Page 18 of Ruthless Temptation
All I can do is gawk at him. He’s changed his clothes as well. He’s in a tailored short-sleeved shirt with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of jeans. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in this kind of relaxed clothing, and it’s like I’ve seen something I shouldn’t have. I can see more of one of his tattoos—though I still can’t make out what it is, there is one word that I would know anywhere:Morte.
He takes the cigarette from his lips with two fingers and offers it to me.
I take it, only because of the nerves building in my chest. Is that the reason why he’s smoking too? Is he as nervous as I am? I take a look at him and find it hard to believe. The newspaper has his rapt attention, and there isn’t even a tic in his jaw.
“You read the newspaper at the end of the day?” I ask, taking a long drag of the cigarette. It burns going down. I resist the urge to cough.
I sidle to the nearest table and slip into the seat.
Professor Holmes lowers it just enough to look at me over the edge. Now that I’m closer, I see it’s a foreign newspaper. An Italian one, to be exact.
“Yes, it’s the only time I get,” he says, pragmatically. “Why? Is there something wrong with that?”
A slight chuckle leaves me. The nicotine has already started to help my frayed nerves. “Everything you’ve read about has already happened a while now. It just doesn’t make much sense.”
He doesn’t allow me to see his eyes this time. “I read for confirmation, not information.”
What does that even mean? There’s silence for a few more minutes as I smoke, and he reads. It’s not tense or uncomfortable. If I had to choose a way to describe it, it would be a sense of foreboding.
Like we both know that what’s about to happen is inevitable.
The sudden rustle of him closing the newspaper startles me, and I look up to find his gaze is fixed on me. Even from this distance, I can feel the heat in them. They’re dark with lust, like molten lava.
He runs a hand roughly over his chin—the hand that now has a bandage on it where I bit him earlier today. “Good girls don’t smoke cigarettes, you know.” He’s smiling.
I give him a slight grin. “I never said I was one.”
He pats the desk, and I’m on my feet and walking toward him before I’ve even thought it through. I perch myself on the edge of the desk. He picks the cigarette from my lips and takes a drag, but not before making a show of licking the part where my mouth was.
A blush heats my cheeks. The only light in the room comes from a flickering light fixture overhead that’s missing a bulb. The incandescent rays are weak but warm, bathing the room in a glow that adds another layer of intrigue to our surroundings.
In this light, he looks like a devil sitting on his ruined throne.
Professor Holmes ashes the cigarette on the desk, tossing it into the trash-bin in a corner of the room. His hand settles on my thigh and I tense. Even through the fabric of my leggings, I can feel the roughness of his fingertips.
He pulls on the fabric, and it slaps against my skin.
There’s a grimace on his lips.
“From now on, I’ll send you a dress code,” he says. “At least for the days we will see each other.”
I feel attacked. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?”
“I do,” he says, raking his eyes up my body. “It’s just incredibly tedious to get you out of.”
There is hunger in his voice.
“What would you rather have me wear?” My question comes out breathier than I expect.
His hand moves to the waistband of my leggings.
“A skirt,” he says, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I like it when you wear those. The shorter the better.” His voice lowers, transforms into a growl. “Sit on my lap.”
I push away from the desk, slowly moving towards him. He peels my leggings from my waist, palming the skin there as I turn and back up against him. I sit on his leg shyly, glancing up at him over my shoulder.
The sudden proximity of him is overwhelming. He smells of mint, expensive cologne and cigarette smoke. He pulls me into him, crushing me against his chest. Even with me on his lap, our height difference is staggering. I can feel the rough hairs on his chest against my bare shoulders. I tilt my head back to see his profile.
Professor Holmes adjusts me on his lap until I’m sitting right on his dick.
