Page 207 of Forbidden Lessons

“Rather this than your lips.”

As I’m closing the door, footsteps crunch over the gravel drive behind me.

“Leaving so soon, Bastian?”

I turn, closing the door so the interior light switches off. Dean Winslow halts a few feet away, a mink stole draped over her elbows, a black umbrella in one hand, her clutch in the other.

Her entire outfit is black. With her upturned nose and attempt at a regal stare, she reminds me a little too much of Morticia Adams. Especially with those dark, crimson lips.

“Have a heap of assignments to grade this weekend,” I say, dragging a finger over my forehead as rain trickles down my face.

She nods, her eyes dropping to my chest, then my hands. “Are they behaving themselves out there?”

I glance down, my eyes sliding shut.

There’s body paint all over the front of my damp tux. My hands are coated in it. If there was a UV light around, I’d be lighting up the dark like fucking Chernobyl.

“I’m sure it’ll get rained out soon.”

“Here’s hoping,” she says primly. “This was supposed to be a private affair for the Greeks so they can blow off some steam before midterms.”

“Give these children a finger and they take the whole damn hand,” I say with a chuckle.

Her upturned nose lifts a quarter inch as she gives me another interrogatory scan. “If you weren’t so wet and…bright, I’d offer you a nightcap.”

I wipe the rain off my forehead again. “And I’d have accepted, but unfortunately, I wasn’t joking about those assignments, Yolanda.”

“Yes, well, off you go then.” She glances up at the sky with obvious distaste. “And be careful. Everything’s going to be slippery for a while.”

I roll my lips together, nod. She gives me a frown and struts over to her black Mercedes S-Class a few yards away. I watch her go, giving her a wave when she turns to climb behind the wheel.

Her headlamps illuminate me and the curtain of rain falling between us. I have no idea if she can see Haven in the passenger seat, but if she can, she doesn’t stop to say anything.

“Trouble from the fucking word go,” I mutter as I slide into the driver’s seat. “You make me wish corporal punishment was still a thing.”

Haven rolls her head against the headrest to look at me.

“Hiiii,” she coos.

There’s body paint all over the edges of the seat where she’s been rubbing her hands over the red leather.

“Could you not do that?”

“Okay,” she says, giving me a lopsided smile.

Her hands don’t even pause.

Goddamn molly.

“Okay, girl, let’s get you the fuck out of here before someone thinks I’m abducting you.”

She laughs. “You are.” And then, as if she remembers why the hell I’m in her car in the first place, she lifts a hand to her throat, aiming for the collar.

I grab her wrist. “You’re safe now, Haven. We’re going to the hospital, we’re going to get that thing cut off, and you’ll be fine.”

“Hospital!” Her big, black eyes widen even more. It’s hard to tell they’re even blue. “Fuck. I knew I was dying.”

Christ.

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