Page 100 of Forbidden Lessons

Fuckingasshole.

“I’m not a victim,” I say through gritted teeth. “I fought back.“

Now there are tears in my eyes, and God, that makes me mad. Sure, I had to throw this guy a fucking bone of some kind, because why the hell else would I have pitched up at his house like I did?

But I don’t want his protection.

I don’t want his passive-aggressive sympathy.

Or do I?

My face goes slack. I blink away my tears.

Is that why I came here? As some misguided cry for help? Or g

What the fuck was I thinking?

Professor Rooke eyes me. “Leaving already? Don’t let me stop you. You’re obviously eager to get back to your car.”

My startled blink has nothing to do with keeping back tears. “Excuse me?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Where you sleep?”

The room flickers through my trembling lashes. “Kai told you?” I whisper.

“Kai?” His gaze darts to my neck, and I can see realization dawn on his face. “Kai.”

“No! That’s got nothing to do with this.” I shake my head violently as I storm back to him. “It was your stupid fucking game. He read out the secret Melissa wrote about me in front ofeveryone.”

My professor doesn’t seem intimidated when I poke him in the chest. I guess he could take me down without breaking a sweat.

Unlike Kai. I gave that loser a run for his money.

“In class?”

“Yes, in class!” I throw up my hands. “He ran the lesson because you decided you had somewhere else to be today.”

There’s a chunk of hair in my face, and I try to huff it away in annoyance, but it just falls back.

“I haven’t spoken with Kai today.”

My eyes flicker over Professor Rooke’s face, hunting for a lie. But there’s nothing there. Just a stoic mask. Guess the coffee sobered him up. Or maybe all this talk about assault and rape.

“Then how the fuck did you know?” I whisper.

“When I visited your address, and you weren’t there,” he says calmly.

He might as well have punched me in the stomach. Air leaves my lungs, and I barely keep from flopping onto the couch like a bag of dry cleaning.

“You did what?”

He carefully reaches for me, and I’m so fucked in the head, I let him hold on to my wrist. As cautious as if he’s handling a newborn lamb, he backs up, tugging until I follow.

“Did you really think AHC would award someone a grant without doing a background check on them first?”

The words ring in my ears like a slap.

Background check.

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