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I was still clenching my fists, over and over, when another man stepped out of the other closed door.

There was no real family resemblance, but I figured the fairly normal looking guy that stepped out was her uncle just by process of elimination.

“Ed Monroe?” I asked him, voice cold as a grave.

He nodded, swallowing. I was intimidating on a good day, when I wasn’t feeling murderous. I knew I was on another level just then, and anyone with a drop of sense would feel it.

“I’m her teacher, Carter North,” I introduced myself. “You know you’ve done a less than dismal job taking care of your brother’s daughter,” I told him almost conversationally. I knew that if he was capable of feeling guilt, that one should be a punch to the gut.

He was. He’d been hunched over in shame from the moment he stepped out of his room, but he bent farther at that.

“It’s bad enough you put her out on the streets, but if I find out she’s been further abused in this house, every adult that lives here is going to face consequences. Know that. But I’m here for her documents. Her birth certificate, her social security card.”

He looked stumped. “I have no idea where any of that is.”

“Figure it out,” I gritted out. I sat down on the stained sofa that I couldn’t believe they’d made my Nova sleep on, staring him down. “I’ll wait.”

“I-I’ll, um, ask Laura,” he stammered. “She might know.”

“You do that,” I bit out.

It did the trick. They managed to find what I asked for within a half hour. I more than half suspected Laura had kept it all from Nova out of spite.

Either way, I managed to leave without punching anyone. Considering how I felt about every single adult in that house, I thought it was a rather impressive feat of self-control on my part.

I set up a bank account for Nova that same day. She was uncomfortable with taking any money from me at all, so I didn’t tell her I put fifty grand in it. It just made me feel better to know that she had means.

I was working in my office and just about to turn in for bed. Nova was in the house somewhere. She was off work for the night, and though I’d been working on some schoolwork with her earlier, I had no clue what she’d been up to since then.

It was a sweet sort of torture to have her around so constantly. She lingered in my mouth. She was the grit in my teeth. But not grit like sand, more like strawberry seeds; a pleasant abrasion.

Though I’d crossed some serious lines with her, I hadn’t fucked up nearly as badly as I wanted to. She’d been living with me for weeks now and though I hadn’t taken her, it felt impossible that it wasn’t heading in that direction inevitably.

She’d be graduating in a few short months. If I could only wait that long, it would at least be something. But a few months felt like forever when every minute of your day your mind was consumed with one thing.

God, I wanted her.

As though my thoughts had conjured her, she appeared in my doorway.

She was wearing one of the soft little pajama shorts sets I’d gotten her. Online it had looked fairly modest and appropriate, but Nova’s body had other ideas. The little shorts were showing off most of her legs, and they were loose enough that all l could picture was what I could fit up there.

Easy access. I shivered.

The top was possibly worse. It was made of thin jersey and should have covered everything, but it buttoned up, and Nova wasn’t a fan of buttons. Also, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

She held up a copy of one of my books, she had it open and was waving it around enough to distract me from her body and to focus on what she was saying.

“I want you to do this to me. Exactly what you wrote right here.”

I never remembered every detail of the books I’d written, but some things certainly stood out. The one she was holding was by far my most erotic title, and it had been a bit controversial. It had a lot of degradation kink in it, which wasn’t for everyone.

The fact that she’d singled out that book in particular made me feel a bit lightheaded and unhinged.

I wanted to know every single thing in that book that had gotten her attention.

“Stop that,” I told her instead in my sternest teacher voice. “You shouldn’t talk to me that way. We’re not doing this.”

She shivered. I’d known she would.