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I close the box and head out the door, clicking it shut behind me. I plan on taking the bus back to campus. But when I step outside, I see Evan’s driver from last night waiting for me. He’s leaning against the limo, a book in his hand.
He closes the book, looks up at me and touches the shiny bill of his chauffeur hat. “Miss Swanson,” he says.
I smile tightly and tug on the hem of my dress, suddenly embarrassed at the realization that I’m completely bare underneath and somehow this driver knows about every dirty thing that went on in that beach bungalow.
I’d never really understood the phrase “walk of shame,” but now I get it. I totally get it.
The driver opens the door for me and smiles. If he’s secretly passing judgment on my moral character, he doesn’t show it. “I’ve been instructed to take you anywhere you’d like to go, miss.”
“Just back to Harper House, where I live. Thanks,” I manage.
Once home, Sam launches off the couch toward me as soon as I open the door. “There you are! Nice mysterious midnight text, ‘Don’t wait up. I’m fine.’ Soooo, what happened? Tell me everything.” Her eyes are aglow, but she lowers her voice. “Did you sign the contract? Did you have sex with him?”
Her questions hit me in a tidal wave of excitement. I toss my clutch down on the couch and gingerly sink down next to it. I’m still sore from him. I wasn’t a virgin but I hadn’t had sex in years and I’d never ever been fucked like that. Four times in one night—and that didn’t even count the numerous times he’d fucked me with his fingers and his tongue. Not even in our randiest post-drunken teenage party moments had I approached that with Jason. “I signed.” I sigh. Suddenly I’m exhausted. “And the sex was…incredible.”
I’ve marked you.
His words flit through my mind again and the flood of heated arousal washes over me. I swallow, remembering the feel of his teeth on my nipple, his cock moving deep inside me, as he brings me to my umpteenth orgasm that night.
Sam claps her hands together and laughs. “I knew it! The guy looks like he knows his way around a clit.”
I want to deny it, but I can’t. “He definitely knows what he’s doing.” I sigh. “I need to get out of these clothes and get some studying done. My exam is Friday.”
I’ve got five solid days to study, and I need to stay focused, which is easier said than done with an unbearably sexy billionaire taking possession of my body and my life.
Who knows what else he’ll take possession of?
Chapter 17
Punishment
The call comes at three o’clock in the afternoon. I’m stretched across my bed, studiously trying to figure out why supersonic or hypersonic speeds cannot be solved using a steady solution, when my phone lights up.
The other person on the line is Miriam, Evan’s assistant. She introduces herself and gets some basic information from me—my schedule, my address, my measurements—before telling me the moving van will be here in the morning to box up my stuff and move me to the new house. It’s just a block away, on the other side of campus.
She also informs me that Kohl will see me this Wednesday. I’m on his calendar for six o’clock in the evening. On. His. Calendar. She actually says those words to me. I’m not sure what I’m more horrified about—the fact that my sex life is penciled in on some guy’s calendar, or the fact that his secretary is on the phone telling me about it.
It all feels so cold and impersonal. But maybe that’s a good thing. The fewer emotions that are involved, the better, right?
The next two days pass in a frenzied blur. In between classes and studying, my days are filled with movers, doctor appointments, and a meeting with my new personal shopper. I’m overwhelmed, to say the least, and I start to wonder if maybe this was all a big mistake.
The house he puts me up in is a gorgeous Tudor-style cottage, directly across from the Caltech campus. It’s fully furnished and way too much house for a single person. When I ask Miriam why Evan didn’t just rent me an apartment—which would be far less conspicuous—she tells me Kohl has owned the house for years, since his collaboration with Caltech first began. She also informs me that he’d specifically insisted on me staying there. It makes sense, I guess, for the sake of privacy, for him to want to be in his own house when he visits instead of a much smaller apartment.
And if I’m being honest with myself, the house is fucking gorgeous. The decor is breathtaking—all whites and medium to light-blue tones, giving the house a soothing, airy feel. Along the walls in the living room are hundreds of books, all covering a wide array of subjects—history, physics, mathematics. It’s a scholar’s dream, and I don’t hesitate to pick out a few to read later, after quals.
I don’t hear from Kohl at all until Wednesday—three whole days after our fuck-a-thon at the hotel. I’m sitting outside the cafeteria with Sam and Keith, eating lunch, when a text pops up on my phone. It’s Evan.
I have a meeting downtown at four. I’ll be at the house by six-thirty. Wear the necklace and the red lace.
The red lace. The personal shopper had loaded my dresser drawers with every color of lace imaginable. Not silk, not cotton—just delicate, expensive lace. That’s all I’m permitted to wear. Apparently Kohl has a thing for it.
I put my phone down on the table and return to my pizza. Taking a bite, I savor it. True to his word, Kohl had put money on my student spending account, almost twenty grand. Just days ago, I’d been living off ramen noodles, and now I could afford to eat whatever I want. I’m going to enjoy it while I can.
Sam lifts a brow in question. “Was that who I think it was?”
I slide a glance at Keith, who’s trying to look disinterested, but I can tell he’s curious. I just nod tightly.
Anticipation swirls in my stomach. I can’t help it. It’s been days since Kohl has touched me, and my body is aching for it.
