Page 13 of Depraved

How am I going to focus on my MA when Bones is my professor?

He said we’ve been studying the same subjects for years. He got this job just to be close to me.

I shiver and break from his gaze, gathering my books and shoving them in my bag.

“Lena.” Rand says my fake name, and I stiffen. “I need a word.”

I want to tell him this isn’t fair. On campus, he’s in a position of authority. I can’t refuse in front of the other students.

I asked for space, and he’s pushing my boundary.

I square my shoulders and force myself to face him. He reads my displeasure clearly in my expression, and he seems to smother a wince.

But he doesn’t relent. He doesn’t dismiss me to join my course mates.

As soon as we’re alone, I drop the pretense of being his student; I’m his equal.

“You have no right to keep me here. You said you respect me, but you’re manipulating me. Again.”

His brows draw into harsh slashes. “Needle me all you want. I deserve it. I’ll take whatever barbed words you want to throw at me, but I’m not giving up on us.”

I cast a frantic glance around the room, but everyone is gone. The door is closed.

“I don’t want to talk here,” I say in an undertone.

“Why not?” he challenges. “We’re alone.”

“Because I can’t trust myself when I’m with you.” I’m more desperate now.

I think about the filthy scene in his office, when I surrendered to him.

Oh, god.

“You set me up,” I accuse. “That day in the library. You commanded me to masturbate in public. You guilted me into it as Bones. And then you showed up as Rand. You ordered me into your office and took advantage of me.”

He flinches as though my words make physical impact. “Don’t say that. I would never take advantage of you.”

My fists clench. “You tricked me. You manipulated me. Just like you’re using the power imbalance at university between us now.”

“Don’t say you regret that first kiss.” He’s begging. “Don’t say you regret us.”

My traitorous heart aches for him. The man standing in front of me is the only person I’ve wanted in years: he’s my masked man, and he’s Rand.

Forgiving him is so terribly tempting.

He reaches for me, and I don’t pull away. His fingers rest on my wrist, reading my elevated pulse at his touch.

“You want me,” he says, a rough statement of fact.

“What my body wants and what my brain is telling me are entirely different things.” My rebuttal is far too breathy.

“Let me ease your mind, then. You want to know why I ordered you to masturbate in the library? Because I was terrified of losing you. Because I’m weak for you, and it makes me crazy. I know what I did was manipulative, and I’m sorry for that. But I can’t be sorry for what came of it. I’ll never regret one moment we share.”

My lips quiver at a rush of emotion in response to his raw need.

“This is insane,” I whisper.

“Maybe I’m not entirely sane, then. Call me a madman. Call me a bastard. Call me anything you want, as long as you call me yours.”