“Perhaps this conversation would be better suited for a different time.”
No subtext needed. I heard him loud and clear.
He sports a pair of dark brown slacks and a sage button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms, and I wonder how long they’ve been like that.
If he taught his last class with them exposed so everyone could ogle him.
No, that would make him uncomfortable. He wants attention to be academic in nature—despite the glint in his gaze reflecting my own lewdness.
Just for a moment though. When he blinks, it’s gone, and he closes the door behind him as he sets his briefcase on the cushioned green chair next to it.
“Just how long is your list of priors, Ms. Anderson?”
“Assuming I have a record is not very progressive of you, Boy Scout.”
The apartment around him is dark, even with the lights he flips on as he comes into the living room. Every mirror within is covered with scrap fabric or some kind of furniture slip—even the standing one in his bathroom. The curtains contain about an inch’s worth of dust, as if they’re never drawn during the day.
It’s unbelievably stuffy—everything inside barely touched, nothing ever disturbed, like a mausoleum of academia.
“Besides,” I continue when he says nothing, “is it technically a crime if I have a key?”
“Where the hell would you have gotten—” He drags a palm down his face. “Never mind. I forgot who I was speaking to. Delinquency extends beyond restricted basements and prohibited forests, clearly.”
I grin, leaning back. “You don’t seem all that happy to see me.”
Slowly, his eyes travel over my form, pausing for a single breath when he reaches the multiple undone buttons at the top of my blouse.
He clears his throat, pocketing his hands. Like he’s physically restraining himself from reaching for me.
Our brief moments together outside class are mere memories. Ones I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for a myriad of reasons—the main one being how badly my body craves him.
It’s a disease, this want I have. Pathetic even. Normally, I wouldn’t be so desperately trying to get him to admit there’ssomethinghere, but my soul feels like it’s being fed through a shredder each time he denies me.
I’ve never ached for anything like I do him. At first, it was just the physical attraction, a statuesque beauty that haunts my dreams. But beyond that, listening to him lecture each day only makes my admiration grow.
He’s smart. Passionate. Endlessly unnerved by my existence.
Resistance is futile.
“You can’t be here,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Are we really still playing theI could lose my jobgame? I thought we agreed that was just an excuse.”
“My brother is staying with me.”
That makes my stomach drop. “I thought guests weren’t allowed inside faculty housing.”
“They’re not, which doesn’t help your case, by the way. But Beckett got a special exemption. He’s sort of…in my custody for the time being.”
“Custody? Is he a child?” Surely, not the Beckett I’ve met.
“No,” he replies sharply. “It was just decided that given the circumstances of last semester, he should be kept under someone’s watchful eye.”
I purse my lips. “Because of the whole cave incident, right?”
He lets out a long breath. “You know about that?”
“Not all the details. My family works on a need-to-know basis, and apparently that didn’t fully qualify.” I slide my handsover my legs, considering. “My brother messed him up pretty bad, I heard. Though he seems to have recovered okay on the outside.”
