At a secret masked ball at Yale, Naomi Costa is literally swept off her stiletto-blistered feet by a man with a killer jawline, a perfect body, and an even-better kiss. They bust out of an emergency exit and have axis-shaking sex. He pours whiskey in her belly button and after they run out of condoms, they have to get creative. That kind of sex. The next day, she learns that he is none other than Dr. Benjamin Beck, a brand new member of the Yale faculty and the hottest thing to happen to academia since… well, ever. She has to take his damned junior seminar to graduate, but it gets worse. He’s also her College Master: her boss, her advisor, her everything. And he’s just moved in, right downstairs. They can’t stay away from each other. They're either fusion or fission or both. They’re making out in libraries, hiding notes between stones, and sneaking off to nautically themed AirBnbs. Hear that sound? It’s the academic code of ethics going up in flames.
If they're found out, he’ll lose his job and his reputation. She'll lose her scholarship and be forced to return to the life of lobster fishing that she thought she’d escaped.
And they will be found out, yes they will.
So what the hell are they going to do?
***
To the reader: Things get damned dirty in this book. The characters curse, the sex gets explicit. It’s an erotic love story with fury. Be advised.
Other tasters’ notes: HEA. Sweet. Funny. Dirty. Muddy. Wet. Inspired by a real professor.
REVIEW
4 Stars!
Professed by Nicole Rendel is a wonderful professor/ student taboo story about Dr. Ben Beck and as we come to find out, his student Naomi. I enjoyed every minute of reading this story and I look forward to future books by this author.
Taboo. Against the rules. Secretive. Hot… Just a few words to describe Professed. Ben and Naomi meet at a secret society party on campus before the start of term, neither knowing who the other is. They are immediately attracted to each other, but then it is determined that he will not only be her professor, but also the dorm monitor as well. This puts them in an exceptional bind.
Ben is a philosopher who wrote a book that accidentally made him famous. He has used a nihilist approach his entire career, which has kept him aloof and never really experiencing anything in life. He is about to start his new job as a professor at Yale when he meets the one he can’t get out of his head. Naomi. She is the first time that he has every truly wanted, and wanted more. He is older than she is, but is more like a toddler when it comes to a relationship.
“She’s let loose this great passion in me, this thing I never knew existed, this roiling angry volcano that wants to create and destroy, to take over and make new. To need and want and believe.”
Naomi is under exceptional stress while away at Yale’s Durham College. Her single father is a lobster fisherman and makes no secret of wishing she was home to help with the business. She is trying with all of her might to not buck under the pressure of home and finish school. Her major just happens to be Philosophy, which puts her into main contact with Ben.
Ben and Naomi have a series of I want you but I can’t have you moments before they start begin to form a kind of relationship. When their secret is discovered by the powers that be, decisions must be made as to what will happen in the future. Will Ben still have a job? Will Naomi stay in school or will she return home to Maine to help her Dad? Life questions are never the easiest to answer, especially for a lifelong nihilist, who essentially believes in nothingness.
While I thoroughly enjoyed this book, there were times when Ben seems to be exceptionally immature. But while I read, I realized that he is experiencing a relationship and falling in love for the very first time in his late 30’s. He was never able to be in an immature teen relationship because of his dedication to school and the belief of nothing. Once I realized that, it was more joyful to experience his falling in love for the first time.
Naomi had a lot thrust upon her for someone so young. She had to be wiser beyond her years because she didn’t really have another choice. I thought that Naomi and Ben complimented and balanced each other out. That is what a successful relationship does. I will be reading more by Ms. Rendel and look forward to those future books.
ONE:
I need to drink whiskey from that belly button. Screw every other idea I've ever had. Jack Daniels. Belly button. Naomi. That’s the only fucking philosophical logic I will ever need.
She’s still on the heels of her orgasm, and I want to leave her there just like she is, but I have to take her with me. I have to keep her close. I hook my head under her bound wrists and take her off the bed to bring her with me as we kiss—because I cannot stop kissing her, will not stop kissing her. With my hand behind me, I fling open the minibar and fumble around blind. Chips, nuts, pretzels, what is that, a roll of Mentos?
Jack Daniels, where the hell are you?
Grabbing what feels like the right little bottle, I turn to look down. Gin. I toss it towards the desk. Second try, and bingo. I've got it.
But I’m going to have to let go of her to open this damned bottle. Proof that the world is an unfair and unkind place. It’ll have to be done. I let go of her face, and it makes her moan, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she grips onto the back of my neck with my tie and hangs on even tighter through the kiss.
As I crack the lid, her eyes widen, inches from mine. I feel her cheeks rise as she smiles. With one last dip into her mouth, I force myself to break the kiss, ducking down to get my head out from under her bound arms.
We stand there staring at one another for an instant. Her pupils dilate, and that’s when I press her to the bed. “Hope you’re not ticklish.”
Even as she lands with a cushy thunk on the mattress, she’s giving me that all-trouble smile. She scoots back towards the pillows, her long black hair a gorgeous tangle behind her, the same color as my tie. There’s a tan line at her stomach, and it’s killing me.
“So ticklish. But I can take it.”
I lie down at a right angle to her body, with my cheek to her stomach. I can smell her wetness in the air and on my fingers.
“Ready?” I ask. I sink my cheek deeper into her skin. God, this skin. God damn, this superfine skin. I tip the bottle towards her stomach.
“Ready,” she says. I feel her whole body quiver. The ticklish before the tickle is the agony of agonies.
When the whiskey hits her, she grips my hair tight. For one second, I resist all temptation: I watch it all unfold. The whiskey shivers, her body shivers, and then the shivers come out as a jagged gasp.
I lick it off, and she squirms and sucks air through her teeth. I suck it from her and growl into her body. Her feet hook around my calves. I move to her nipples, dribble on a few drops and smear them around with my tongue. I move to that perfect little depression at the base of her neck. Straight-up Naomi. Fucking heaven. Her skin, that hair, her sounds, the way her body moves under my mouth? Lemonade, when it’s too hot for anything else? I can still feel my first orgasm deep in my cock, but I’m hard again. She’s not only wrecked all my philosophies. She’s turned me into a goddamned teenager.
I grab a condom, from my wallet this time, and tear it open. “We’re going to need more of these.”
But she shakes her head into the pillows. She holds my stare as she slides her hands all over her body, red polish on porcelain. “Put it here. Put it everywhere.”
Christ. It’s official. I've been pussywhipped in record time.
And I don’t even know her last name.
TWO:
Dean Osgood’s voice fills the room. He always talks too loud for the space, always. I notice it’s getting hot in here, and a little stuffy. Late August, and all the linen and sports jackets and menopausal hot flashes.
Everybody’s eyes still off of me, I grab the second puff and jam it in my mouth.
“Just wanted to say a few words to welcome our new Master,” Osgood says. Compulsory pause. Hand to God, he must practice this stuff in front of a mirror. “So I present to you all, with greatest delight and excitement, Professor Benjamin Beck.”
I pay no attention. I turn away so nobody sees me chewing while I pretend to gather up napkins from the coffee table. That’s when I hear a voice, his voice, that voice, saying, “Please, Dean, call me Ben.”
I freeze. Slowly, with little shuffles of my Danskos, I turn around and stop chewing.
It’s him.
It’s Ben. He’s in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches.
It’s Ben. Ben is the Master.
I fucked the Master.
No, the Master fucked me.
Hard.
Perfectly.
Oh shit. Oh shit!
Everybody’s eyes still off of me, I grab the second puff and jam it in my mouth.
“Just wanted to say a few words to welcome our new Master,” Osgood says. Compulsory pause. Hand to God, he must practice this stuff in front of a mirror. “So I present to you all, with greatest delight and excitement, Professor Benjamin Beck.”
I pay no attention. I turn away so nobody sees me chewing while I pretend to gather up napkins from the coffee table. That’s when I hear a voice, his voice, that voice, saying, “Please, Dean, call me Ben.”
I freeze. Slowly, with little shuffles of my Danskos, I turn around and stop chewing.
It’s him.
It’s Ben. He’s in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches.
It’s Ben. Ben is the Master.
I fucked the Master.
No, the Master fucked me.
Hard.
Perfectly.
Oh shit. Oh shit!
He hasn’t seen me yet. Oh, sweet Jesus, God above. What if I just ran out the French doors right now, just bolted across the quad and locked myself in my room? Lucy could bring me food. I could say I’m in quarantine. My professors could send me everything by email! I’d never have to face him. He’d never have to know.
Except I can’t. I can’t take my eyes off him. And there’s nowhere to go. My mouth is full of artichoke cream, I’m in the crush of bodies, pinned next to the curve of the grand piano. I’m stuck, staring. At Ben.
Just the sight of him makes my whole body tighten, and I can literally feel myself getting wet. Let me feel you, beautiful. Let me feel it.
Osgood raises his glass and says, “Join me in our traditional Durham toast…”
At that moment, Ben’s eyes fall right on me.
His face says, Holy shit.
I clutch my cocktail tray. Oh God. What have we done?
All the fellows echo back, “Welcome, Master Beck!”
Ohhhhh. No.
Except I can’t. I can’t take my eyes off him. And there’s nowhere to go. My mouth is full of artichoke cream, I’m in the crush of bodies, pinned next to the curve of the grand piano. I’m stuck, staring. At Ben.
Just the sight of him makes my whole body tighten, and I can literally feel myself getting wet. Let me feel you, beautiful. Let me feel it.
Osgood raises his glass and says, “Join me in our traditional Durham toast…”
At that moment, Ben’s eyes fall right on me.
His face says, Holy shit.
I clutch my cocktail tray. Oh God. What have we done?
All the fellows echo back, “Welcome, Master Beck!”
Ohhhhh. No.
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CONFESSED is coming September 14th!
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