I crook a finger under her chin and tilt her face up to mine. “I doubt that’s true.”
What the fuck am I doing? This is reckless. It’s not breaking a rule, but it’s a gray area, murky at best.
She slides a hand into her pocket, and I back away, dropping her chin as I look around to make sure we’re alone. Using her teeth, she pulls off a glove, her finger flying over the screen.
“Are you texting him?”
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and I take another step back from her, clearing my throat, hoping she didn’t hear it.
“He probably won’t answer.”
Well, fuck. I can’t refuse her now even if I wanted to. The white knight in me won’t let me.
“Maybe he’ll surprise you. Can I give you a ride? Are you in a dorm or off campus?” I know exactly where she lives, but she doesn’t know that.
The look on her face is adorable: confusion mixed with a slight smirk. I’ve seen the way she checked me out all last year. I know she thinks I’m attractive, but what delights me most is that I don’t see a hint of distrust, and given her history with men, that’s huge.
“I’m in the student apartments behind the football field.”
“That’s a long walk. Why don’t I drive you over there?” I move to my car, knowing she’ll follow.
“Okay,” she says with a sigh. I hear the snow crunch under her boots behind me.
I open the passenger door for her, and once she’s in, I lean over her to buckle her in. “Sorry, it sticks, let me help,” I say, way too close to the heat of her body as the blood in my veins starts to rush to my dick. Once I get her buckled, I move around to my side.
I pull up to student apartments, and she points out her building. Once she disappears into her apartment, I slip my phone out of my pocket. Her text nearly does me in.
Please, sir.
CHAPTER 23
EMMA
That night I have two nightmares. The first time I wake up screaming, I call Ella to calm me down. She soothes me back to sleep, telling me stories about her current flavor-of-the-month boyfriend. Since they change so often now, I have a hard time learning their names. I don’t remember hanging up with her, so when I wake up screaming again, I end up waking her up too.
She calms me down a second time, but I’m restless, so once we hang up I text Daddy Dom.
Sorry it’s late.
Or early? Idk
Had two nightmares tonight and I can’t get back to sleep.
I’m here, pet.
His reply nearly knocks the breath out of me. It’s been eight months since we’ve had any contact, and I honestly didn’t expect him to respond. Before I can think how to reply, myscreen lights up with an incoming call. I nearly drop the phone as I fumble to answer it with a breathy “Hello?”
“Emma,” he rasps.
A tear slips down my cheek. “I’m broken. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry to bother you,” I cry. I have no self-control when it comes to this man, but the organ in my chest doesn’t seem to care.
“You’re not bothering me, and you’re not broken. You’re the strongest fucking person I know. You went through a lot of trauma at a young age, and you’ve come out of it a tower of strength. I’m in awe of you.”
I don’t know how to respond to that because while I know he means every word he said, it doesn’t feel true. Sure, some awful shit happened to me and my mom when I was little, but until Professor A-hole pushed me to dig into my emotions, I couldn’t even remember what had happened. And once I did, the nightmares slowly receded. So why have they started up again now? I know my therapist would remind me that healing isn’t linear and that it’s my brain protecting me from perceived threats. But it stinks when I feel like I’ve done everything right, followed my therapist’s suggestions, only to fall back into the same trauma-fueled dreams.
“But you don’t want to be with me.”
The words hang in the air between us. I can hear his soft breathing as a tear slips down my cheek.
