But it’s too dangerous to hold that belief. I’m already out of my depths, floundering in the open water. To open myself up to a betrayal that I know—that my common-sense screams at me—is on its way.
So, I put my true feelings back in their box, storing them on the highest shelf, standing on tippy-toe to push them back from the edge. Only when they’re safely out of sight can I relax, return his smile, mumble my hello while I curve my head into his touch, closing my eyes and wishing it didn’t have to be this way.
“You shouldn’t be here. It’s against regulations.”
He appears startled, then gives a soft chuckle. “Oh, no. Not breaking regulations at her fancy school. Quick guards, lock her up.”
I put my hand against his chest, meaning to push him away, but I get lost in the smoothness of his skin, the tautness as it stretches over the muscles bulked beneath.
And his hand moves, too, running along the curves of my body until it takes a handful of my arse and pulls me closer, until my pussy is flush against his hardening length.
“Is that another good morning you’re working on down there?”
His head stretches forward, lips finding a thousand delicate nerve endings in the curve of my shoulder and giving them the time of their lives with the delicate application of his tongue. A reminder of its talents in case I’d forgotten from the night before.
Then his lips form a seal against my skin, gently sucking.
“You should get back to your room,” I remind him again, a pulsing beat between my legs ignoring the rubbish coming from my mouth as my hips slowly pump, creating friction against his stiffening cock.
“I should,” he agrees, briefly tearing himself away from my shoulder to send that deepening rumble straight into my ear. “But it’s probably more important to thrust you into a shower and make sure your wounds completely clean, don’t you think?”
Thinking is a little problematic, so I’ll have to take his word.
And a second later, I don’t have a choice. He swivels his legs off the bed, sweeps me into his arms, and lifts me from the bed.
The move takes my breath away. A demonstration of his power, his strength, that melts me from the inside out. Any self-protective manoeuvres take an instant raincheck, desperate to indulge.
He doesn’t pause, doesn’t stumble on his way into the bathroom. While he’s reaching to turn on the shower, I glance over his shoulder and see the streaks of blood on the bedclothes.
Reality intervenes and I struggle to be let down. “No. You have to go.” I push at his shoulder, panic clear in my voice. “You can’t be in here.”
He sets me on my feet, his brow creased with worry. “Nobody’s coming to check to see what room I stayed the night in.”
“It doesn’t…” Panic shoves a fist down my throat, choking off what I was trying to say. My face works as I try to swallow. Then I’m hauled against his chest, my view blocked by the far more enticing image of his bulging muscles.
“I’ll go.” His voice is soft, golden. His thumb caresses along my cheekbone then he drops a kiss onto the top of my head and pulls away, wrinkling his nose in mischief. “If you need me, I’m on the other side of that wall.” Then he drops his voice to a baseline murmur. “Pretty sure I’ll hear you if you call.”
I laugh, still tense but finding the humour as he moves to do what he said he would, edging out the door while blowing me a last kiss.
Once he’s gone, I run over and check the lock, finding he flicked it on before closing himself out.
Not that it means anything. Not now he has a key.
A thought that causes another surge of panic to erupt but I’m too exhausted for it to develop fully. I quickly shower, then strip the blood-spotted sheets from the bed, stuffing them in the laundry bag before replacing them with fresh.
Once I’m ready for breakfast, my movements slow as I realise the students gathering to eat their toast and cereal are the same pupils clocking up views on my video.
A light-knuckled tap comes on my door. “Want some company?” Rowena asks when I open it, peering with interest over my shoulder as though searching for someone, a knowing smile on her face.
“Don’t,” I warn her, raising my forefinger.
“What? I wasn’t going to say a word,” she says, drawing a zipper across her lips before giving an evil chuckle. “It’s not like I heard your early morning eviction with pitch-perfect clarity.” She shakes her head while rolling her eyes, an impressive feat. “Such a stickler for the rules but only when you want to be.”
“That’s loud for a word you weren’t going to say,” I tease back, relaxing into the banter as we set off along the corridor. “It’s almost like you said it after all.”
The moment I walk into the cafeteria, I rethink the decision. Whether the eyes turning my way have watched the video or not, my brain insists that’s the only reason for their interest.
Not that they’re waiting for friends to join them. Not that they’re bored and in search of distraction, even the momentary thrill of a new person walking through the door.
