Page 76 of Switching Graves

There’s no room for argument in my tone. With my lips set in a straight line, I slowly pour myself another glass of wine, as if we’ve got all the time in the world.

Thankfully, she obeys my command. Reluctantly. Her eyes remain fixed on the floor as she falls into the seat with a huff. I can’t say what it is about her in this state that riles me so much. I prefer the snarky, bold version I’ve witnessed when she had no idea I was looking. The one who had no issue speaking her mind.

It seems as if she reserves this pliant side of herself only for me as her own little act of rebellion. That’s the only excuse I can come up with when I’ve made it crystal clear that her submission pisses me off.

She hates me. Whether from how I’ve treated her from day one, or because I witnessed what she considers an embarrassing moment and refuse to allow her to forget it—I don’t know. Either way, I don’t care. She can hate me all she wants, so long as she continues to show up and play our game.

“Don’t start with that again.” I swirl my wine around.

“With what?” she squeaks.

Using my glass to gesture toward her withdrawn posture, I say, “The innocent, docile little act you put on. I know you want to stick that letter opener in my neck right now. Why pretend otherwise?”

Mouth popping open, she rolls her eyes and looks at the sharp object sitting beside me. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

My answer is swift. “I want you to stop lying.”

About your identity. About your innocence. About everything.

“I’m not lying!” Her high-pitched voice echoes through the doorway, off the books and furniture downstairs. I don’t have to reprimand her before she’s snapping her jaw shut in embarrassment.

Anyone could hear us and walk in here to find me sitting less than three feet away from her, half-naked with an erection the size of Texas.

Theycould, but I’ve ensured they won’t.

“I glanced over some of these exams this afternoon. Nearly every student got number sixteen incorrect,” I begin casually, if only to get her attention back on me.

My head knocks back to finish off the last of my wine before I put the glass down beside the stack of papers that brought her here in the first place. I round the front of the desk, settling my backside against the edge.

As a small compromise, I begin lining up the bottom button with its corresponding hole of my dress shirt, tugging it closed. But the rebellious, pissed off part of me keeps my pants undone.

Without taking my eyes off hers, I continue. “I’ll need you to add a section in my lecture notes about that one so I can make sure they’ve got a grasp on it before the final exam.”

She scowls up at me disbelievingly, her embarrassment long forgotten as her emotions play out clear across her face. She doesn’t believe I give a fuck about my students. That’s what she said before.

“Is there a problem?” I prod anyway, hungry for a peek at her feisty side.

Dropping her head, she leans forward to grab a pen from my desk, right beside the letter opener. In her true snarky nature, she swipes her wrist against my thigh as she pulls off a sticky note from the dispenser beside me and I stiffen at the unexpected contact. As if nothing happened, she sticks the note on top of the first exam and begins writing a reminder.

I take the free moment to reign myself back in. I should have fucked Abigail when I had the chance, because the sexual tension between us feels downright diabolical. I truly am masochistic.

With her head down, she seems to regain that spunky confidence back because as she’s scribbling her note, she says, “I had no idea you paid any attention to what concepts your students were grasping. Or maybe it’s just my class that gets neglected.”

“Watch your mouth, Little Nightmare.” It’s a weak threat, and she knows it.

She kicks her chin back up, her lips set in a smug line. “Or what?”

The words fall from my lips without any forethought. “I can easily come up with a few ways to use it instead.”

Her eyes immediately fall to my open pants, lips pursing when she realizes how hard I am again. “That’s a novel suggestion. I don’t think it’s big enough to fully stop me, though.”

Scoffing, I brace my hands on the edge of the desk to stop myself from wrapping them around her neck and testing the theory.

“And you say I’m the inappropriate one.”

“Only one of us is sitting here, fully aroused with their pants undone.” She points the pen toward my groin with a shrug, donning her best attempt at a bored expression.

I chuckle at that, leaning my head backward to stare at the heavens and beg for mercy before I completely ravage this woman in the middle of my office.

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