Page 21 of Kept

I was saved from snapping at him (we were watchingDirty Dancing, not that it was any of his business) when the bells chimed. I tossed all my things in my bag and practically bolted into the hallway, almost running face-first into Rhett.

Of course my heart kicked up like a storm of birds trying to escape my ribs.

“Professor Harlow,” I breathed, still tasting sugar and the pressure of his lips on mine, but he didn’t smile. His face was hard, forged from iron and set in stone.

“Report to Professor Spears over your lunch break, Miss Fawkes.”

My stomach sank. To my dismay, it wasn’t because Professor Spears had obviously requested his Pet’s attendance.

It was because Rhett was looking at me like he’d never seen me before. A perfect stranger.

I wanted to sink into the floor.Why?How did someone who could fuck me on a table in plain sight and blackmail me with it make me feel like I wanted to shrivel up and die?

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, losing my voice again.Welcome back, mouse.

He stepped around me, like he was a stream and I was the pebble interrupting his perfect flow, and continued down the hall.

Rachelle might be distracted by her new project, but Sean would no doubt ask why I looked like I was this close to crying, and that was one question I had no good answer for. I strode down the hall, forcing myself to take deep breaths. I knew what he was. His inexplicable coldness towards me shouldn’t mean a thing.

The Hall of Art was mostly deserted, a few students straggling their way into class. I found the door with Professor Spears’ name on it and slipped inside, relieved to find it was empty. It must’ve been his lunch break. It was a wide, amphitheater-like room, with a solid white table at the front draped in cloth. That must be where his live models posed for the students.

The office door in the back was cracked open. I knocked once, torn between the hope that he wasn’t there, and a strange thrill of excitement that we were all alone and he wanted something from me.

God, I was as perverse as they were.

“Come in.” His deep voice echoed through the empty room. “Close the door behind you.”

My stomach was a twisted mass as I obeyed his order and turned to see Professor Superman reclined behind a broad desk, looking me over from head to toe.

He raised a hand and crooked a finger, calling me closer. His handsome face didn’t so much as crack when he did it. A slew of paperwork was spread across his desk, and I recognized the scrawl at the bottom as my own signature. It was my scholarship contract.

Instead of sitting in the chair across from him, I crept behind his desk, pausing a solid foot away from him. He didn’t move an inch, but tapped on the paper on the furthest side of the desk. “I’m required by the Committee to ensure you understand the terms of financial aid for each semester.”

I had no choice but to move closer to him to see the paper he was talking about, my hip brushing his arm as I leaned over. The cold bastard was doing this on purpose.

“You’ll need to see me to sign a new contract every quarter. With the number of students who can’t handle the course load here, we operate on a semester-by-semester basis, rather than a yearly one.” I almost jumped when warm fingers brushed the back of my knee, the gentle touch almost a tickle. “Of course, you’re under my observation as well. If at any time I’m displeased with your progress or feel you’re not a good fit for Bourdillon, we’ll need to re-evaluate the contract.”

My abdomen felt like it’d been stuffed with a ten-pound bag of ice, a stark contrast to the heat against my legs. His fingers trailed upwards, skimming bare thigh under the hem of my skirt.

There was no way in hell I was going to do anything to displease my beneficent overlords, not when so much rode on my success here. “Sounds fair to me. I’ve given you…almostno reason to believe I’m not a good fit.”

I looked down at him while I spoke. His head was at a level with my chest, and his hand had definitely drifted past the hem. He pressed his whole hand flat against the back of my leg, the heat of his palms warming my skin only inches from the crease of my ass.

He smiled at my words. It was so hard to get a smile out of this ice king, and when I did, it really felt like the sun rising. For a moment, he was Superman again with genuine amusement in his bright blue eyes.

I wondered how he’d look with that perfect blue-black hair all rumpled from roaming hands.

“If anything, you’ve given me a very good reason to believe you are.” He gently pushed my leg, nudging me forward. I somehow ended up wedged between him and his desk, and when his hands found my hips and pulled me down, a silent order, I sat without hesitation.

Right in the ice king’s lap.

He shifted under me, his hips moving upwards, and a chill ran down my spine when I felt how hard he was. “Sign here, Jane. It’s documentation that we’ve discussed the nuances of financial aid and your understanding.”

Professor Spears reached around me to snag a pen off his desk and press it in my hand. I paused to look over the document before I signed, the pen as heavy as a brick and poised over the signature line.

There was really no reason to read over the document this thoroughly, but his cock was throbbing under my ass, and I felt a hand on the dress’s zipper at the back of my neck. The sound of the metal teeth separating filled the silence and cool air touched my naked skin as the fabric parted.

Warm fingertips dispelled the cold. He traced a line down my spine, his thumb lingering over each ridge of my vertebrae. A blot of ink formed on the signature line, and I lifted the pen with a shiver.

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