It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him he doesn’t know me, but as I mull over what he just said, I wonder if maybe he does because he’s right.
He holds my gaze, cocking a brow when I don’t answer, and I look away.
Bad idea, he’s still holding my chin, which means I can’t do much more than look down, and that leaves me staring at his lips.
His very plush-looking pink lips and… is that a hole? Beneath his lip on the right side, it looks like he might have had a piercing once upon a time.
As if he needed to be hotter.
“Wren.”
I snap my eyes back up to his, feeling my cheeks heat. There’s no way he didn’t notice me blatantly gawking. I half expect him to be angry; it would be warranted, seeing how inappropriate that is, but he isn’t. I dare say it might even be the opposite.
That can’t be right…
“He said I was out all night, probably being a whore…” The words come out almost as if of their own accord, and I cringewhen I hear the way they tremble. “Like Jordan.” I hardly get those last two words out; my voice so quiet that if he wasn’t right here, I’m not sure he would have heard me.
“What?!” His outrage startles me. I watch his eyes blaze, but beyond that, it warms something in my chest.
Dimitri might be my guidance counselor and even my professor, but he doesn’t have to care like this; nobody else ever has.
“I’m gonna beat his ass,” he says, pushing to stand, his arm still holding me to him, taking me with him as he moves toward the door, and suddenly it’s not so heart-warming.
“No! Stop, it’s fine!” I insist, but he ignores me and continues toward the door.
Everything about this is bad.
Not only are we in a compromising position, but I also don’t need him to go and beat Gavin up! I highly doubt the school would be happy to have a professor beating on a student, not to mention something tells me it wouldn’t make Gavin hate me less.
“Dimitri!” I reach up, slapping my hands to each of his cheeks, and yank his head down so that he has no choice but to acknowledge me.
“It’s fine,” I say slowly, stretching the words out so that maybe he will believe me, but I see the way his jaw ticks, and I know he isn’t about to let this go.
With a sigh, I let my hands drop to his shoulders and lean into his chest, looking for the strength I know I’m going to need for this conversation.
“They don’t know.”
That does the trick.
He stops at the door, and while clinging to him like this was strange a few minutes ago, I can’t deny I’m coming to enjoy the feel of him and how he holds so tight against him.
It’s almost as if I were meant to be here, like we fit together.
It’s a funny thought, because I’ve never fit anywhere before, and to think here in myprofessor'sarms would be the first place.
Yeah, that would be just my luck.
“They don’t know what?” he asks, and the rough grit of his voice lets me know he’s still upset while also telling me my hormones control way too much of my brain.
Down, girl, now is not the time.
I pull back and peek up at him through my lashes, licking my suddenly very dry lips as I attempt to find the words that I would give anything not to be true.
“I didn’t tell them he’s dead.”
“Fuck, Wren,” he curses as his eyes soften and his brows pull down in a frown.
The emotion in his voice is enough to make my eyes well up again, and I groan in annoyance.
