, yes, the naughty list. You don't want to be there, Maureen. You'd much rather be on Santa's nice list. I hear Santa spanks the people on his naughty list."

It was a perfectly vanilla thing to say, right? But it still caused my kinky side to hum, reminding me I shouldn't be dating anyone, not even a vanilla.

And certainly not someone who fit in a perfectly decorated Daddy Dom box the way this man did. He may be sexy as fuck, the kind of sexy that fueled fantasies with my battery-operated boyfriend, but he wasn't the type of guy to dip your toe into the dating pool with.

So why was I considering it? Why was I holding my breath, waiting for him to ask again, to press me for an answer?

"How about Friday? I'll make a reservation?"

There was a glimpse of hope in his expression, as if for once he wasn't confident in the outcome of his invitation. It wasn't a look I was used to seeing on him since his charm most often swayed things his way, and admittedly I found it appealing.

The rush it gave me made it impossible to say no, even though I knew I should. For a woman like me, who needed to be in control, and couldn't fathom giving it up, dating a guy like Trent seemed like a recipe for disaster. But what if it wasn't?

"Sure," I blurted, impulsively. My hands started to shake as I looked around for my stuff. Somehow, I'd lost control of myself, and of the situation. I'd let him kiss me, I'd said yes? It had to be the alcohol.

My need for control was the reason I rarely drank more than a glass of wine or two. But tonight, I'd had three. And I probably hadn't eaten as much as I should have. So I wasn't in my right mind. I didn't have my wits about me. And I said yes, before I could stop myself.

I could cancel later, right? Even as I had the thought, my stomach rolled. Canceling a date was such a shitty thing to do, and I liked Trent. And not just as a man. He was an excellent teacher, and a genuinely good person. I liked him as a colleague, and a friendship would be nice. I didn't have many friends here. So maybe I wouldn't cancel.

I touched my lips, the memory of our kiss sending a zing through me. The room suddenly felt too small.

"Call me." I looked down at my watch. "I'm sorry, I have to go. My Uber is almost here."

"I'll walk you down."

My eyes dropped to his curved lips, knowing what would happen if he walked me down, knowing my defenses were weakened.

"No, that's okay. Stay, enjoy the rest of the party." And as if I'd summoned him, Daniel wobbled forward, throwing his arm over Trent's shoulder, almost knocking them both to the ground. Slipping away before Trent was able to steady Daniel, I made it out of the room unscathed.

I was breathing heavily when my Uber arrived, and not because I'd jogged down three flights of stairs in heels either.

I was trying not to cry. I wanted to go on that date. I wanted to have sex― god, I wanted to have sex . Why couldn't I just be normal and enjoy a man's company without needing to control everything? Why couldn't I be with a man like Trent?

"Too much wine, Maureen. Alcohol makes you feel sorry for yourself."

"What's that?" the driver asked.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."