“SUGARY SWEET AND SO SO DIRTY.”

To anyone looking on we appear to be the student and dean having a simple conversation. The man can erase the tiniest drop of emotion from his voice on the warmest of days.

He and my mother are the perfect fit the rigid scientist and her impeccable career and my father’s razor-edged, his way or no way approach to life.

Note to self: Take the back way to the library from now on. My brow furrows as I watch Mr. Frost himself walk away.

I touch the snowflake charm on my bracelet and remind myself some people are shitty because they choose to be. Cold-heartedness is by choice, not inherited. I drop my hand, noticing my watch.

“Shit.” After hurrying for the library, I push through the door and weave down the aisles. It’s a massive building with row after row of books on every topic under the sun.

Seriously, there’s no end to how many books this place houses. It’s one of the main reasons I applied for my bachelor’s in computer science at Westmoore.

The library. I get lost in here in the back rows where no one ever ventures among all the dusty books.

Back here is the quietest and my happy place for the most part. After a little hassling, the administration finally agreed to pull together a sitting area for study groups.

Today it’s all mine. Only a few among fellow coders know about it and they’re all gone on break. I slip down the stairs and take a left under an archway and into a dark section, the hidden lounge area just past another row of books.

A large body crashes into me. Or rather I crash into it. Either way I yelp, stumbling back into another wall that has similar arms and impeccable pecs beneath my palms.

“Oh, crap.” I jerk my hands back with a gasp, unable to get a clear view of either man, I guess. I mean, unless Thor is back here, that is.

My heart races and adrenaline hammers through my veins.

“I, um, sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Like at all.

Why don’t they ever have the damn light on in this section of the library?

“Ms. Angelo.” Slowly my eyes adjust at the sound of my maiden name, but I don’t need my eyes to recognize the voice to go along with that baritone.

“Professor Preston.” I legally go by my maiden name. A change my parents insisted on. Crap.

“Ms. Angelo, what are you doing back here and all by yourself this late in the evening?” Touché.

“Professor Black?”

Double crap. My whole world frays along the edges and I stumble over my lump of a tongue and inability to keep my mind from hitting the gutter the second his masculine scent wraps around my brain.

I swallow back my nerves. Or at least I try. It is hard when I can’t control my breathing nor my thudding heart.

Damn it. I am supposed to have two weeks. I need the buffer time to get my body under control for the next time I saw them.

My breath catches and I have to quickly shake my brain. They don’t know who I am. They don’t know the girl under the Queen Frost outfit and ice blue mask was me.

No Names, no pressure, I remind myself. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I come to see a hard jawline and a brooding scowl in front of me.

Dark Eyes, or Professor Erik Black, stands back, eyes on mine, watching.

“Hey. Umm...I thought this part of the library was empty. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all. You’re right on time.” Professor Preston steps closer. I breathe deeply, holding the air in my lungs at the sheer size of him dwarfing me. I want so badly to run my hands up his chest again.

To feel the slabs of all those muscles under my hands. Tied up in my own thoughts, his words don’t register until a couple of seconds later.

“On time?” Is that my heart rate or theirs I’m hearing like a herd of horses?

“Yes, sweetheart,” Professor Preston husks darkly. Though the partial darkness hides it, I blush fiercely.

They are both alternating between answering, keeping me off balance and if I had my libido under better control the games would piss me off.

I shift my head and raise my eyes to Preston’s, keeping my fingers firmly around the strap of my bag instead of on him where I’d like them. Professor Black moves to my right and suddenly It’s New Year’s Eve all over again.

They have me pinned with no way out, only this time it’s a bookshelf at my back instead of a bed. There’s a piece missing though. Him. Professor Thurston.

Whiskey Eyes. Professor Black strokes a warm, gentle finger across my cheek and over my bottom lip. I shiver; every muscle in my body clenching to feel more of him in other parts.

Reading my body language or just really good at seducing women, he knows how much they both affect me. He places a hand on the shelf above my head, leans his large body over me and I’m frozen in place when his lips find mine in a slow, burning kiss.

“Just as perfect as I remember. Smooth, soft. Delicious.” His smile deepens, arrogance pulling at the corners when he breaks away.

“Sugary sweet and so so dirty.” My eyes go wide, heart pounding wildly. His eyes narrow on me.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember, sweetheart.” I do.

“Remember what?” Play dumb. Keep cool.

“Did you notice the glitter in her hair, man? Silver and purple. Remind you of something?”

Shit. He’s right. I’ve washed four times, but it’s like I haven’t washed it at all. Someone at the party thought a glitter bomb would be a great idea. Fuckers.

When I tried for my stealthy escape out the side patio door, I ran straight through a cloud of silver and dark purple glitter that oddly matched Professor Preston’s mask.

“Where have we seen these shades of glitter before?”

“A party. Have you been to a party recently, Jemma? Do you have it in you to get a little wild?” I roll my eyes.

“I’ve been to a lot of places.” Heart racing, body tingling, neither of them buy the half shrug I give.

Both of them laugh and the crisp, white tailored shirts stretched over rippling muscle crease and give with the movement of their light laughing.

They’ve both popped the top two buttons at the neck and I know if they were to roll up the sleeves, I’d find muscled arms underneath. It’s when they both grow silent again that I start to worry.

“Maybe you need a better reminder. What do you think?” Preston’s voice is deep, rich and spoken so low I have to strain to hear.

Before I can gasp in a lungful of air, he takes my chin in hand and it’s his mouth claiming mine this time.

His possessive, take all or nothing approach sends a wave of heat through my body and I know the strip of cloth between my legs is soaked through.

If either man touches me, they’d find me wet and ready. I moan when Preston’s tongue pushes against my lips and he takes my mouth in a rough, heated kiss.

Just like the first time. How could I ever forget? God, what was happening here? My jaw drops the second he pulls away to stare down at me.

“I think you have me confused with someone else,” I say meekly. My words come out shaky at best, terrified at worst.

Because the part of my brain still operating says the mathematics of my current situation means only one thing. They know. Air comes in short supply suddenly.

Professor Black chuckles and it’s a gravelly sound that shoots my blood pressure through the roof right along with my need to feel his tongue on my nipples.

He drops one of his hands to my stomach and slowly works his way to the edge of my uniform. I didn’t want to go home before work so I dressed in this lousy thing.

Now I’m suddenly grateful for the lack of light. He growls at the way I buck against his hand. My skin prickles as he slides farther up my thigh.

I wish I could say I don’t moan, gasp and clutch his hand to me the second I feel his fingers slide my wet panties to the side, but I’d rather not lie. I do all those things and more.