Page 99 of Deviant Obsession

One year later…

Scatteredresearch papers threaten to overtake every inch of my desk, the organized chaos creating a web of cross-referenced pages I somehow need to analyze all at once. I adjust my reading glasses, squinting at yet another dense paragraph about the most prevalent markers of religious trauma in adolescents. My pencil taps against my notepad as I try to focus on extracting relevant quotes for my thesis proposal.

A gentle knock soon breaks my concentration. I glance up to find Dean leaning against the doorframe, a steaming mug of coffee in his outstretched hand. His dark curls are still damp from the shower, T-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders in a way that makes my mouth water.

"Thought you could use a pick-me-up, babygirl." He crosses to my desk, setting the mug beside my elbow before dropping a warm kiss on my cheek. "You've been buried in here for hours."

"My hero." I reach for the tempting caffeine hit, humming appreciatively at the first sip. "Though I suspect you haveulterior motives for checking to make sure I’m almost finished here."

"Can't a guy just bring his girl coffee?" he chuckles. His fingers trail up my arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. "Without being accused of having a hidden agenda?"

"Not when that guy is you." I tilt my head back to meet his teasing gaze. "And not when I know you're planning something for tonight at the club."

Dean's answering smirk sends heat pooling low in my belly. "Maybe I am. But you'll have to wait and see."

"Give me a hint?" I catch his wrist as he starts to withdraw, pulling him back down to eye level. "Please?"

"Nope." He drops another quick kiss on my nose. "But make sure you wrap up by six. I want to take full advantage of every minute I have alone with you."

"No fair." I pout up at him, batting my eyelashes in a way that usually gets me what I want. "Just one tiny clue?"

His laugh rumbles through his chest as he cups my chin. "Those puppy eyes might work on Dad, sweetheart, but I'm immune. Besides..." His thumb traces my bottom lip. "Half the fun is watching you squirm while you wonder what's coming."

"You're evil."

"You love it." He winks, stepping back before I can try another method of persuasion. "Now focus on your work. Can't have you falling behind just because I'm distracting you with promises of playtime."

"Fine." I turn back to my papers with an exaggerated sigh. "But this better be worth all the hype you're building."

"When have I ever disappointed you? Trust me, baby. Tonight will be worth the teasing."

I bite my lip as warmth floods my cheeks, already imagining what delicious torments he might have planned. My mind driftsto our last club visit, when he made me come so many times, I was scared I’d never walk again.

"I see that look." His knowing chuckle snaps me back to the present. "Save those thoughts for later. Your thesis won't write itself."

"You started it," I grumble, but I'm already reaching for my highlighter again. The sooner I finish my work, the sooner I can discover what Dean has in store.

"That's my good girl." He brushes his lips across my temple. "Six o'clock. Don't be late."

I watch him saunter back towards the door, admiring the way his jeans hug his perfect ass. Just before he makes his exit, he tosses one final smirk over his shoulder that has my toes curling inside my fuzzy socks.

"I hope he wasn’t distracting you too thoroughly.” Ethan's deep voice cuts through my daydreaming. He leans against the doorframe where Dean stood moments ago, arms crossed over his broad chest. Though his expression holds amusement, I catch that familiar glint of warning in his icy eyes.

"I was just bringing her coffee!" Dean protests from further down the hall.

"Mhmm." Ethan pushes off the frame, prowling into my study with that predatory grace I've come to associate with impending discipline. "And I'm sure you weren't at all trying to derail her focus while you did it!"

I duck my head, suddenly very interested in reorganizing my highlighters as I try to stifle a giggle. "I'm working hard, I promise."

"Are you?" Ethan's palm lands flat on my desk as he leans over me. "Because your task list specifically outlined completing three chapter summaries before dinner. How many have you finished?"

Heat creeps up my neck as I glance at my barely started notes. "One and a half?"

"I see." His fingers drum against the wood, each tap sending little jolts through my nervous system. "And what did we discuss about maintaining proper discipline while Master is away?"

"That you're in charge of ensuring I stay on track with my protocols." The words come automatically—we've had this conversation several times since Master left for his research trip.

"Exactly." Ethan straightens, fixing Dean with a pointed look where he’s suddenly reappeared in the doorway. "Which means no distractions during study hours. Even if they come with caffeine."

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