I meet her big brown eyes in the rearview mirror, and Sadie nods before turning away. Neither of us speaks after that. When we arrive at her school, I say, “Have a good day,” as she gets out, but the door closes so fast, I don’t know if she heard me or if she cares.
My brain doesn’t slow down the rest of the way to work. Henry tries to talk to me, but I tell him I’m late for a meeting and hurry away. It’s still early. Colton isn’t supposed to arrive for another fifteen minutes, and I really need that time to get myself sorted out, but the second I approach my office, I see him there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, T-shirt stretched tightly across his pecs and arms, looking as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. All that does is make the anger inside me boil hotter.
“James,” he says, pushing away from the wall.
“Professor Valentine,” I correct him, forcing myself not to look around to make sure no one heard.
He winces as though he hadn’t used my first name on purpose. I can see how that’s something he’ll have to get usedto. I’ve gone from being his good boy to his professor. My dick twitches as I try to force those thoughts from my head. I don’t need or want to be his good boy. I never should have been in the first place.
He doesn’t respond as I fumble trying to unlock the door.
“You’re not late,” he says, making my heart beat even faster. “I’m early.”
I know he’s saying that because of how upset I was when he arrived first the last time we had a scene together. “I know,” I snap, but I still don’t like that he was here first. I don’t like that he’s here at all, especially after the morning I’ve had.
I freeze when Colton’s hand lands on mine…when he takes the key from me and unlocks the door. I shouldn’t be allowing him to do that. My shoulders shouldn’t relax when he does.
I snatch the key back, then lead him into my office. We should do this in the classroom, but then, we shouldn’t be doing this at all. And it’s not as if I’ve never had a student in my office, especially for important discussions, but none of them were Colton.
I walk over to my desk and set my bag down. “I take it you weren’t able to get out of my class.”
“I tried. None of the ones I need are offered next semester either. It will throw me off track to wait. I understand that this can—”
“Get me fired and make me lose everything?” I interrupt.
“Could it, though? If we don’t do it again?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, walking away from him, giving Colton my back and looking out the window.
He’s right. There’s no way anyone would ever be able to find out we had sex. We were at my house both times. It’s been over for months. It won’t affect his grades or how he’streated. My TA does most of my grading anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “If you really don’t think we can make this work, I’ll drop the class.”
I turn and look at him, see the sincerity on his face, think about the care he’d shown me when we were together, and though I don’t really know Colton, I believe him. He would drop this class even if it made his life more difficult.
“Stay in the class. It’s fine. It fits with how my fucking life has been the last few months.”
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t know what makes me do it, why I open my mouth and let the words fall out when it’s so fucking far from my MO, it’s like an alien took over my body, but I say, “Oh, you mean the fact that my abusive mom died? And when she did, I found out I have two young siblings I knew nothing about? I have custody of them and don’t know the first thing about raising children. They hate me, and I can’t blame them. I’m going to ruin their lives just like she ruined all of ours.” My breathing picks up, my chest tight. The room spins.
I’m usually better at this, better at having a handle on things and not losing it. Why the fuck did I say any of this to him? I want the words back. I can’t let him see these parts of me. He’s already seen the others, seen who I am and what I crave. Telling him this is showing him more of me than anyone has seen, which makes me shake and spin out of control even more.
“James.”
“Professor Valentine,” I force out, and realize I’m pacing. When had I started to move? Why am I losing it like this? What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Breathe,” Colton says, closer now, hand on my shoulder as my legs feel weak. “Hey. Come here.”
“No,” I argue.
“Sit,” he demands, not taking no for an answer and pulling my chair over.
I shouldn’t sit.
I shouldn’t listen.
But I do.
