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Blinking, I adjust my gaze to find a shirtless and tattooed Professor Segul standing at my bedside.
Only it’s not my room.
Everything is so clean, so classy, so ivory.
“Professor?” I push myself up, only for agony to rush to my head.
“Easy, now.” He swoops down and wraps a strong arm around my back, keeping me steady as I sit up.
His touch is a balm to my frayed nerves, and his leather and mahogany scent anchors me to reality. I’m in Professor Segul’s house. This is the room he was sitting in on the Saturday night we first sexted.
“How did I get here?” I rasp.
“You were drunk, and I abducted you from outside the Campus Café.”
“Why?” I sink into the plush cushions.
Professor Segul doesn’t answer for several heartbeats. I tilt my head up and squint into his stern features. He stares down at me, unimpressed, the way he does when students ask dumb questions in class.
Sweat breaks out across my brow. What did I say? My mind replays the last few seconds. “Are you glaring at me because the answer’s obvious?”
He raises a brow.
“Hey.” If I could muster up the energy to prod him in the chest, I would, but my arms feel like lead. “Just because a girl gets drunk, that doesn’t mean she’s asking to be hijacked.”
“Nobody hijacks, as you quite eloquently put it, what belongs to me,” he says.
My skin tightens, although I can’t tell if that’s from the intensity of his stare or his declaration of ownership. Memories from the night before trickle through my cacophony of pain. They’re mostly of Axel and Veer flirting from the stage, and Professor Segul’s date with Dr. Raring.
“What were you doing with the marketing lecturer?” I ask.
“We had this conversation last night,” he replies, his voice filled with dark amusement.
“I don’t remember.”
“You wouldn’t.”
My teeth clack together. “Were you on a date?”
“With Dr. Xander as well?”
“I don’t know.” My gaze drops to the ivory quilt that’s made of tiny squares of raw silk.
Ugh. My lungs deflate with a boulder of embarrassment. I’m being so cringey right now, especially when what I have with Professor Segul is just an arrangement.
Of course, he would snatch me off the street, I bloody sold myself to him at £2,000 a month.
“Forget about it,” I mutter.
“Miss Stahl,” his sharp voice slices through my sour mood.
I straighten. “Yes, sir?”
“Dr. Xander and I planned to share a cup of coffee on Saturday. As far as I knew it would just be the two of us, talking shop.”
The weight in my chest lightens, and I can finally relax. I gaze up into his laughing eyes and smile.
“How’s your head?” he asks.
