Forbidden Love by Elizabeth Nelson Read Free Book Online

her
ear.
     
    The hair on Trisha’s arms rose. In a cogent
moment, she opened her eyes wide and looked around.
     
    “We’re in a stairwell,” she said.
     
    “Yes, my dear. What a brilliant observation.”
He was nuzzling her. “I like my student actors to be aware of their
surroundings, always, to take note of the real-life stage that they
can bring to their dramatic one, to recreate life as accurately as
possible…”
     
    Trisha laughed. “You’re full of shit, sir.”
Damn—he made her feel so playful, so sexy! That conniving bastard.
She was beginning to forget her scorching shame from a few nights
earlier.
     
    “You’re right! Another brilliant
observation.” Rusty unbuttoned her coat and pushed both flaps
aside. He brought her in closer by the waist. She sensed the heat
brewing between them. “You ever made love in a school
building?”
     
    Trisha’s heartbeat stopped for a millisecond,
and when it resumed, it banged clumsily, warning her that Rusty was
a guy who got what he wanted. Could he be serious? Screwing on the
stairs in the performing arts center, in the late afternoon, with
the enthusiasm of amateur actors and musicians echoing from
practically every classroom? Something about the prospect incited a
flicker of excitement between her legs. She squeezed them together,
not sure she should surrender to the urge.
     
    “We can’t,” Trisha whispered. His hands were
on her thighs, now. “I thought you said you’d get fired if anyone
knew about us.”
     
    He smiled cunningly and slid his hand onto
her breast. “As you said, I guess I’m just full of shit.”
     
    With his left arm, in one nimble motion, he
swung her on top of him. She straddled him, and he stirred in
response. He put his hands on her buttocks.
     
    “This is more like it,” he said. “You’re
snapping me out of my bad mood, baby.”
     
    Trisha found herself once again in awe of his
striking looks and his power over her. Now she had an explanation
for why he had been such an asshole, and it was a valid one. Maybe
she wouldn’t try to rationalize why she shouldn’t get roped back
in, maybe she would just let herself go, maybe this could be the
adventure, and eventually the sure thing, that she had been
searching for.
     
    His hands were up her shirt now, rubbing her
and heightening her arousal. She reached down to grasp him, and he
moaned. His tongue was exploring her mouth with aggression. She
felt his fingers inch down the back of her jeans, treading the base
of her spine, her tailbone, the winter sun pouring through a
skylight many stories above them washed her back in warmth.
     
    The creaking of heavy metal doors, once
again, propelled her off of him suddenly. She plopped back onto the
step beside Rusty on her rear end, grimacing with the impact. They
gave one another a frenzied look. Rusty flipped open his courier
bag and whipped out a notebook and a pencil. Footsteps, and then a
shadow, descended on the two of them.
     
    “Hi, Aaron,” Rusty said casually to the man
who nearly tripped over them on his way down to the exit door. “I’m
just explaining to one of my new characterization protégés here the
idea of the emotional plane.”
     
    He was as cool as he’d been in class, not one
wave of hair or piece of clothing out of place. Trisha felt as
though her face was smeared with lip gloss and her bangs were
ruffled like a hyper chicken’s feathers. She smiled awkwardly at
Aaron DuVeigne, whom she knew was a long-time professor at
Melville, and was known for getting his favorite students auditions
in Boston and occasionally in New York City. Her heart had leapt
into her throat and was throbbing there.
     
    “I see,” said Professor DuVeigne, as he
carefully danced between them to continue down the stairs. Doubt
played around his lips, ruffling his silver moustache. “Is this
some contemporary approach I don’t know about?”
     
    Rusty’s grin fell a little. “Pardon me, sir?
I mean, you know, the