I’m really, really, really here.
But… can I actually go through with this?
The stone building looms against the darkening sky, arched windows glowing with that same warm, inviting light as last night.
I don’t know if I’m really going to do this.
My feet are rooted to the sidewalk. Part of me wants to turn around, walk home, curl up with Twist and a cup of cocoa, and pretend last night was a fever dream. A one-time lapse in judgment...
Kane is dangerous. Older. Clearly involved in things I shouldn’t even know about. He spanked me in a public building, for goodness’ sake.
What kind of boy goes back for more? Certainly not a fully funder PhD candidate with a history of Straight As and not a single detention or academic black mark in his entire life, that’s for sure.
I bite my lip, shifting my weight
I take a shaky step backward, ready to bolt.
Then I see him.
Through the tall windows, Kane is inside. He’s climbing the wide stone staircase toward the upper floors, toward the quiet reference section where he disciplined me last night. His tall, broad frame is unmistakable even from here.
I watch Kane. He doesn’t look around. He moves with purpose, like he already knows I’ll be there.
My breath catches.
It’s now or never.
I stand frozen for one more heartbeat, every instinct screaming in different directions—run home, go inside, pretend you never met him, let him ruin you.
Then I square my shoulders, adjust my backpack, and push open the heavy doors.
The familiar scent of old books and polished wood wraps around me like a welcome. My sneakers are quiet on the marble floor as I head toward the stairs. My bottom tingles with anticipation. My heart races with equal parts fear and excitement.
Kane is waiting somewhere up there.
And this time, I’m choosing to walk straight into his world.
I climb the stairs, one hand gripping the strap of my backpack, the other brushing nervously against my thigh. Each step brings me closer to whatever happens next… another spanking, more of his intense gaze, maybe something even more dangerous.
By the time I reach the top, my breathing is shallow. I pause at the entrance to the reference section, peering down the shadowed aisles.
There he is.
Kane stands near the same oak table from last night, arms loosely crossed, looking straight at me like he knew exactly when I’d arrive.
A slow, satisfied smile curves his lips.
“My bad boy returns,” Kane murmurs, voice low enough that only I can hear. “Not a second late.”
My knees feel weak. Heat pools low in my belly.
I don’t even know if he’d let me run now. But here’s the thing, I don’t want to…
Chapter 8
Kane
I stand near the heavy oak table in the shadowed reference section, arms crossed over my chest as I watch the boy approach.
