Page 41 of Ruined Wolfsbane

When the door closes, I lean my head back against Sebastian. I stare at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, emotionally drained from today.

After a few moments, I realize I’m plastered against him. I can feel every inch of Sebastian, including his hard dick digging into my ass and lower back. My cheeks heat at unintentionally feeling him up with my butt. Flustered, I say, “Sorry, Professor.” I cringe as soon as the words come out of my mouth.

He’s asked me before not to call him “professor.” Now really isn’t the time to bring up that whole problem. That’s one mess we can deal with later.

Besides, being reminded he’s my professor might cause Sebastian to do something awful, like put on a shirt, and, boy, would that be a shame.

Sebastian groans behind me. “I took off your shirt, have my hand wrapped around your throat, and my hard cock shoved against your ass. For the love of God, Briar, just call me Bastian.”

All good points. “I can do that,” I squeak.

“Good.” Bastian rests his chin on my head. “But that is a first.”

“What is?” I ask, my forehead wrinkling in confusion.

“It’s the first time a girl’s apologized after feeling my dick,” he informs me smugly.

A laugh bubbles up at his declaration. “Oh, wow. I see why you’re so jacked. You have to lug around your massive ego all day.”

Bastian barks out a surprised laugh from behind me.

Even Xander snorts. I’ve only seen him smile or laugh a handful of times. I feel on top of the world breaking Xander’s cool façade, even for a moment. My own lips stretch into a wide grin at his amusement.

“The lady’s got jokes,” Bastian says into my hair when he stops laughing.

“You know it.”

“Can I look under your bandage, Briar?” Xander asks, walking closer. My breath hitches as he stops less than a foot from me. It’s overwhelming being sandwiched between the two of them.

“Sure.” Reaching down, I rip the bandage off with a quick flick of my wrist. I wince at the tape pulling out hairs as it comes off.

“Jesus. I was going to take it off slowly for you,” Xander tells me. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Whoops. I thought he was telling me to do it.

Xander then looks down at my bloody and torn stitches. “Whoever stitched you up did a piss-poor job.”

Taking in the wavy line of stitches and subpar knotwork, I can’t help but agree. “It’s not my best work.” A monkey tripping on LSD would probably do a better job. Oh well. I don’t really scar, so it’s not a big deal.

Xander’s eyebrows rise. “You stitched yourself?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like anyone else was going to.” Patrick doesn’t care if I survive his beatings. He’s certainly not going to shell out money for someone else to stitch me up. If I don’t want to bleed out, I have to do it myself.

Raking his hand through his hair, Xander glances away for a moment. Blowing out a breath, he turns back to me. “What did you use to suture the wound?”

“Sewing thread.”

“Bet that hurt like a bitch,” Xander comments matter-of-factly.

I huff out a laugh. “What a great bedside manner you have, doc,” I tease him. “I was barely conscious. I don’t remember the pain, just how gross it was.” I’ve had to stitch myself up dozens of times. It’s still disgusting playing with my own mangled skin and muscle.

“Fuck,” Xander mutters while shaking his head. “Can you get my suture kit from my office, Bastian?”

“Sure thing, twinnie. I’ll also grab some arnica cream for your bruises, pretty girl.”

“Don’t call me that,” Xander grumbles as Bastian turns to leave. “Are you going to put on a shirt? We are still at school.”

“Nah. The place is deserted, and I’m sure Briar will appreciate something pretty to look at while you fix her up.” Bastian winks at me. I snort at his over-the-top confidence. He’s not wrong, though. He is very nice to look at.

Shaking his head as Bastian saunters out of the office, Xander fixes his startling green gaze on me again. “You want me to redo all the stitches? Or just the ones that broke?”

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