The server brought our drinks: a coconut milk cocktail, spicy and fresh, with alcohol that burned in my throat.
I lifted the drink. “Your usual?”
“It’s one of the only places where I haven’t run into anyone,” he said. That was hard to believe.
“A hideout?”
He nodded. I glanced around us, trying to figure out the meaning behind this. Why would he bring me here, to a secluded lounge? Why would he agree to have dinner with my mom? Why else would he agree to be in the contest with me? It was one thing to screw with a student, but it was something more when that person had also spanked you. When that person had given you undeniable, mind-blowing pleasure. Had awoken a darkness inside of you that you never knew existed. To throw it away and say that he wasn’t to be trusted, just becausesomeone elsewas wary? That someone else who didn’t know him, not like I did.
Despite my better judgment, Iwantedto trust Nate. I had to find out for myself.
“Do you see me as a peer?” I asked.
He turned towards me. “Peer is a strange word choice.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Do you see us as equals?”
“Yes and no,” he said. “I’m still your professor until the end of the semester.” I sighed, but I wasn’t going to argue with the technicalities. “That bothers you.”
“It makes this whole thing between us messed up.”
He didn’t say anything, which I took as an agreement. But I had to get the next question out of my system before I could move on.
“You’re not going to publish an opposing article last minute, are you?” I asked.
“I don’t plan on it.”
I let out a deep breath and finally felt better. At least that was out of the way. He may have had darkness lingering inside of him, but he wasn’t going to turn into an academic demon to prove something to me.
In between our first and second round, he sat up. “My friend is getting married. There’s a wedding and collaring ceremony in Mount Charleston if you’d like to attend.”
Collaring ceremony. That meant it was a friend from the Afterglow. I blinked my eyes. Was he asking me to be his date?
“You want me to be your plus one?”
“I don’t usually bring anyone. But you might enjoy it.”
Though I hated to admit it, it was the reassurance I needed right then. This was more than a fling to him. I was more than a student. He wanted me to be his plus one to a friend’s wedding, someone who had nothing to do with academia.
“I’ll go,” I said. He smiled, and after a while, he asked for the check.
“Thanks for going out with me tonight,” he said. Then in a quieter voice, he added, “Birthday night out.”
Had I missed something here? “Wait. Birthday?”
“Forty-third.”
That meant he was more than twice my age. But if he knew Mom and Dad during freshman year, that made sense. Too much sense.
“Is that too old for you?” he asked. I shoved his shoulder.
“Don’t say that,” I said. I waved my hand, eyeing a server. “Excuse me? Do you sell cake? Can we get a slice of cake for the birthday—” but I stopped because I couldn’t call him a birthday boy, “—birthday man over here?”
Maybe it was okay to be dating a grown man. Maybe it was kind of hot. He was one of the most striking bachelors in Las Vegas: unimaginably rich, a soon-to-be tenure contract at a top-tier university, and tall, dark, and handsome.
And he wanted me. Just me.
“I have a better idea,” he said. Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Birthdays come with spankings, don’t they, pet?”
