FUCK.
“You just said you’ve been called that your whole life.”
“Yeah, but I just told you that. You didn’t know that when you kicked him out of class.”
A bead of sweat trickles down my spine under my suit jacket as I wrack my brain for a way to get out of this.
“I could tell by the look on your face. When he said it.” I pause, unsure of how much to share. When her doe eyes lock with mine, I continue. “You wrinkled your nose and flinched when he said it. I could tell it bothered you,” I say, placing my arms on the desk in front of her and leaning toward her.
“Why do you care what bothers me?” Her soft floral scent fills my nostrils, making it hard to concentrate. My dick is having a Pavlovian response to the smell and decides this is the time he wants to stand at attention. Apparently, that’s how much this woman has fucked with my psyche.
I stare at her beautiful face for several moments, taking in all her delicate features, when she arches an eyebrow at me, waiting for my response. “I care about all of my students.” I admit, my words hold a deeper meaning that I pray she doesn’t read into.
“You have a weird way of showing it,” she mumbles. “Cruel to be kind.”
“Hamlet.” I fight the urge to touch her, to tilt her chin forcing her to look at me. “I think you have a lot of potential. As a student. If I’m hard on you, it’s because I see greatness in you.”
I should leave it at that, walk away.
She looks up at me, her face filled with a mix of emotions: wonder, hope, confusion. She schools her features, settling into a look of determination. “I am made of sterner stuff. I’ve been called worse names, endured harder trials, only to come out of the other side stronger. I can handle myself, and I don’t need you to intercede on my behalf. Nor do I need your false public accusations. I have plans for my education, for my life, and I don’t need you pushing my face into the mud every time I’ve climbed my way out of the pit just because you think I could handle more.”
Oh, but you do, pet. You just don’t realize that the devil on my shoulder pushing you is Daddy Dom.
CHAPTER 12
EMMA
My sophomore year definitely isn’t as easy as my freshman year was, and with each passing day, I question my decisions. As the end of the semester approaches, I can’t wait for the break from classes. And from Professor A-hole.
Daddy Dom’s rules have come in handy and have made dealing with Professor A-hole tolerable.
Nothing worth doing is easy.
I repeat the mantra in my head.
This will all be worth it. I’ll be able to do so much good in the world. I’ll be able to help people like Lizzy.
I’ve somehow managed to earn an A in my Shakespeare class, and as long as he doesn’t eviscerate my final paper, I should be able to maintain my four-point-zero GPA. Grades have always been important to me, but lately they haven’t felt like the mark of success they once did.
Now if only I could solve my other problem.
I haven’t seen Daddy Dom in person since the first week of classes, but now that I’ll be in the city for winter break, I’m dying to visit the club.
He’s been so hot and cold, and it’s infuriating. I think helikes me. He’ll call or text me so I know I meansomethingto him, but when I bring up seeing him again or going to the club, he either shuts it down or ignores it.
One minute he’s opening up to me through text, then he’s ghosting me for weeks. Every time I feel like I’ve had a breakthrough with him, he goes silent. I wish he’d make up his mind about what he wants. I’d love to enforce some rules of my own, but I’m afraid it would push him away even more, and I’m desperate for every little morsel he gives me.
And I wish I could see him in person again. He hasn’t been clear about why we can’t see each other right now, but I want to believe it’s that he’s busy and he wants me to concentrate on school. Our texts and phone calls haven’t been enough to satisfy the overwhelming need coursing through me anytime I think about him. I need his hands on me, his mouth on my skin. No one else has ever brought this out in me, and I think I’m finally ready to take the next step.
The December air assaults my senses as I leave my parents’ house and head to my car, loaded up with my bags. I’d planned to spend winter break at home, but there’s a lot of tension there, and after a day it was stressing me out. That’s how I end up at Alyx’s.
The entrance and hallway leading up to his apartment are cramped, and we awkwardly maneuver all my luggage to his door.
“Thanks for letting me crash here for a couple weeks.”
“Your eighteen suitcases would say otherwise,” he groans as he lugs two more bags in from the hallway.
“It’s not that many.” I watch him struggle with the last three bags, barely getting through the door before tripping over a rug and nearly falling over.
