A Subtle Flame

Part 6

CHAPTER FIVE

 Cressida clenched a strong fist and rapped determinedly on the door.  She breathed in and out slowly, trying to concentrate her mind on the task ahead.  She thought Dr Lesley had seemed like an approachable person at the staff meeting, if perhaps a bit stressed.  Surely the two of them could come up with something to help Charlie?

            She waited patiently for the words 'come in!' or for the door to fly open, but ... nothing.  Cressida lowered her head closer to the door, her ear only inches from the wood, and raised her fist to thump again.  That was the problem with thick wood doors, she sighed to herself.  Not only did they help to shut out the noise from the corridor, they also made it extremely difficult to hear any noise from inside, even when the corridor was deserted.

            "Cressida."  She jumped at the voice behind her.  "You won't hear anything juicy in there," Davis told her sternly.  "Better try Peebles's office.  They say he talks to his pot plants."  A mischievous smile accentuated the lines on his lightly tanned face.

            "I wasn't!"  Cressida indignant look dissolved into a husky laugh.  "And you know it."  That was the second time he had startled her in as many days.  If it had been Christian she would have heard his shiny leather shoes squeaking from the other end of the corridor.  But in his black trainers, Davis had once again approached her silently, like a prowling wild cat.

            Such a beautiful laugh, Davis mused.  Low and throaty, with a promise of intimate sensuality which betrayed the serious clothes she wore that day.  Cressida was clearly dressed for business.  Her luxurious auburn curls had been pinned up, a dark grey jacket and skirt hugged her slim figure, and her suede boots had been discarded in favour of low-heeled pumps.  The intention was no doubt to present a responsible, sensible woman, but all Davis could think about was the pleasure of releasing her from the hair pins and clothes and teasing that laugh from her again as she lay in his arms. 

"I just saw Alison talking with a student down the corridor," Davis said.  Cressida frowned before realizing that he was talking about Dr Lesley.  It was strange how it seemed natural to use the first-names of some lecturers – the faculty encouraged it amongst the research students to give the impression of a convivial atmosphere – but not others.  Cressida could not think of Dr Lesley as an Alison.  It did not seem to match her stern character.

"... she'll probably be along in a minute," Davis went on.  "I hope you're still coming over to mine this evening?"  Davis approached her, his lips curved into a rakish smile.  "We have unfinished business, Cressida."  His voice was deep and sensual.

"Slave driver," Cressida accused him.  "Can't you think about anything apart from that blessed web-site?"

"You know that's not what I meant," he growled, and stepped closer to her until there was only a few inches between them.  Cressida lifted her face up expectantly, anticipating the brush of his lips against her own, or the feel of his hands on her hips or shoulders, but he made no move to reach for her.

Show him you want this, Cressida encouraged herself.  Show him you trust him.  "Davis," she began, her voice no more than a whisper, and she reached out to lay a hand on his chest.  She could feel the soft heat of his skin through the cotton, and she curled her fingers into the material, urging him closer.

Dammit, Cressida, Davis groaned silently.  I'm trying so hard to protect you, and you're driving me mad.  Don't torment me with such a sultry look, can't you tell how much I want to taste your delicious lips again? 

"My next seminar isn't until midday," he murmured breathlessly as Cressida's fingertips encountered the gap between his shirt buttons and teased the soft hairs on his chest.  "Come to my office, and we can lock the door on the rest of the world."