Rescue Me: An MM romance (A Bennet Family Novel) Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Andi Jaxon

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address:

  [email protected]

  Cover design by Andi Jaxon

  Edited by Jenny Dillion with Prose Editing

  Proofed by Jess Rousseau with Elemental Editing & Proofreading and Emma Mack with Ultra Editing Co

  www.andijaxon.com

  Dedication

  This book is for anyone who has ever thought they are unlovable. Your person is out there somewhere, don’t give up.

  My subconscious wanted him even when logic said I shouldn't.

  Rejected, abused, and abandoned, all I’ve ever wanted was to be accepted, loved even. I thought going to college on a scholarship would be my ticket out of hell, but nothing good ever comes without a price.

  Desperation fuels me and a rash decision changes the course of my life. Everything I’ve ever wanted is within reach. Like a moth to a flame, my soul screams for him, but the horrors of my past hold me hostage.

  Can I trust my mangled heart in his perfect life when my past repeats itself or will he destroy what is left of me?

  Chapter 1

  Alister –

  Since starting here at Seattle Pacific University four years ago, the percentage of students taking Calculus has gone up twenty percent, most of which are female. For any university, it’s a major increase, especially for a male-dominated subject. I wish I could say it was all because of my amazing teaching style, but in reality, it’s the way my ass fills out a pair of jeans. Female students flock to my classes, and lines of fawning young women clog up the hallway during my office hours.

  My shapely ass may have been what brought them in, but my teaching skills get most to pass. I take a lot of pride in my passing rates, teaching young adults to understand mathematics and its beauty gives my life meaning. When the light goes on in the head of a struggling student, the pieces click together, and I’m high on life.

  Working at a Christian university isn’t the finest idea for a gay man, but since I’m unattached, and plan to keep it that way for a while, it’s not a big deal. Sure, I’ve dated, I’m no blushing virgin, but it’s always been casual friends who engage in sex. Someday I want the emotional connection my parents have. They are the best example that I can think of, of a happy and healthy marriage, living with them instilled the idea into my twin brother and me of wanting a relationship like theirs.

  I live close to campus, walk everywhere I’m able to, and hit the gym a few times a week to make sure I take care of myself. I’m not afraid to say I think I’m attractive and well dressed, I’m not overly cocky, I have the self-confidence my mother ingrained in me. At this point in my career, I don’t care what brings the students in, as long as they learn something.

  I walk the fifteen minutes to campus to prepare for the first day of the semester, because I’m excited like I always am. Colorful foliage and lush trees always brings a smile to my face. It’s beautiful here. Classic brick buildings with a modern flair brings this small university its own personality. Students crowd brick pathways, both new and returning, as they meet friends and find where their classes are. The first week is always invigorating, especially during the fall semester, it’s a new year, and everyone is full of hope. Will my classes be kids fresh out of high school, eager to learn, or a group of students who have been putting off math for years and no longer remember any algebra? Both come with their advantages and disadvantages. Younger kids tend to screw around on their phones and want to argue failing grades, while the older students are desperate to pass.

  In early September, the air is crisp here in Western Washington, and the wind coming off Lake Union is making it colder. The leaves are starting to turn yellow, orange, and red, the sunset is getting earlier, and the rain is returning. It’s almost time for scarves, beanies, and hot soup.

  “Morning ladies,” I tell the staff in the copying office, smiling at my favorite person on campus.

  “Alister, my future ex-husband, I’ve got your copies right here, love,” Darla, the supervisor, says when she sees me. She’s a great lady, always ready to laugh but never takes crap from anyone. She’s on the short side, graying, and pushing sixty. Her grandkids are her life, and though she’s been married half a dozen times, she doesn’t seem to dwell on her divorces. She’s also a shameless flirt, gives the best hugs, and is the best person to have in your corner during a fight.

  “Good morning, Mr. Bennet,” a young student worker says, a blush on her cheeks, her voice barely more than a whisper. I give the girl a smile and a wink when I see Darla heading my way with a stack of papers.

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head behind the girl. “If you’re winking at anyone, it had better be me. Don’t tell me you’re straying away from me already?” she teases, with a laugh sparkling in her eyes.

  “I would be the luckiest man in the world to come home to you every night.” She hands me the papers and I kiss her cheek. “Until next time.” With a smile on my face and a bounce in my step, I head to my office to get situated. As I walk down the hallway, my shoes clacking against the polished hardwood floors, I notice someone sits outside my office door. Someone in dark jeans, ripped at the knees, well-worn converse, and a black hoodie pulled over their head, hiding their face. Upon hearing my approach, they turn and pierce me with deep pools of onyx. My breathing halts as if the oxygen was sucked from the room.

  He’s out of place here among the halls of this university. He’s darker than most of the students here, not his skin color or clothes, but him. His eyes tell a story of pain, a story I want to know so that I can soothe his broken and bleeding soul. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like this and I can’t look away. I don’t know what this young man has been through, but I suddenly want to be his safe harbor during the storm.

  He rushes to stand once he sees me approaching, a few inches shorter than my 6’2” height, on the scrawny side, and with a warm complexion. He’s nervous but trying not to show it, chewing on his thick lower lip is a dead giveaway though. I need to tell him it’s okay, I don’t bite, but I doubt it would go over well. Why do I want to reach out and hug him? I’m not a big touchy-feely kind of guy, but I crave to touch him. I’ve never been attracted to a student before, but this one has a magnetism I can’t ignore. I clear my throat and offer him a smile he doesn’t return.

  Chapter 2

  Ben –

  The click-clack of shoes on the wood floor alerts me to someone approaching, I glance up and see him. Alister Bennet. Calculus teacher and the man starring in my dreams. He’s temptation in human form and everything I can’t have. His black hair is short on the sides with a good few inches on top to twist my fingers in, he has a scruffy black beard, and his bright eyes make his olive skin look impossibly soft. My fingers itch to run through his hair and my lips tingle at the thought of his facial hair prickling my skin as he kisses me.

  His movements are confident, almost cocky, completely sure of with who he is. As if life is a dance he already knows the steps to. I can’t stop the images flashing in my head of him fucking a girl beneath him, mindless with pleasure at his expertise, the way his hips and ass flex as he thrusts, giving as much pleasure as he’s taking. I’m not attracted to girls, but the image makes my dic
k twitch. Everything about him makes my dick twitch, if I’m being honest. I shouldn’t be attracted to him, it's wrong.

  His broad chest is always on display in his well-fitted, button-up shirts, the top two or three buttons open at the throat to show the muscles and soft, dark hair. Every part of him is ripped with muscle: forearms, shoulders, thighs, ass. His jeans look like they were made just for him, how I wish I could slide my hands into his back pockets to grip his ass and press myself against him. His eyes meet mine when they look up at him, and I know he’s seeing the torn, ragged edges of my soul. My normal wall, the mask I show the world to keep it out, is defenseless against him. His mere presence strips me bare.

  Scrambling to my feet, I stand as he approaches his office, standing off to one side, making myself seem as small as possible in an attempt to fade into the background. It’s the first day of classes, and I’m already panicking. Calculus is just not my thing. If I can’t pass this class, I won’t graduate. If I don’t graduate, I have no money for classes next term. My scholarship runs out this term, I have to finish.

  Leather satchel over his shoulder, a stack of papers in one hand and keys in the other, he clears his throat and smiles at me as he approaches the door. The warm smile wraps around my heart, melting the ice in my chest I use for protection.

  “I wasn’t expecting any students this early. If you could give me a second to get settled, I would be happy to talk to you.” Perfectly straight white teeth show between his lips when he speaks to me.

  “No problem, sorry to bother you,” I mumble, not even sure he heard me.

  Setting his papers on the desk and his bag to the side, he turns on his computer and has a seat. His distraction gives me time to look around the small space from the doorway. He didn’t invite me in, and I know better than to enter a space I’m not invited in to, he doesn’t want my perversion to taint the sanctity of his office.

  A corkboard with pictures I can’t make out is behind his desk, along with a bookshelf full of math books. The window next to his desk gives him a magnificent view of campus, with brick buildings, green grass, colorful trees, and the Cascade Mountains on a cloudless day. Everything is tidy and in order. The space is tiny but comfortable and smells spicy like cinnamon, nutmeg, and a hint of something rugged.

  Seeing me standing in the doorway, he looks surprised to see me in the hallway. “Would you like to come in?”

  Stepping over the boundary into his office feels like a big deal, looking at the floor, I’m not sure I can force my feet to move. My dirty, almost worn through the sole Converse, might leave marks on his carpet.

  In a flash, I’m back in Dan’s house, desperately pleading not to get beaten again. It was raining, and my shoes were muddy from the walk from the bus stop, something I noticed once I had walked onto the carpet. At ten years old, I was begging for mercy from a man incapable of showing any.

  A clearing of his throat shakes the memory free, but the fear remains. Sneaking a glance at him, he’s still watching me closely. I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have come here to talk to him, I knew it was a mistake. “Nah, I’m good right here.” Leaning against the doorjamb, so I don’t have to enter. I can’t look at him yet, since my face is hot from the embarrassment of not being able to come into a room. I’m such a freak.

  “Okay, what brings you to my office on the first day, two hours before I teach my first class?” His voice has my eyes lifting to his. He’s trying to keep the mood lighter, making a joke and lifting his lips in a sexy smirk. I can’t breathe, much less think, when that smirk is directed at me.

  “I’m going to fail,” blurts out of my mouth before my brain has a chance to stop it. He gets a little crease between his eyebrows, his smile drops, and his head tilts to the side. Studying me once again, his lips pursed.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ben Wallace,” I answer automatically.

  “How old are you, Ben?”

  “Twenty-three.” What does my age have to do with anything?

  A smile returns to his plump lips, and I find myself sucking on my own, imagining what he tastes like.

  “You must be about ready to graduate. Is that what you’re afraid of? Not graduating on time?”

  I’m still standing awkwardly in his office doorway, the guest chair sitting empty in front of me. I’ve seen him on campus numerous times and have been daydreaming about him ever since. I can’t believe I’m standing here, talking to him, so close I can almost touch him. God, do I want to touch him. Shit, what did he say?

  “Ben? Why don’t you sit down?” Shaking my head to clear it, I take the few steps in and sit on the edge of the seat, too busy thinking about his lips on mine to realize what I’ve done.

  “Could you tutor me? After classes, I could come here, to your office?”

  Could I be any more awkward? What the hell is wrong with me?

  “I’m happy to help clear things up during office hours, and there are tutors available, math labs you can go to if you feel you need extra help.” The crease has returned between his eyebrows, I need to get out of here.

  “Never mind, I’ll see you around, Teach.” Grabbing my bag outside the door, I keep moving down the hallway and out of the building until I can’t hear him calling my name anymore. I love the way he says my name, how his lips look when he says it. I need to stay away from him, or I will end up throwing myself at him and heartbroken when he turns me down. I’m an idiot for lusting after a teacher, especially a straight one.

  Chapter 3

  Alister –

  I want to help him, Ben. I could sense his anxiety over not passing my class. He tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but the anxiety was there, plain as day. I wanted to reassure him, cover his hand with mine, tell him everything would be okay. He’s most likely on a scholarship, and if he fails a class, he loses it.

  Leaning over my chair to stretch my back, I force myself to focus on my upcoming class. Looking over the roster, half of the names appear female, and I’m betting half of those won’t stick around.

  Turning on the Keurig, I make myself a cup of dark roast coffee. The scent is waking me up as much as the caffeine when it hits my system. Coffee is a way of life here, and there are Starbucks and espresso stands on most street corners. Over the years I’ve grown to enjoy the bitter brew, I can’t start a day without a cup, and I end up drinking it all day long.

  Noticing the time, I grab my cup and syllabi, and head to my first class of the semester. How much time did I spend thinking about my visitor? What is it about him that’s so intriguing? We barely spoke to each other and it wasn’t much of a conversation. I know nothing more than his name and age, but I want to have a real conversation with him. I’ve dated, I’m not a recluse, but I’ve never reacted to someone like this. It’s terrifying and exciting, and completely inappropriate. I need to stay away from him. Clearing my thoughts of Ben, I focus on my upcoming class.

  Excitement hums through me. I’m not afraid to be excited about math. I’m a full fledge math nerd and proud of it. Already, there are students around the hall waiting for me to open the door. This class looks like mostly first-year students, which is good. It’s less time I have to spend going over material they should already know.

  Everyone starts filing in once the door is open and someone turns the lights on. My early morning visitor, Ben, keeps his head down as he finds a seat in the middle of the room. I find I’m a little disappointed when he doesn’t look at me, since I want those pitch-black eyes on me again. I don’t understand why I’m disappointed. I’ve never been one to need attention. He’s a student, any feelings I have for him are completely inappropriate. My body reacts to his nearness anyway, and I struggle to keep my blood from pooling below my waist. These pants are snug and there’s no way to hide a damn hard-on. With things like ‘dick prints’ popping up on social media, I need to get my mind on track for class.

  Class begins and I introduce myself, before passing out the necessary paperwork
. Taking attendance, I pause a moment when I come to his name, Ben Wallace. Like so many others, he’s just trying to survive. Just get through this class and be one step closer to graduation.

  “Benjamin Wallace?” His name rolls off my tongue like a lover. Finally, his head lifts, the ebony pools sucking me in from across the room.

  “Ben.”

  I nod my head at the correction and force my eyes from his. I have never wanted to cross the line between teacher and student before, but something about him makes me want to throw caution to the wind and say, “fuck it.” It’s going to be an exceptionally long term keeping my hands to myself. I hope he’s able to find a tutor, so I’m not cramped in my very small office with him very often. I foresee a lot of time spent with my right hand over the next few weeks, cumming to the image of that boy on his knees looking up at me, on his back with his head thrown back in ecstasy, on his hands and knees offering up his ass.

  Giving myself a shake, I continue with attendance and get started.

  “I’m glad you’re all here, welcome to Calculus I.” I force a smile and hope it looks comforting instead of predatory, which is how I’m feeling at the moment. The female population in the class swoons, so it must be alright. I’m typically an easy-going guy, not much gets me riled up. I guess I’ve found my kryptonite, Ben Wallace. He’s a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart. I don’t wish to stand here and have a polite conversation. I want to stalk my prey and fuck him until we can’t stand any longer.

  This is not like me at all. I’m not a dominant guy and I’m not an alpha. I’m no spineless chump, but I don’t ever feel the need to go after people. I guess a good workout after-school is the plan for today. I need to work off whatever this is and get back to an even keel.