I still have no idea why those anonymous emails would send me out here, but I’ll worry about that when I can think a little clearer.
Or maybe I’ll just block the address and move on.
A quarter mile later, Isaac eases his car over onto the shoulder of the road in front of mine, his taillights bleeding red across the asphalt in the side mirror. He comes to a stop and puts the car in park. We both open our doors to get out, and cold air rushes in, slamming through the cabin. I think I was wrapped up in all that warmth for so long that it doesn’t seep into my bones just yet.
The gravel crunches under my shoes as I get out, the sound startlingly loud in the dark. We meet at the front of his car, and he steps up close to take my face between his hands.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
All I can do is nod, struck a bit speechless at the way the glow of the moon highlights the gold in his eyes.
“It’s normal if this feeling lingers for longer than just tonight,” he says as his thumbs brush against my cheeks. “We may have to wait to be with each other openly, but if you needme, if the feeling doesn’t go away soon or it gets worse, will you please promise to let me know?”
Again, I nod, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that it’s serious enough to him to require words. “I promise.”
“Thank you.”
He rests his forehead against mine, and I think I’m starting to love the simple contact of it. He inhales deeply like he’s breathing me in.
“Fuck, I’m going to miss this.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
I reallyamgoing to miss it.
How the fuck am I supposed to go nearly two months without his touch now that I’ve had it? Now that I know the way his hands feel when they find me in the dark, the way his arms hold me like I’ll never feel cold again.
But I’ll survive the wait. I have to. Waiting is at least better than the alternative, than believing he doesn’t want it too.
He drops his hands to his sides, his fingers curling slightly like he’s fighting the urge to reach for me again. The moonlight catches his eyes just enough to show a faint glint of something intentional.
“Do you remember when I told you to useredas a safe word?”
“I remember,” I say, my pulse skipping from the memory.
“You might already know it’s related to BDSM, but if you don’t know much about it, do some research and see if exploring that kind of relationship dynamic is something you’d be open to. It’s perfectly alright if it’s not, but if it is…” The corner of his mouth curls in that slow, sinful smirk that does terrible things to my self-control. “Just be prepared. I can be a bit of a sadist.”
I huff a quiet laugh and roll my eyes. “You don’t say.”
He chuckles under his breath, the sound low and warm, before he straightens, slipping back into that calm, measured authority as though none of this ever happened.
“Have a good night, Mr. Ellis,” he says, placing us back in the roles we’ll have to follow until we can be together again. “Drive safely.”
“You too, Professor.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. We stand there, caught between what we are and what we can’t have. Not yet. The night presses close, and the wind carries the faint echo of the river just past the trees.
It feels like a distant memory already.
He steps back, and we both get in our cars.
As I watch the night swallow his taillights, I find myself wishing I’d kissed him one more time.
One month down. Three weeksto go.
I tell myself that’s all I have to get through. Just three more weeks of pretending I don’t watch him from the front of the room. Three more weeks of pretending I don’t still feel the imprint of his mouth against mine.
When his eyes meet mine from across the lecture hall, there’s no trace of fear anymore, just focus and curiosity and the sharpness that’s always been there beneath everything else.
