Page 393 of The Winslow Brothers

All that power pushes me over the edge, right over the cliff and into an abyss of ecstasy I didn’t even know was possible. And atthe peak of my climax, Ty twists the plug at my ass and buries himself as deep as he possibly can.

You’re everything,my mind hears. I can’t distinguish if the words came from his lips or my imagination, but they’re there…willing my heart to explode.

Monday, March 11th

Rachel

I step out of the small, intimate space where my nine a.m. Thesis Workshop is located and make a mental note to stop at the library before I leave for the day. Lord knows after Dr. Fink’s lecture this morning, I’m going to need to do a little more research before I can really finalize my thesis for his class.

Ugh. Take me back to spring break.

I pull my cell out of the front pocket of my messenger bag to check the time. I see it’s only five past eleven, plenty of time to grab a sandwich, but I also find a missed text message from earlier that makes me smile.

Ty: I want another week of being bad with you.

It’s been less than twenty-four hours since we checked out of the Carlyle, and apparently, I’m not the only one missing the bubble of sex and fun and mischief we created there.

Me: Ditto. So much ditto.

I start to put my phone back into my messenger bag, but it alerts with another text, and I quickly hold up the screen with my smile still intact.

And then it’s gone in one fell swoop.

Dad: Come to my office. We need to talk.

The bubble is officially popped and then some. Not only is it not the man I’m expecting, but it’s also ominous.

The realization of the reality I’ve been avoiding so pointedly slaps me right in the face.

I spent the last week not thinking about my father or his expectations or school or the fact that what Ty and I are doing has consequences that reach beyond the two of us.

I don’t know the official university policy, but I do know my dad’s stance on the matter—he made that clear. And as the head of the department, what he says goes.

God, I hope I haven’t been a party to jeopardizing Ty’s career.

Relax, Rachel. You don’t know that’s what this is. You don’t know what he wants to talk about.

My pep talk is swift and strong and filled with effort. The problem is, even if this isn’t the time of reckoning now, one day, it’s going to come.

I inhale a big breath, forcing myself to text my father back.

Me: What time?

Dad: Now, please.

Ready or not, time to face the music.

Roiling in my gut makes the walk up the two flights of stairs that lead to the faculty offices feel like a climb to the top of the Empire State Building. Trudging down the hall, I work diligently to calm the racing speed of my heart.

It’s time to get prepared—prepared to go to war for myself if I have to. The best way to do that is by removing the element of surprise.

I can do this. I’m ready.

His door is partially closed when I arrive at the end of the hall, so I push it open with a soft knock—only to nearly fall on my ass.

Fuck prepared; I’m blindsided.

Because not only is my father in his seat behind his massive desk, but Ty is sitting down in one of the leather chairs on the front side. This isn’t a meeting with me—it’s a meeting withwe.

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