Page 45 of Forbidden Lessons

I clamp down on the inside of my lip, desperately trying to think my way out of this. Professor Rooke’s given me a smallbump of courage, enough that I didn’t pee myself as we crossed the threshold.

But the cowardice is starting to set in again.

If Kai sees me…

And I know he will, because he’s Professor Rooke’s fucking TA.

I blow out a breath, not realizing how loud it is in the hushed reception area as we head for the stairs to the first floor.

“It’s hard not to take this personally.”

My head whips to the side, neck craning so I can look up at my teacher. “What?”

He keeps his eyes focused ahead, his strong jaw and sloping nose in stark profile against the cream-colored wallpaper beside him. “I’ve checked in with some of your other teachers. You’ve attended most of their classes. Handed in assignments. You even signed up for an after-hours group discussion for your Urban Studies class.”

Another flush of heat creeps up my neck. How am I supposed to explain to him it was easier going to those classes without the threat of Kai breathing down my neck?

Goddamn it, every time I think about Kai, I tingle.

Not in a cutesy, butterflies in my belly, kind of way, but a lewd and disturbing, I need dick, kind of way.

“Professor Rooke, I wish I could explain, but?—”

There are a few more students around, most hurrying to class. We reach the landing and turn the corner, and when I risk a glance up at Professor Rooke, I wish I hadn’t.

He’s wearing a stony expression. When he looks back at me, his usual warm brown eyes are cold, and his voice is just as unyielding as he searches my face.

“I hate to be dramatic, Miss Lee, but I suggest you try very hard, because your grade is…”

His eyes flinch, and his words trail off.

A student speed-walks past us muttering, “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

Rooke’s eyes dart up to them, then back to me. He grabs my arm and pulls me with him as he backs up into the small seating area on the first landing where I stood staring out the window on my first day at AHC.

The only light in this area comes from the tall, narrow window and whatever makes its way up the stairs from the reception area below. None of it is enough to do more than silhouette us and blur the edges of the shadows between the overstuffed wingback chairs and the small, carved coffee table.

“What’s that?” I guess that’s why Professor Rooke grabs my chin and turns my head to the window. So he can get a better look.

I’m so surprised, I let him. And then I’m too embarrassed to pull away, so he can tilt my face any which way he pleases.

“Um…”

“Is that a bruise?” I’m not imagining the coldness in his voice now. It’s as blatant as a steel rod sticking up through concrete.

Shit, shit, shit.

I pull my chin away, rubbing at the spot. “Is what?”

There’s a soft huff of air that sounds condescending as fuck. “Now you’re trying to gaslight me, Miss Lee?”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, or what that even means. Context, sure. He’s angry that I’m trying to hide something as blatant as a bruise.

“You have no idea how clumsy I am,” I say through a laugh.

He grabs me again, this time on my bottom lip. I pull away so fast it’s like a thousand volts went through me. Because that’s what it felt like.

“Ink stains on your lip, yes. But I know clumsy, and you’re not it.”

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