Page 122 of Forbidden Lessons

Fuck meditation. Drink wine.

“How is it?”

I snap my gaze away from Bastian’s mesmerizing fireplace, and into his even more entrancing eyes. We’re on the sofa. Me curled up in one corner, him with his legs stretched out on the other.

He seems taken aback by my frown. “How do you always know what I’m thinking?”

The ice cubes in his bourbon clink against the glass as he leans his head back to laugh. “I have a masters in psychology, philosophy, and anthropology. I’ve been teaching for years, andI even ran a private practice at one stage. I’ve been figuring out what goes on inside other people’s heads for over two decades.”

“But you’re only thirty-four.”

“My interest in psychology began long before I entered college.”

I nod at this, and have to look away because I’m blushing again. It happens whenever I stare at Bastian for too long, even when he’s not looking back. It’s worse when we lock eyes, of course. Then other parts of my body overheating, and tingling, and aching.

“You never answered my question?”

“Huh?” I look down at my wine glass. It looks so damn elegant in my fingers. “Oh, yeah, I mean, I can see what all the fuss is about, for sure.”

“People are making a fuss over chardonnay?”

My gaze is dragged unwillingly back to him. He’s watching me with a tilt to his head. Oh, God, of course he’s not asking me how I’m findinggetting tipsy. He wants to know if I like the wine.

“No, ha, I mean, I’ve never had chardonnay before, but I’ve heard it’s good if you like white wine.”

He slides his ankle over his knee, turning a little to lay the arm holding his bourbon over the back of the couch. “You don’t have to try so hard, Haven. I like you just the way you are.”

It’s such a silly, casual remark. There’s no reason for it to set my cheeks on fire, or make me fumble my glass as I raise it to my lips.

“What about you? What sparked your interest in social work?”

I take another sip, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. “You said you went through my application, but you didn’t read my essay?”

A flash of a rueful smile, like he realizes he underestimated me. “I read your essay. You were quite eloquent about how you planned to rehabilitate Riverside. I especially liked your idea about setting up a community center for kids where they could go in the afternoons and get a meal, do their homework…basically stay out of trouble.” He takes a sip of his bourbon, and my stomach flutters when he locks eyes with me. “You practically wove yourself into a knot to avoid talking about your past.”

I swallow, my thumb stroking the rim of the wineglass. “I prefer looking to the future, not being stuck in the past.”

His eyes narrow, a tightness on his mouth like he’s busy working out how to crack a particularly hard nut. I look away, squirming under that scrutiny, hunting for something to distract me.

There’s a small table near the front door, probably for keys. I didn’t notice it when I came in because when Bastian’s in proximity, the rest of the world fades away.

There’s a pink gift bag on the table, pale tissue paper spilling from the top. The packaging looks a lot cheaper than whatever’s on his desk in the study.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” I say, more sourly than I’d intended.

Bastian blinks like he’s coming out of a daydream, and frowns. “Excuse me?”

I point with my chin.

He glances over his shoulder and then turns back to me with a wide smile. “Well, fuck. I completely forgot.”

“Who the gift was for?” I say dryly as I take another sip of wine. How many girlfriends does Professor Rooke have? Man as handsome as him? As wealthy as him? I’m surprised there isn’t a line out the door.

My glass is almost empty, and I’m wondering if I’d be tempting fate to pour another.

“Careful of that sharp tongue.” He drains his glass as he stands. “You wouldn’t want to cut yourself.”

There’s a laugh in his voice, so I giggle. But as he walks to the door, my body goes cold. Instead of taking his seat, Bastian brings the gift bag to me where I’m sitting, stopping so close to the sofa that I’d probably kick him if I tried to swing my legs over to stand.

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