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I rip myself off her with a ragged groan and an angry growl.
“Stop. I can’t.”
“But you want to?”
“No,” I snap, bad-tempered. “I don’t want anything to do with you. You were right, it was just one night.”
“Your loss,” she says with an unaffected shrug. She puts her épée away in her bag and swings it over her shoulder, heading towards the locker room before pausing. She looks over her shoulder at me. “One thing about me though,professor,” she tosses out at me, her willing emphasis of the last word shooting straight to my dick and making me regret ordering her to call me that. “I know how to keep a secret.”
She walks out without another backward glance or waiting to hear if I have anything to say in response.
I don’t.
???
Chapter 12
Tristan
By the time I make it home, my head is absolutely scrambled.
If I’d met her for the first time in class, I would have been attracted to her but I wouldn’t have had to push myself to the very brink of my control to be able to resist her.
But knowing I’ve been inside her twice and remembering how her tight pussy clenched around my cock as she screamed for me is the ultimate distraction. Every time I let my mind wander, I think of her.
I’m furious that she lied and put me in this position, because how am I supposed to go a year teaching as if she isn’t there and I’m not dreaming of laying her flat on her desk and eating her out again.
I subconsciously lick my lips, an addict searching for a hit and coming up empty. She’d tasted so fucking delicious. I was craving another taste as much as a thirsting man in a desert craves water.
I open the door to my tiny apartment on the bottom floor of a two-story house. It’s a small one bedroom provided by RCA and thankfully just off campus so I can have a modicum of privacy. It hasn’t been updated in about fifteen years but it does the job. It’s not like I have much of a choice.
Dropping my bag by the entrance, I go and sit on the edge of my bed, letting myself fall back onto the mattress.
What a fucking first day.
Seven classes a day of teaching the same boring ass course work to students who are mostly as uninterested in the subject as me.
Among them, the class where I’m going to have to survive Nera’s continued presence.
This year is going to crawl excruciatingly by. Yet again, I can’t help but mentally congratulate my father for his creative punishment. One day in and I can already tell this is going to accomplish exactly what he wanted it to.
I want to go out with my mates. I want to talk to Tess and make sure she and my mum are alright. Hell, I want to wake up in my own bed in my own fucking apartment.
I grab an unopened bottle of bourbon and no glass from the kitchen and head for the couch, settling in and taking a swig straight from the bottle. Oblivion is on the agenda for tonight, as it has been most nights, and I can’t wait for the sweet relief of feeling and thinking nothing.
I should cook myself dinner and do something that I enjoy, through which I can exert the creativity thrashing around in my brain, but I can’t. The further away I get from making my dreams of being a chef a reality, the more I want to distance myself from cooking entirely. After all, why bother?
My phone dings and I reach for it unseeingly, my hand feeling the couch cushions next to me as I look for it. I find it and read the text on my home screen.
Unknown number:is it only the professor thing that’s keeping you from doing this again?
I exhale a long-held breath and lean my head back against the couch. There’s tension in my stomach and shoulders from all the lust trapped inside me with no outlet.
Her texting me is a risk. I should block her or answer her and tell her never to text me again. I should report it to Thornton and tell him this happened before we ever knew who the other was.
I should do a lot of things, but I do none of them.
Instead, I darken the screen and keep drinking. I turn on the TV, looking for something to watch on my sports streaming platform. I’m about to put on the Chelsea game when I see the suggestion right below it.
