Hurrying down the hall, I let too much time pass, and it’s very possible he’s not there anymore. I fly around the corner, my shoes squeaking on the linoleum floors, and I hear his low voice mixed with another. It’s followed by the soft sounds of laughter, and the skin on my neck prickles.

  Creeping closer, I hesitate outside the door listening.

  “It’s what we call ‘back to school voice.’” A woman is talking to him, but I can tell from her tone, she’s not a student.

  Unexpected jealousy flares to life in my chest.

  “How do I get rid of it?” Dirk’s low voice is slightly hoarse.

  “Don’t talk more than you have to outside class. Eventually, your vocal cords will strengthen and adjust. You’re not used to speaking so much, and being in the auditorium makes you project more than normal.” A crinkling of plastic, and she speaks again. “Here.”

  “Peppermint?” Dirk is skeptical.

  “Hot tea with lemon and honey is also good.”

  “How about a jolly rancher? I like the green ones.”

  “What are you, twelve?”

  Mental note. Knocking softly on the door, I wait as he walks over to open it. My brow tightens with fear. I’m unsure how he’ll react to my being here after last time.

  I’m relieved when a smile relaxes his features. “Miss Lorak, I wasn’t expecting to see you. Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt.” When I speak to him, it’s soft and low, touched with an accent I learned to hide years ago. “I can come back another time.”

  “No, this is a good time. Sharon is my graduate assistant. I’m sure you’ve seen her in class.”

  “Hi, there.” The young woman smiles.

  Her hair is long and dark, straight with bangs. She’s wearing a shirt that hits above her knees, and her tight sweater that shows off her round breasts. When her eyes move to him, I can tell she wants him, and I instantly hate her.

  “Do you need help with the assignment?” he asks me.

  “Yes.” Snapping out of my annoyance, I tilt my head towards his office. “Could we… speak privately? It’s a little embarrassing.”

  “Of course.” He backs up, heading to the door like such a good teacher.

  I pass Sharon the slut, and I don’t even look at her. My eyes are fixed on the muscles in his ass, flexing when he walks. So hot. As before, he puts the large desk between us, sitting in his leather chair.

  My fantasy from last time flashes through my mind, and my neck heats. The place between my thighs flutters, and I almost sigh audibly. How much longer will I have to wait?

  As it is, two weeks isn’t enough. I have to know him better, although we do see each other twice a week in class…

  “What’s on your mind?” He leans forward, taking off his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose before setting them on the desk.

  My tongue slips out to wet my bottom lip. “It’s about the writing assignment.”

  “It’s not due until Thursday.”

  “Last time we spoke, you offered to read over my assignments and give suggestions. Would you still do that for me?”

  “You’ve finished it?” His dark brow rises, and I can’t tell… Is he proud of me?

  Warmth blooms in my stomach that he might be, and I blink down to my bag where my laptop is stored. “I’m worried my English is not very good.”

  The slightest grin curls his full, kissable lips. “Good news—it’s not an English class. I’m not grading you on grammar, but on how well you demonstrate your understanding of the reading assignment.”

  Taking out my laptop, I pull up the assignment. “Would you still look over it for me?”

  His shoulders fall, and he holds out a hand. His shirt sleeves are rolled, and the muscle in his forearm flexes as he takes the device.

  I scoot my chair around to the side of his desk, leaning forward so the V-neck of my top falls open. If he glances up, he should be able to see most of my bare breasts, my taut nipples beneath the fabric.

  Instead his eyes are focused on the screen as he quietly reads, and I glance around his small office, thinking about some way to get his attention.

  “She’s very beautiful.” My voice is quiet, and his eyes flicker from the screen, first to my breasts, then quickly to my eyes.

  “Who is?” He frowns, lifting his glasses and putting them on again.

  Slow down, Reanna.

  “Sharon, your assistant.” I straighten, wrapping my cardigan tighter around my body. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  Placing my laptop on his desk, his eyes level on mine. “Sharon is not my girlfriend, and it’s not your business. I can review your work, or you can visit the writing lab in the library.”

  I’m torn between happiness at the news and despair at his fortitude. “You’re right. It’s not my business.”

  “Now about your paper.” Glasses off again, he slides the device in my direction. “I think your worries are unfounded. You have a good grasp of the language as well as the concepts.”

  I allow myself to smile, pushing my hair behind my ear. “Thank you so much. This means so much to me.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, if that’s all, I've got work to do.”

  I chew my lip, trying to think of another way in. “You must think I’m foolish to be so relieved, but… Have you ever lost someone, Professor Winston?”

  His lips part, and he doesn’t answer immediately. He seems to be choosing his words. “My mother died when I was very young.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Without thinking I place my hand on top of his. He pauses, and I quickly take my hand away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not offended.” But he stands, gesturing as if it’s time for me to go.

  I close the laptop and slide it into my bag, speaking slowly. “I forget sometimes. In my country we’re more open to touch. I miss it… the feeling of connection.”

  “Touch therapy is an emerging area of clinical research.” He’s waiting as I gather my things, still remaining aloof.

  Standing slowly, I attempt to slide the strap of my bag onto my shoulder. It slips, and he catches it quickly, lifting it onto my shoulder for me. His touch is warm, and I lift my chin, wanting him to show me any confirmation he feels this energy simmering between us.

  “I miss my father’s hugs.” My voice is quiet as I speak from my heart. “I scroll on my phone, chat with friends, get advice, but what I miss most is that one simple thing I’ll never have again.”

  As I say the words, I ache at how true they are.

  His eyes hold mine. Clean citrus touches my nose, and he’s not pushing me away or throwing up walls now. He’s looking into my soul.

  “Honestly, I miss my mother’s hugs.” His voice is gentle, as if something shifted.

  “You must be lonely… like me.” The words hang in the air, and we’re so close.

  Swaying, I hold my breath, dying for him to move, to pull me into his arms and hug me so tightly, something we both want and miss. I know it would be amazing.

  Loud voices erupt in the hall, and the spell breaks.

  He takes a step back, going to the door and opening it. “I’ll see you in class, Miss Lorak.”

  Sharon is gone, and I drop my chin, acknowledging defeat as I softly pass him. “Goodbye, professor.”

  He closes the door, and I pull my cardigan even tighter around my body. It’s ridiculous for me to want to cry, but I do.

  7

  Dirk

  Fire is in my veins, and I move fast, switching the lock on the door.

  Going to the small bathroom behind the bookcase in my office, I slam the door, quickly lowering my jeans to relieve the pressure.

  I scoop up the tube of hand cream beside the soap dish on the small sink. A little lube, and I grasp my hard cock, bracing my other hand on the wall and closing my eyes.

  Her taut nipples are at my lips, and I pull them into my mouth, biting and tugging at her breasts as I slide my hands down her back and over her round ass.

  In my mind, I stand in front of her, rising to my full height. Her head is at my shoulders, and her eyes flash with defiance. She knows exactly what she’s doing, licking her full lips, studying my crotch.

  I place my hands on her shoulders. “Get on your knees.” It’s a hoarse order, fueled by weeks of denial.

  She blinks up at me, blue eyes round as she obeys. Her face is at my cock, and her eyes are on mine as she lowers her jaw, extending her tongue flat and placing it at the base of my shaft, dragging it to my tip.

  “Fuck,” I groan as orgasm flares hotter in my pelvis.

  I’ve pretended to be immune to her, and every day that passes, every day she sits in my class watching me, undressing me with her eyes, I’m in a perpetual state of frustrated desire.

  This isn’t happening.

  Only it is.

  She wraps her lips around my tip, pulling my cock farther into her mouth, and sucking. My hand moves faster, and I grow angrier, rage fueled by need.

  “You want to fuck me for an A?” I growl, threading my fingers in her hair and hitting the back of her throat with my dick.

  She blinks fast attempting to nod as she holds her breasts, lifting them and pinching her nipples as I fuck her face.

  “Then you’d better give me your best effort.”

  I’m not safe, and she knows it. She’s playing with fire, and if she’s not careful, I’m going to use her the way she’s begging me to. Her head bobs faster, her hands wrapping around my hips, moving to my ass.

  “Fuck…” I growl as heat turns to fire in my lower stomach, and my orgasm shakes me to the core. “Fuck, Reanna…”

  It’s a ragged groan, and I lean my head against my arm as jets pulse from my cock into the open toilet. My knees are weak as I tug slower, coaxing the last drops of come from my body. God, it’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid.

  Grinding my jaw, I reach forward to quickly flush the evidence away and reach for a towel to clean my hands. What the hell, Dirk?

  Stepping to the sink, I turn on the hot water and grab the soap. I wash my hands roughly, scrubbing my skin as if I actually touched her body. Her young body, her perky nipples, her dewy skin…

  She’s a fucking child.

  She’s twenty-two, my rebellious brain argues.

  “She’s a fucking student,” I say out loud to shut it down.

  Great. Now I’m talking to myself.

  I need to get out of here. Snatching my bag off the desk, I storm out into the hall and into the quad, glancing at the lowering sun. It takes less than ten minutes to get from my office to my faculty house.

  I drop my bag on the table and head straight to my bedroom where I strip out of my clothes and quickly pull on shorts and a tee. I have an hour until sunset, and I slip AirPods in my ear and set off at a rapid clip.

  Running is the only way to kill this tension, so I run until I don’t feel it anymore.

  The sun is down, and I’m slick with sweat when I get back to my apartment. Halfway through my run, I stripped off my tee. It’s fall, but it’s still a little warm, and I had already soaked through the thin cotton. Now I toss it near the plastic laundry bin.

  Crossing my empty kitchen to the fridge, I grab a bottle of water, rip off the top, and drink it all in one long gulp. My hand is braced on the door, and I lift my head, looking around the empty room.

  You must be lonely… like me. Her voice echoes in my ears.

  With another growl, I slam the refrigerator door and head for the shower.

  Showered and changed, I flick on the TV, looking for anything to distract my mind. After going through three different streaming services and not finding anything, I pick up my phone.

  I can’t call Hutch. I don’t want to hear him say I told you so.

  Blake is always easy to talk to, but she’ll feel obliged to tell Hutch, and that gets me back to where I started.

  Glancing at the clock, I see it’s ten, so I decide to start with a text. How’s it going, little mama? Any movement on the baby front?

  Checking in on my pregnant sister-in-law is not out of the ordinary. It doesn’t signal I’m stressed or dealing with a hot-as-sin student who I really, really want to fuck.

  Luckily, my phone buzzes with a quick response. Hey, handsome! Baby’s just growing. We miss your face around here. What’s new at school?

  The fist in my chest relaxes. Why do I believe if anyone would understand what I’m going through right now, it would be Hana?

  Because it’s true.

  Still, I’m not about to burden her with my irresponsible shit. Feel like talking?

  A few seconds pass, and my phone vibrates in my hand, indicating a call. I press the green button and Hana’s sweet, slightly high, breathy voice is in my ear.

  “Hey, what’s up with you?” A light laugh is in her tone, and I almost forget how fucked-up I was feeling when I sent her a lifeline.

  “Just needed to hear a familiar voice.”

  “Oh, no! Are you homesick? We’re only an hour away if you want to drive back for the weekend. We’d all be so glad to see you.”

  “Now why didn’t I think of that before?” I sound like I’m joking, but I’m actually pretty serious.

  I could drive back to Hamiltown, spend some time away, see if that helps me get my head straight.

  “You just need to be reminded how much you’re loved around here.”

  A half-smile curls my lips. Hana’s been through so much, and yet she’s so ready to give love. I guess that’s how it works. Those who suffer the most know how important reassurance is.

  “Maybe I’ll drive home this weekend. I would like to see how much you’ve grown.”

  “I’m getting bigger, but not so big I have to sleep sitting up. Yet.”

  A low voice in the background draws my attention. “Is that Scar?”

  “The man himself. Want to say hi?” A scuffing sound is in my ear, and I’m pretty sure she passed the phone.

  The next sound is the low voice of my partner. “How’s it going, bro? Punched any kids yet?”

  “Not even close,” I laugh, and he exhales a chuckle.

  “Glad to see you’re controlling that temper. You know, self-control is a sign of maturity.”

  “Then I’m the most mature person you know.” He has no idea. “Although there is this one professor who’s annoying as fuck.”

  “Bro, you’re supposed to make friends with the professors. They’re your coworkers.”

  “So far my only friends are the dean and my graduate assistant. Oh, and this one student who I’m pretty sure wants to get in my pants.”

  That gets me a loud laugh. “Only one? Or is she the only one who interests you?”

  Shaking my head, I can’t believe he called me on it. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this line of work.”

  “Listen.” Scar’s voice turns serious. “You can’t help who you’re attracted to. What you can do is figure out if it’s simple lust or something more. I’m speaking from experience. Don’t shit where you eat… unless you’re sure it’s the real deal.”

  My eyes squeeze, but I hear him. I know Scar wrestled with his feelings for Hana for six months before he ever even kissed her.

  “Thanks, man. I knew you’d understand.”

  “I’m here if you need me.”

  Hana’s voice calls in the background. “We love you, Dirk!”

  Warmth calms the storm brewing in my chest. “I love you guys.”

  8

  Reanna

  “You stole it!” Hot tears blind my vision, but I continue searching, ripping the cushions off the couch and throwing the pillows aside. “Give it back!”

  “I don’t have it.” Her impudent nose is in the air like it always is.

  “You always wanted it. You took it, now give it back.”

  She stands with her arms crossed watching me like I’m an annoying pest. The more agitated I get, the happier she grows until a cruel smile curls her lips, and she cuts her eyes to the fire.

  “It’s gone.”

  I scream so hard my chest quakes. My little doll, my tiniest matryoshka, the one thing I treasured, that I brought from my father’s house. I held it in my hand as I fell asleep every night… Now it’s burning in the fire.

  Pain cuts through my chest, and I fall to my knees in front of the flames. I would shove my hand in and save her if I could. I’m crying, ragged breaths shuddering from my throat.

  Strong hands, grown-up hands, grip my shoulders to stop me from screaming. They shake me, but they’ll never make it right.

  She destroyed it, like she destroys everything.

  Now I have nothing left of him.

  Nothing.

  “It’s all gone. I have nothing…” I’m sobbing, repeating the words over and over as the dream fades.

  “It’s okay, Re-re, I’m here.”

  A gentle hand strokes the side of my head, and I sit up fast, kicking my feet and scrambling against the wall beside my bed. Blinking fast, I look all around, disoriented.

  “Where…” I almost ask where I am before I realize I’m in my dorm room at Thornton, not my uncle’s lavish living room with the Persian rugs and velvet armchairs and Tiffany lamps and all the hate.

  “Oh my God.” Dropping my face in my hand, I feel the dampness on my cheek, and I quickly wipe the tears off my face. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

  Ali presses her lips together, and I know she wants to say something. I tilt my head and give her a look that says Don’t.

  “I’m here if you need to talk.”

  “Thanks.” Climbing out of the bed, I go straight to our small bathroom and turn on the hot water.

  When it’s finally warm, I scoop handfuls onto my face, trying to calm my jangling insides. I’m stronger than this. I survived Natasha’s cruelty already. She doesn’t have power over me now.

  Only it’s not true. I’m here on her orders. She’s still calling the shots.

  But it’s for my purposes. I have my own agenda, and she can’t stop me.

  More water, I hold my hands against my face trying to calm myself. Get it together.