4. A Kiss Goodnight for the Ages

4

" W hy do you stay at Montgomery if you don't like it?" Chance asked after a bout of companionable silence on the drive back to campus.

"Do you want the professional answer or the real one?" I giggled softly, repeating myself from earlier. The buzz from my second drink had given way to a mixture of drowsiness and deep-seated lust as the darkness enveloped us both, driving alone, in the middle of nowhere.

I couldn't say what it was about him that put me at ease; surely his intervention at the bar was a major factor, but there was a gentleness about him that made me feel safe. It also made me that much more attracted to him.

Chance laughed as he took the exit for Montgomery, off the county highway. "Go on," he goaded me.

I sighed. This wasn't the kind of story you just shared with a stranger. But Chance didn't quite feel like a stranger, despite the truth of the matter. "I was dating someone who preferred to take care of things, so all I had to do was worry about my student loan payments. I was still working." I felt it necessary to add, "But I had a hard time finding a job in my field, and I couldn't contribute much. So when things started going south, I found his dick in someone else and myself out of a place to live, with barely a penny to my name."

Chance pulled in a breath through his teeth.

"I'm not originally from the East Coast and didn't know anyone—"

"Where are you from?" Chance interrupted me.

"Michigan," I offered.

Chance nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"So I started calling around to any contacts I had for a lead on any kind of job that would make me enough to get by. As luck would have it, my master's advisor was a Montgomery alumna, and when she heard I was looking, she called about a sudden vacancy in the history department that they were having trouble filling. I guess they have really high expectations, but like most places, don't want to pay for them." I wondered if he could see me rolling my eyes in the darkness.

"Anyway," I continued, "I fit the bill. Decently educated. But young and a woman, so they can justify underpaying me." I leaned my head against the cold glass window. "But it's not all bad. I get free room and board, and when I'm not teaching, I have plenty of time to myself. Even have a secret cozy little space that's my own."

I glanced over at Chance. A dreamy smile softly settled along his face.

"That does sound nice," he agreed.

"I've spent all this time talking about myself and you've told me nothing about you," I suddenly realized. "What do you do?"

"In between jobs," Chance said. "But I like photography."

"What kind of photography?" I asked, allowing my eyes to trace the sharp contours of his face and jaw as he drove. I couldn't help but let them settle on his perfect lips.

"Old school—I've got an antique camera that takes gorgeous shots. It's a nightmare to have to set up a darkroom for development, because I don't trust modern places with my prints—too easy for the negatives to get ruined or lost, but the results are worth it." His passion and enthusiasm for the hobby was apparent.

"What kinds of things do you like to shoot?"

"Mostly nature, but occasionally portraits." Chance's lips again lifted into a smile. "Maybe you can be my muse."

"I'd like that." I smiled to myself in the darkness. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach at the thought of seeing him again…of being more than his muse. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt a connection like this with someone, almost as if I'd known him for a long time. Kindred souls, perhaps?

But all too soon, we arrived at the Montgomery campus, the trees of the surrounding forest receding to reveal menacing stonework in the clearing that held the campus grounds.

"You can park just over there." I pointed to the lot on the side of the carriage house.

Fidgeting in my seat as he pulled into a parking spot, I gathered every ounce of courage I could muster to ask, "Would you mind walking me up?"

Chance put the car in park. "I'd love to."

"I'm on the fourth floor. There's only stairs." I wanted to be honest about the trek. Thankfully most of the faculty that stayed on campus had not yet returned, and I had always been the only resident on the fourth floor, so we wouldn't have to deal with anyone seeing us.

"I'll survive." He chuckled, getting out of the car and making it to my door just before I could open it myself.

"Thanks." I took his offered hand as I exited. My mind was racing a million miles a minute, trying to figure out what I was going to do as we walked toward the carriage house.

What do I want to happen here?

What am I willing to let happen?

Chance kept my hand in his as we ascended the three sets of stone stairs to the fourth floor, where I was the sole occupant.

"This is me…" I stopped in front of my door; my nerves were on overdrive.

With my back to the door, I peered up at Chance through my lashes. He seemed to be waiting for me to make a move, maybe not wanting to be disrespectful after the close call in the bar.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you for what you did tonight," I started, raising my finger to trace the buttons on the front of his polo shirt. "What may have been a small act on your part may have completely altered the trajectory of my entire life." The sentiment was perhaps a bit hyperbolic, but I felt it was the truth.

"I'm glad I was there." Chance's eyes darkened slightly as he decreased the space between us by millimeters. "I'm glad I met you, Violet." His voice was low and husky.

"I'm glad I met you too, Chance." I closed the distance, leaning in for a hug. "Thank you." I took a moment to breathe him in, the musk of his aftershave, the fresh soap scent of his shirt and hair. I reveled in the feel of his arms constricting around me and the warmth of his body permeating through the layers of clothes that separated us.

I glanced up at him, which was my undoing.

Unable to continue denying myself, I wrapped one hand around the base of his neck and whispered, "I really want you to kiss me," before his lips descended on mine, having received permission.

Chance was gentle at first, taking his time with me, pulling me closer while simultaneously pressing me against the door.

My stomach flipped as he explored my mouth; my heart was beating out of my chest. I knew the drinks were softening the edges of the experience, but I didn't think I'd ever been so physically attracted to someone before. I felt as though my entire body was vibrating with need for him—an entirely new, but exciting experience.

My first love (and first soul-crushing heartbreak) had been my high school sweetheart and the love had been young, but friendly and comfortable. My most recent relationship had burned fast and bright, but lacked a lot of emotional depth.

I cleared my head, trying to focus on the gorgeous man I was happily drowning in. I didn't want to think about anyone else, certainly not anyone from before. I only wanted to think about Chance.

Moaning into his mouth at the feeling of his desire settled just below my stomach gave him the incentive he needed to let his tongue slip past my lips, exploring my mouth with both expert skill and ease.

I could taste the faint crispness of his citrusy beer on his tongue, along with an essence that just felt so quintessentially him. I let one hand keep him close, still resting at the base of his neck, while the other slowly descended down his chest, gently squeezing his hardness.

Chance pulled away, a groan escaping as he rested his forehead against mine. Our panting breaths were the only sounds in the dim hallway.

"Come inside," I whispered, aware only after the words had escaped my lips of the double meaning they may have indicated.

"You're making it very hard for me to be a gentleman." Chance chuckled against me, leaning in to suck my bottom lip between his before releasing it abruptly. "You've been drinking." He traced a finger along my jaw.

"I'm not drunk." My beseeching tone undermined the attempted assertion. And while I could still feel the buzz of the liquor humming through my veins, I felt I was present enough to consent. "You don't have to be a gentleman," I teased, hoping he understood what I was implying. Heat pooled between my legs, and the thought of having him inside me made me squeeze my thighs together to alleviate the building pressure.

"You're killing me, Violet." His eyes were closed, his brow knitted together, as if he was in pain.

"Please…" I didn't mean to sound so desperate, but frankly, I was. It had been over a year since I'd been with anyone, and I hadn't realized how much I needed to feel something until Chance happened along.

"I shouldn't—I can't," Chance corrected himself, taking a slow step back from me, his hands still around my waist. "Could I get your number?"

"Only if you're coming in." I raised an eyebrow in challenge—one last-ditch effort to get what I wanted.

Chance cocked his head, letting his eyes rake over me. I was still catching my breath; my lips already felt swollen, and I was sure my cheeks were pink from both the kiss and the lingering effects of the alcohol in my system.

He took another step back.

I frowned up at him.

"Don't worry, I'm certain I'll be running into you again." He smirked.

If he was a townie and thought I'd be back at the bar soon, he'd be mistaken. But the spark of my pride prevented me from continuing to beg or giving him my number anyway.

Maybe it was the alcohol that made his rejection sting a bit more than it should have. Or maybe it was the fact that I had never been more forward with a guy in my life. The physical attraction continued to throb between my legs.

"Open your door," he commanded, taking another step away. "I want to make sure you're safe inside your room."

I dug in my pocket for my keys and was pleased when the deadbolt didn't stick despite the humidity outside. I turned around one last time and found him another few paces back. "Goodbye, Chance," I lamented softly.

"Goodnight, Violet." He smiled before turning to walk away.

I closed the door behind me, sliding down with my back pressed against it. He had gotten me so hot and bothered I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep without touching myself. I was angry with him for leaving me that way, but I smiled at his words: "I'm certain I'll be running into you again."

I sure as hell hoped so.