Page 13 of Ruthless Temptation
I want to rage and shout and scream and kick and cry, but I don’t.
Instead, I retreat to the safety of the bathroom and run myself a hot bath. Cassidy and I have been roommates since our very first day here. It wasn’t by choice, but I welcomed the idea of making a new friend.
After all, I was thousands of miles away from home in a new, unfamiliar country.
But Cassidy and I are different in every way. She’s the spoiled only daughter of some snobby British royal. I’m the second daughter of a Colombian mafia don. The only reason we’re even at Saint Frederic University together is because it’s the safest place in the world for us both—the Peace Treaty ensures that nobody can be killed on campus.
Cassidy’s used to being the center of attention. She is used to getting what she wants. In her world, there is little accountability because her father’s wealth and power will make it all go away. It’s not like that for me. In my world, your word is your bond. We protect each other with our lives, and we would sooner choose death than the dishonor of being known as a snake.
At first, I thought I could look past our differences.
Now, I’m not so sure. This feels like the beginning of the end of our friendship, and I don’t think she knows, or if it even matters to her. I connect my phone to the Bluetooth speaker andput on my favorite band. When the bath is full of steaming hot water, I add a bath bomb and sink into the inviting water.
I close my eyes, hoping that a soak will quell my troubled mind and get rid of the pent-up tension in my bones. Yet, all I can think of as I lay naked in the tub is what it would be like if Professor Holmes were here with me.
Would he bend me over the edge of the counter and fuck me, or would he want to take me while we’re standing in the shower? Would he come on my face if I asked, or would he prefer to see me swallow it all?
My thoughts are absolutely unhinged, but I don’t even try to stop them. I’ve suppressed myself for far too long. When I open my eyes, I realize I’ll never have peace unless I see this through to the end.
Whatever that end may be.
6
The following week,I wake up two hours early to get dressed for Professor Holmes’ class.
Since the blowup I had with Cassidy, things have been tense. We’ve stopped walking to classes together, stopped getting lunch together and it feels like she goes out of her way to avoid me. Her absence in my life is noticeable—despite my mixed feelings on Cassidy, she was the closest friend I had here on campus.
Saint Frederic University is a fickle place, and apart from her, I never really made it in with the in-crowd. I only barely made it through the horrific initiation, and even then, I’m not like the other girls here. They try to be as blond, as thin, as perfect as they can be. I prefer my hair a little darker—but we’re all supposed to be blond, so there’s really only so much I can do—and I would rather wear darker clothes, too.
I’m bound by the Hemlock House dress code now that I am a part of the sisterhood.
As I walk to the lecture hall, my thighs rubbing against my bare pussy, I consider that in some respects this place is a prison as well. Not so much as my life back in Colombia was. Well,willbe. There are still lines I can’t cross, things I’m not supposed to do.
Which is why this secret between Professor Holmes and I is so electrifying.
There’s just something so mind-blowing about knowing that even here, with so much on the line for both of us—even though he doesn’t know just how much this is a risk for me—we’ve decided to act on our desires. A little voice in my mind tells me I should be disgusted that he’s wanted me all this time.
But I can’t even listen to it because I’ve wanted him all that time too.
Probably even longer, if you consider the fact that my eyes have lingered on his broad shoulders and toned arms since orientation day. I take a deep breath, adjusting my hair and makeup before striding into his class as calmly as I can manage.
I’m ten minutes early.
Professor Holmes is already in the room, busy prepping the board for his lesson. Today, he’s dressed in a slate-colored silk shirt that hangs from his muscled back like an art piece. His tailored slacks fit his body like a second skin, with an Italian leather belt and a matching pair of shoes completing the outfit.
When he turns around, my heart leaps.
His hair is styled differently today—clipped at the sides and longer on top. It shows off the more aggressive features of his face, like his austere cheekbones and those lithe lips that punished me so wickedly just a few days ago. He’s let his facial hair grow longer than usual too.
Something rumbles low in my belly when I consider that this change is probably for me.
I make my way to the front of the class, sinking into the seat that was mine before my life all fell to shit. I push the thoughts of my life and impending doom out of my mind. Instead, I try tofocus on the next hour—I get to watch Professor Holmes in his element.
And he gets to watch me.
I sink into my seat and start to get my materials out for class.
It’s another few minutes before Professor Holmes’ eyes land on me. He’s standing over his desk, licking his fingers to thumb through the stack of papers. The attention is brief, but intense. His tongue darts out from between his lips to coat the pad of his thumb, and a shiver runs through me.
