Page 10 of Bewitched By the Mountain Man
I should agree. I should say yes, of course, absolutely, let's pretend it never happened and maintain appropriate boundaries like reasonable adults.
But I can't stop staring at his mouth - the mouth that did incredible things to me, now pressed into a hard, unyielding line.
"I understand," I whisper.
“Good.” But he doesn’t move. Neither do I.
“We’ll be seeing each other regularly. In class. Around campus. You need to be able to handle that.”
“I can handle it.” Can I? I have no idea. But I say it anyway.
His jaw tightens. “Can you? Because right now, you're looking at me like…” He cuts himself off, takes a breath. When his eyes meet mine again, they’re colder. “Like you shouldn’t be looking at a professor.”
Shame rushes in. He’s right, of course. This is my education, my future. I can’t throw it away because of one night of madness. Even if it was the best night of my life.
“I should go,” I say, stepping back toward the door.
“Ms. O’Reilly.”
I freeze, hand grazing the knob.
He moves across the room like a storm about to break. His hand comes up, not to push me away, but to curl gently aroundmy throat. Not choking. Just holding. Controlling. His breath ghosts over my lips.
One more inch and he’d kiss me.
But he doesn’t. He holds me there against the classroom door.
“As much as I’d like to take you right here in this classroom, Ms. O’Reilly, we can't do what we did last night. Ever again.”
His eyes betray him, lit with the same hunger I saw when he was buried inside me.
“I should go,” I say again, barely able to breathe.
He releases my neck, clearing his throat.
“If you want to transfer to another class, I’ll sign the paperwork. No questions asked.”
It’s an out. A clean break.
“I don’t want to transfer. I’m not going to let... complications... derail my education.”
His jaw ticks. “Then we maintain appropriate boundaries. No exceptions.”
“Agreed.”
“You don’t come to my private office hours unless absolutely necessary.”
“I never used office hours with Professor Harlan anyway.”
He turns away, packing up his briefcase like he didn’t just have his hand wrapped around my throat, but his eyes flick to me. Once. Then again.
I’ve never felt a pull like this. Not ever. Not for anyone. It’s reckless. It’s wrong. And it’s ruining me.
But I force my feet to move.
I make myself walk out.
I makeit back to my apartment, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
