Page 26 of His to Teach

"Did you mean it?" she asks softly after our breathing has returned to normal. "About marrying me?"

"Every word." I tilt her chin up to look at me. "I don't care what it costs me—my job, my reputation, anything. You're what matters. The only thing that matters."

She traces my jawline with gentle fingers. "What will happen now? With the university?"

"I don't know," I admit. "Best case, I get a formal reprimand and we wait until you're no longer my student. Worst case, I lose my position." I shrug. "There are other universities. Other departments. I'm good at what I do."

"I could transfer," she offers. "Go somewhere else next semester."

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. I soften my tone. "No more sacrifices. No more running. We face this together."

She nods, settling back against my chest.

I stroke her hair, marveling at how close I came to losing her. How empty my life would be without her in it. The academic world has been my entire identity for so long. I've defined myself by publications and tenure and scholarly recognition.

Now, holding this impossible girl in my arms, I realize how hollow that identity was. How incomplete.

I'd burn it all down for her without a second thought.

Because I can’t live without my little girl.

twelve

. . .

Flower

Morning light filters through the blinds, painting stripes across Gordon's sleeping face. I've been awake for nearly an hour, just watching him—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slight furrow between his brows that never fully smooths even in sleep, the shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. Three months ago, he terrified me. Professor Davis, the department's brilliant tyrant, notorious for reducing seniors to tears with a well-placed criticism. Now he's just Gordon. My Gordon. The man who carried me across campus last night, not caring who saw or what they thought. The man who tied me to his bed and reclaimed me with desperate need, then held me like I might disappear if he loosened his grip. The man who would sacrifice his career, his reputation, everything he's built, rather than let me go.

What began as something forbidden—something that made me wet with shame when he called me "little girl" in his office—has transformed into something I can't imagine living without. The rules we've broken, the lines we've crossed…they should weigh on me. Should make me feel guilty, tainted.

Instead, I feel powerful. Chosen. Loved beyond reason.

My small-town upbringing trained me to be the good girl. Quiet. Dutiful. Never making waves. I came to college determined to shine academically but still following all the rules. Then Gordon Davis looked at me with those dark, penetrating eyes, and something inside me woke up. Something hungry and defiant and unashamed of wanting.

The first time he bent me over his desk, I thought the shame would consume me. When "Daddy" slipped from my lips during orgasm, I wanted to disappear. Now I say it deliberately, watching his eyes darken with possession, feeling the word's power.

He's made me brave. Made me own my desires. Made me understand that passion isn't something to hide or deny—it's something to claim, boldly and without apology.

His eyes flutter open, finding mine immediately. For a moment, he looks surprised, as if he can't quite believe I'm still here. Then his face softens into a smile that transforms him from intimidating professor to simply a man in love.

"You're still here," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

"Where else would I be?" I smooth back a strand of hair that's fallen across his forehead.

His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer. "After last night, I half expected to wake up and find you gone again. Another note on my pillow."

"Never." I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I'm not running anymore."

"Good." His hand strokes lazily down my spine, tracing each vertebra. "Because I'd just have to track you down again. And next time, I might not be so gentle about bringing you home."

The memory of him carrying me across campus, students staring and whispering, makes heat rise in my cheeks. "I think the entire university knows about us now."

"Let them know." He tilts my face up for a kiss, morning breath be damned. "I'm done hiding how I feel about you."

The kiss deepens, his tongue slipping between my lips to tangle with mine. His hand, still stroking my back, drifts lower to cup my ass, pulling me against the hard length of his morning erection. I moan into his mouth, already wet for him.

"Need you," he murmurs against my lips. "Always need you."