Page 142 of Teacher's Pet

These are new.

Fresh.

Painful.

His entire body shakes.

And for the first time since he walked back into my life, Noah Ackerman looksafraid.

He doesn’t react the way he did last time.

No anger. No violent outburst.

Instead, his eyes are glazed over, not with alcohol, but with something far worse.

Pain.

Raw, undiluted pain.

Slowly, his fingers curl around my wrist, prying my hand away from his neck with careful precision, like he’s afraid of breaking whatever fragile moment exists between us.

And in that moment, it’s as if every last drop of alcohol vanishes from his system.

His body stills as his breath shudders and his lips tremble.

Then, softly, so softly I barely feel it, he presses a gentle kiss against the skin of my hand.

The touch is light. Reverent.

Like a prayer.

“For two months,” he whispers, voice unsteady, thick with something dangerous.

I don’t move.

I don’t breathe.

“I threw myself into the pits of hell,” he stammers, his breath warm against my skin, his grip trembling. “And all I could think about was this.”

He gasps, his lips parting like he’s struggling to speak.

“Touching you.”

His fingers trace over my palm, as if memorizing the feeling.

“Seeing you.”

His voice breaks on the last syllable.

It wrecks me.

“Noah,” I force out, throat aching.

“What happened?”

His lips press into a tight line.

His eyes flicker, something unreadable moving through them... something fractured.

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