“Yes,” I admit softly. “I miss them.”
I toss my hair over my shoulder, shrugging off the painful past. “That was a long time ago. I’m fine now.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I would prefer if you didn’t.”
Of course I have to lie. Even though I’m aching to tell him all about my anguish, that’s completely unreasonable.
Lena Williams’ parents didn’t die in a flash flood. In fact, there’s very little about her past if you look her up online. Most of my digital footprint starts with my fake ID’s social media five years ago, and there are some articles on my university’s website about my academic achievements.
We walk in silence for the next few minutes, but it no longer feels awkward. I’m simply comforted by his quiet presence at my side.
“This is my place,” I say when we arrive at my apartment block. “Thanks for walking me home.”
“I’m taking you to your door,” he counters in that stern tone that messes with my head.
“So bossy,” I tease, even as I allow him to follow me up the stairs to the second floor.
“I think you like it,” he remarks.
My cheeks heat, and I fish in my pocket for my keys to distract myself from his allure. Because he’s right. His bossiness makes something distinctly feminine inside me melt.
We’re treading dangerously close to flirting.
Or maybe we have been all along. Ourbanterholds an undeniably hot undercurrent.
I put my key in the lock, but his hand closes over mine. My skin tingles where we make contact, and a soft gasp escapes me.
Suddenly, I’m pinned by his dark stare. “Call me immediately if you need anything.”
“I will,” I breathe. “If my stalker texts me again, I’ll contact you.”
His thumb rubs my knuckles. “I’m here to support you. And not just to show up when he’s harassing you. You can talk to me anytime. I know this is a scary situation. You don’t have to go through it alone.”
I lick my lips, and his eyes flare as he follows the traitorous sign of my desire.
“Rand.” I’m far too shaky when I say his name. “This isn’t appropriate.”
“I think we moved pastappropriatethe moment you stepped into my office yesterday. I know you feel it too. Your pupils are dilated, and your pulse is elevated.”
To prove his point, he touches my wrist.
“You’re my professor,” I counter weakly.
“Barely,” he reasons. “We’re almost the same age.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t change anything. I can’t risk my place on my course. I won’t.”
He slowly withdraws his touch. “I won’t force my company on you. I don’t want you to regret anything that happens between us.”
“Nothing can happen between us.” Why does my whisper sound so strained?
He steps toward me, and my head tips back. My lips part, already tingling in anticipation of his kiss.
He simply stares down at me for agonizing heartbeats, his eyes flicking over each of my features. Finally, that unbearably sexy smirk tilts his mouth.
“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
He pulls away, and cold air closes around me in the absence of his body heat. My skin pebbles.
