Page 3 of Meeting Melody
I clear my throat and tuck my hair behind my ears, hurrying to the door. I take a second to smooth my t-shirt, check my face in the mirror in my foyer. My makeup didn’t hold up very well after I cried in my office, but I managed to make it down to the parking garage, and then home without being seen. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath.
I open the door and jerk back.
Jacob Rhodes. He’s got my bag slung over his shoulder, his expression decidedly cocky.
Truth time: my body reacts to his.
It’s stupid, and irresponsible, and horrifying. The fact that he’s standing on my doorstep right now gives me butterflies. When I realize that he’s here forallof the wrong reasons, and I force those butterflies to chill the fuck out.
He wants to pass my class.
I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t have a certain thrill holding that over his head.
“Melody.” He braces his forearm on the doorjamb, leaning in. “Are you going to let me in or just stare at me?”
“Professor,” I automatically correct.
His smirk widens. “Professor Cameron, will you let me in?”
Second time I’ve talked to him face-to-face. He’s intense. Andhuge. I stare up at him and try to think of a way to get him off my porch.
Instead, he strides past me. Inside. He sets my bag down and keeps going.
His head swings side to side as he takes in my home. It’s sparsely decorated, but that isn’t on purpose. I’ve only been teaching for three semesters, and in this house since August. All I’ve done is put up a lame Christmas tree. It has boring, uniform ornaments on it. White string lights. I considered more. Like boughs of holly, or a wreath on my door. But in the end, I couldn’t do it. I don’t have much to celebrate—just to hide.
Lingering in one place for too long could have dire consequences.
Jacob makes some noise in the back of his throat, drawing my attention back to him. Part of me wants to grab him and haul him out. The other side wants to see what he’s planning.
How far he’ll take this.
Temptation has never been your strong point, Mel.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
I squint at Jacob, who approaches with quick, sure steps. I back up, but he doesn’t care. He keeps going, herding me in the direction he wants, until my shoulder blades touch the wall. Even then, he doesn’t stop. He leans down and cages me in, his forearms braced on either side of my head.
“This is inappropriate,” I breathe.
“This is the least inappropriate thing we’ll be doing.” His gaze goes down to my chest, then back up. “Now… Do. You. Have. A. Boyfriend?”
I lift my chin, claiming a bravado I don’t possess. “I do if it makes you go away.”
He chuckles. “It won’t. It’ll just change the terms slightly. But no matter—I’ll find out eventually.”
My body is on fire, and he’s not even touching me. I don’t want him to find out anything about me.
Danger, danger, my mind screams.
I clear my throat. “Terms?”
“Every game has rules, songbird.” He nudges the side of my face with his nose, inhaling sharply. “Fuck, you smell perfect.”
Songbird.
I shudder and put my hands on his chest. When I push, he goes. Until I have breathing room. And the space is refreshing at the same time that it’s dizzying. He’s terrible in my class. Doesn’t do the work, stares at me while I lecture instead of taking notes, seems to skip reading the assigned chapters or just doesn’t give a shit about interpreting.
But his gaze lingers on me in a way that’s completely foreign. It creates a buzz under my skin—like right now. With the way he’s in my space, he’s been in my head for far longer.
