Fall with Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 2) Read online

  “Calling your boss ‘draconian’ probably didn’t help.” I leaned back in my seat, smiling at the fire in her eyes. “Although the general consensus at Hut’s is that you called her a dragon.”

  She blinked, stunned into silence.

  “A dragon?” she finally croaked, her shoulders quaking with wry laughter as she looked down. “Well, that figures.”

  All that jiggling drew my gaze straight to her breasts. Even if Melody was a haughty brat, she was a haughty brat with nice tits.

  Scowl firmly in place, I adjusted myself before she looked up. But I needn’t have bothered. One look at that cold gaze and my balls shriveled.

  “Well, like I said, I don’t deal well with stupid,” she chirped, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”

  She smiled a totally fake, sweeter than sweet smile, then trotted away toward the stacks.

  I stared after her, watching her hips sway.

  Fuck me, the girl was rude. And hot. Hot, rude, and obviously smart, since she disappeared into the dusty heap of books that made up the biochemistry section of the library.

  Too unnerved to concentrate on Einstein’s theory of relativity, I ripped a hand through my hair. That damn girl ruined my book buzz. And called me stupid.

  Slamming my text shut, I pushed to my feet and then took off for the archives.

  I found Mel sitting cross-legged on the floor amid a pile of books and notes.

  She looked up at me and rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”

  I was about to reply when I caught a view of her tantalizing cleavage. Those, I thought to myself.

  For some reason—probably because I’d yet to tear my gaze from the firm, round globes beneath her blouse—the sixteenth letter of the Greek alphabet jumped into my head. Pi—the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its diameter.

  Before I embarrassed myself reciting the most rudimentary mathematical constant known to man, I thrust the book on Einstein’s theory at her.

  “I’m reading a book on the theory of relativity, I’ll have you know.”

  My less than witty retort earned me a smile. And a mocking one at that.

  Dropping back on her palms, Mel primly crossed her legs at the ankle, appraising me.

  “So, I’m assuming you’re here because you got stumped on one of the big words?” She arched a perfect brow. “I’m a little busy. But the librarian has a science dictionary.” Pointing in the direction of Mrs. Thatcher’s desk, she added, “It’s the big book with words you can’t pronounce. Just point and grunt—she’ll probably get the picture.”

  “You’re a presumptuous little thing, aren’t you?” She didn’t answer so I crouched to examine her pile of books. “What’s all this for, anyway?”

  “Busy here,” she muttered, her eyes darting from her textbook to the notepad on her knee.

  Ignoring her subtle—scratch that—blatant, attempt to get rid of me, I smiled when I came across a copy of Genetic Manipulation of the Nervous System.

  Close enough.

  I tapped her leg with the corner of the book. When she lifted her annoyed gaze, I looked deeply into her green irises.

  Before I got lost in the depths, or that damn sweet scent of hers, I said, “Did you know that only two percent of the population has green eyes?”

  Thoroughly unimpressed, her lip quirked. “Good to know. If you’re done regaling me with generic information—“

  “Generic? I don’t think so.” Placing the heavy text back on the pile, I continued, “The field of study is still evolving. It’s only recently come to light that there are about fifteen genes responsible for determining eye color.”

  That fake ass smile tilted her lips once again. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to name any of those pesky genes, would you?”

  Mel wrinkled her nose in the most adorable way as she issued the challenge. Which was going to make stomping her ass all that much more satisfying.

  The first rule of thumb when you’re about to pose an argument: never ask a question if you’re unsure of the answer. Guess they didn’t teach her that in chem class.

  I blew out a breath as if contemplating. But the only thing I really wondered was what color steam would come out of her ears when I was finished.

  “Well,” I drawled. “I don’t have time to name them all, but the OCA2 and the HER2 are the most common. The appearance of blue, green, or hazel eyes results from the Tyndall scattering of light in the stroma.” Her lips parted, and I gave her a mock frown. “You do know what the stroma is, right? That pesky fibro vascular layer of tissue behind—” Shaking my head, I sighed. “Never mind, it’s too complicated to explain right now. Let’s start with something simpler—like brown eyes. That’s pretty easy. The shade of brown in the eyes is directly related to the melanin in the—“

  Jumping to her feet, Mel glared down at me. Her gaze followed mine as I stood. Since I had almost a foot on the girl, she was now glaring up at me, but the stone cold expression never changed.

  “I know what the determinates of brown eyes are, thank you very much,” she spluttered through clenched teeth.

  “Sure you do.” Lowering my tone, I winked. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell any of your buddies that I stumped you with an explanation of the iris pigment epithelium.”

  If Mel’s lack of verbal skills was any indication, she was even more enraged. Good. One last dig and my work here would be done.

  Enunciating slowly, I leaned in to make my point. “The epithelium is in the back of the iris, in case you were wondering.” I glanced over the books and notes at our feet. “You’ve obviously got some studying to do, so I’ll let you get back to it.”

  I knew damn well she probably could recite everything I told her in her sleep. The fact that she assumed I didn’t know any of it is what bothered me.

  I took a step back, my smile dissolving when her hand shot out to fist my t-shirt. For a second I thought she might hit me. Instead, she rose to the balls of her feet.

  The last thing I saw before her mouth crashed into mine was the fire flashing in her jade green eyes. And then there was nothing but the sweet taste of her lips, and the cinnamon and autumn scent that surrounded her.

  Deepening the kiss, Mel slid her tongue over mine, stroking gently.

  If this was her way of winning an argument, I was all for it.

  Nudging her against the bookcase, one hand disappeared in her hair. And the other? It was everywhere.

  My name in the distance forced my attention to the end of the aisle. I blinked at Mrs. Thatcher, frozen in her spot with her palm molded to her hip. Her gaze fell slowly to my wandering hand that had somehow found a home on Mel’s ass.

  “Allow me to repeat myself since you didn’t hear me calling your name, Christian,” the librarian said brusquely. “I got that book you wanted on the Fender bass.”

  Mrs. Thatcher then turned a speculative eye on the girl still trapped in my arms.

  “Melody, you know better than this,” she admonished. “I have no problem verifying your research hours for Professor Riser, but if you’re planning on researching your own anatomy, you need to do it on your own time.”

  Stepping in front of the little spitfire to keep her from getting us kicked out, I said, “We were just—“

  “I know what y’all were doing,” Mrs. Thatcher interjected. “You just can’t do it here.”

  Gripping my bicep, Mel stepped around me.

  “I-I’m sorry, Mrs. Thatcher,” she said, employing a soft tone I didn’t think she possessed. “I was just…my boyfriend came by to see me and…” Stammering, her cheeks brightened to the color of ripe tomatoes. “We were just…leaving.”

  Falling to her knees, Mel hastily gathered her things. She shoved a book in my hand, which I accepted without question, then crammed the rest of her notes into her backpack.

  Curling my hand around her arm when she finished, I helped her to her feet.

  Mel swallowed hard, shifting nervous
ly as she addressed Mrs. Thatcher with a tight smile. “If you wouldn’t mind not mentioning this to Professor Riser, I’d really appreciate it.”

  A smile ghosted the librarian’s lips as she folded her arms over her chest. “That’ll cost you an hour of reading to the kids in the daycare center to make up your time. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Melody’s shoulders sank in what I assume was relief. “Thank you, Mrs. Thatcher.”

  Stiff as a statue, Mel didn’t look at me until the librarian’s footfalls were out of earshot.

  “Give me my book,” she growled.

  I chuckled at her attempt at a fierce glare. “Boyfriend, huh?”

  “Obviously, that was for Mrs. Thatcher’s benefit. I already lost one job; I can’t afford to have my professor questioning my research hours.”

  I tucked her text under my arm. “Are you researching genetics?”

  Shifting her fiery gaze to the book I was holding for ransom, she pondered her response for a long moment. My smile more or less assured she wouldn’t get what she wanted until she answered my question.

  She closed the distance between us, her hot breath tickling the hollow of my neck. I thought she might kiss me again—which I was totally down for—so I relaxed.

  Big mistake.

  Her greedy fingers shot out and snatched the text before I could react. Studying me with an unreadable expression, she held the book like a shield to ward off my advances. Which was funny as hell since she was the one who kissed me.

  Composing herself, she took a step back and then sighed. “At the moment I’m concentrating on proteins.” She offered a curt smile, all business. “I’m a Beckman Scholar, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of studying to do.”

  Swooping her backpack from the floor before she had the chance, I nearly fell over from the weight of the damn thing.

  “There’s really no excuse for you, sweetheart,” I deadpanned.

  Sweetheart? I wasn’t sure if she had a heart—sweet or otherwise. But she damn sure tasted sweet. Cherry lip balm lingered on my lips from the searing kiss, the memory of her velvet tongue sending a tingle to the base of my spine.

  Seizing the moment, and her blessed silence, I slid my hand into hers. “You’re rude, arrogant, and presumptuous, just like I said. But you’re also kind of cute. So I guess I’ll let you buy me a cup of coffee and tell me all about your research.”

  Chapter Three

  Waving the fondue fork over the vegetables in the tiny bowls, I smirked at Mel. “Keep 'em closed.”

  We’d been playing this game since we arrived at the Melting Pot, the fondue joint we finally agreed on for dinner.

  Agreed being the operative word. I’m sure it was easier negotiating the Treaty of Versailles. And once we’d arrived, prying any personal information out of Mel was a battle unto itself. So I issued a challenge: if she guessed the right blend of cheese and the vegetable or meat, I’d answer any question she posed. And vice versa.

  Mel took a sip of her iced tea, rolling her eyes. “Try not to burn me this time, okay?”

  “Didn’t your mama ever teach you to blow on something hot before you put it in your mouth?”

  Her gaze turned wistful and she shook her head. “Must’ve missed that lesson.”

  I paused, my foot finding hers under the table. I’d known the girl for less than a minute, but I could tell that the comment hit a nerve. Why I cared, I didn’t know.

  Breaking the awkward silence, her lids fluttered closed. “Do your best,” she said with a sigh.

  Watching Mel while I skewered a piece of broccoli, I dipped it in the Alpine cheese mix. She looked so fucking cute with her mouth open and that pink little tongue sticking out.

  “Okay…try this.” I blew the steam off the morsel before lifting the fork to her lips.

  A smile curved her mouth at the gesture. “You didn’t have to do that. I can blow myself.”

  All the blood rushed from my head and the utensil slipped from my grasp, splattering cheese everywhere.

  “Shit. Mel…I’m sorry.”

  Grabbing my napkin, I reached across the table. My hand landed on her breast as I tried to clean the goopy mess.

  Her eyes widened, either from my groping or the stain spreading across her blouse.

  “Give me that.” Snatching the checkered cloth, she glared at me. “What are you, sixteen? Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m a woman. I can’t possibly blow myself.”

  Mel was crazy if she thought that’s where my mind went. It was her pouty lips wrapped around my dick that had me squirming in my seat.

  What the hell? I wasn’t that guy. Maybe Logan was rubbing off on me.

  Banishing the thought, I averted my gaze while Mel cleaned up. When I turned back, spotting the outline of her nipple peeking through the fabric where the oily glob had been, my mouth went dry.

  Kill me now.

  “You’re the one with your mind in the gutter,” I lied, my eyes glued to her face. “The fork slipped.”

  I almost forgot about our little game until she picked up the chunk of broccoli. She examined the tidbit thoroughly before popping it into her mouth.

  “Broccoli and Alpine.” She smiled as she chewed. “I win.”

  The chick was competitive in a way that usually turned me off. But anything that came out of that smartass mouth had the opposite effect.

  Lacing my fingers behind my head, I reclined in the booth. “Fine. Ask away.” I smiled coyly. “Anything goes.”

  Pondering, her eyes drifted to the window in the front of the restaurant where my brand new Ford F250 truck sat parked next to her old Jeep.

  “What’s it like to get everything you ever dreamed of?”

  Locked in her gaze, I brushed my thumb over a spot of cheese clinging to her cheek.

  “What makes you think I get everything I want?” Unable to pull away, my hand lingered on her smooth skin. “Nobody gets everything they want, angel.”

  I realized I’d been had when her lips quirked.

  “So you're not going to answer?” Her smile turned triumphant. “Cool, I win again. Close your eyes—my turn.”

  Contemplating her next choice, her fork hovered over the half-empty melting pot.

  “There’s no way to answer that question,” I groused, but did as she asked. “So, you didn’t really win.”

  Humming to herself, she slipped a piece of food between my lips.

  “Shit!” I spit the wad in my napkin. “What the fuck was that?”

  The picture of innocence, Mel blinked at me. “If you can’t guess, then technically…”

  “I lose, right?” I grabbed her legs under the table and she yelped. “That was dark chocolate and cheddar cheese on sourdough.” I swallowed hard at the aftertaste. “So, I didn’t lose…and this question is going to be a doozy.”

  Leaning back, she kept her knees between my legs. “Shoot.”

  “What kind of protein are you studying and why?”

  Mel’s smile fell away. “That’s two questions.”

  “Okay…what kind of protein are you studying?”

  When the waiter appeared at out table to fill our glasses, Mel sealed her lips tight, her knees bobbing steadily.

  Watching his retreating back, she said quietly, “Right now I’m concentrating on Tau protein.”

  Keeping up on the latest medical technology was a secret passion of mine, but the name was unfamiliar. “Tau?”

  Nodding, she reached for her glass of iced tea. Her eyes widened as she took a swallow. Searching the room, she zeroed in on our waiter.

  Confused, I squeezed her leg. “Mel, what is it?”

  Ignoring my question, she called the kid over. He scurried to the table, his mouth falling into a frown at Mel’s scornful expression.

  “Is this sweet tea?” she demanded, tension lines etching the corners of her mouth.

  “I believe so,“ the server stammered. “I—“

  “Take it,” she snapped. “I ordered unsweetened.” So
ftening her tone at his stunned expression, she handed him the glass. “Please…if you wouldn’t mind.”

  I waited until the kid scrambled for the kitchen to say, “Easy there, guns. It’s just a little sugar.”

  Her brows drew together. “Sugar kills.”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit?”

  She lifted a shoulder and stared into her lap. “Maybe,” she said softly.

  Mumbling an apology when the waiter returned, Mel didn’t look up until he left.

  “Sorry about that,” she said to me sheepishly. “Free question—anything you want to know.”

  I raised a brow. “Anything?”

  Nodding, her lip disappeared between her teeth as my hand slid higher on her leg.

  “Eggs or pancakes?”

  She cocked her head. “You mean…in general?”

  “I mean specifically.” Tracing circles on her jean-clad thigh with my thumb, I smiled. “I’d really like to know what you want me to make you for breakfast in the morning.”

  Chapter Four

  Pinning Mel to the cinder block wall in her tiny living room, I kissed her deeply, my fingers creeping under the hem of her blouse. She sighed, the back of her head bumping against the concrete as I palmed her breast.

  “Fuck…sorry.” My hand disappeared into her blond locks, searching for a lump. “Are you all right?”

  The girl had me so revved up I was ready to take her right here, inches from her front door.

  Resting her hand on my chest, she laughed softly. “No permanent damage. I’ve got a hard head.”

  Mel was hardheaded, all right. And smart. Not to mention sexy as hell.

  She slipped out of my arms, heading for the kitchen before I could devour her mouth again. I bit my lip when she ducked her head into the fridge, wiggling her ass as she poked around.

  “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got water and…” She walked back with two bottles of Dasani. “Water.”

  “Water’s fine.”

  Twisting the cap off the bottle, I looked around the tiny apartment. Mel’s place was as bare bones as it got. Campus housing with concrete walls and worn carpet. Her entire kitchen would fit nicely in the guest bathroom at my house.