Page 41 of His to Teach
She takes a bite and I feel a brief rush of pleasure at her obedience. I had thought she was a natural from the moment I met her and the more time I spend with her, the more sure I am.
She chews her sandwich, eyes on me, like she’s expecting me to pick up the previous thread of our conversation. To my surprise, I want to. I never talk about my personal life with my usual subs. Then again, it’s getting more and more clear that whatever this is with Harper is far from my usual.
“I do enjoy travel,” I tell her. “I try to get away several times a year, usually on school breaks. Though I have taken sabbatical in the past to enjoy a longer trip.”
“Where did you go on sabbatical?”
So I tell her about the trip to South America, hiking in Peru, the guest lecture series at the Universidad de Buenos Aires. She’s attentive while I talk, like she finds my every word fascinating. I have to remind her several times to eat. If we were further along in this relationship, I would punish her for that. For making me remind her. I’m immediately half hard at the thought. But I can’t do that, not now. I don’t even know what this is yet.
“Have you been abroad?” I ask, trying to push thoughts of my paddle on her ass from my mind.
Her face lights up. “Only once. To London, after my high school graduation.”
“With friends?”
She seems to deflate a little. “Mason and I were supposed to go but he had to work. Some big case he couldn’t get out of.” She smiles but I can tell she’s covering, that she isn’t okay with this, even all these years later. “So I took Emma instead. We had a blast.”
I’m not buying the false cheer in her voice. This is a sore subject. “Does that happen often? With Mason?”
She shrugs, playing with the crust of her sandwich. “He’s very busy. It was a lot of responsibility, taking me on after our parents died. He’s always worked so hard to provide for me. I can’t complain about that.”
She might not be complaining, but there’s still something in her voice. Something that sounds a lot like yearning.
“He’s never considered you an imposition.”
Her head snaps up to meet my gaze. “How do you know that?”
She looks almost desperate for the reassurance, eyes wide and fixed on mine while she waits for my answer.
“Harper, he’s crazy about you. It’s obvious in the way he talks about you.” She doesn’t look convinced so I continue. “I remember a conversation with him, shortly after it happened.” From the look on her face she isn’t entirely comfortable with how close we’re getting to the subject of her parents’ death so I hurry on. “He talked about how proud of you they had been. How lucky he was to have you. He never once indicated it was anything but an honor to be the one to help you after they were gone.”
She swallows several times, looking away. I can’t tell if she believes me or not. She’s hurting, and I hate it. Hate that I can’t do anything to make the world right for her, to take away the things she lost. More than anything else, I hate that she’s turning away from me—that she’s trying to keep this part, any part, of herself away from me.
Before I can even begin to think of a way to bring her back to me, she looks up, smiling again, not quite so false this time. I’m surprised by how relieved I feel, to see that smile.
“What about your family? Are you close?”
I snort at that. “Not exactly. I’m the great family disappointment.”
“You? But you’re so successful!”
“Academics don’t mean much to my parents.” She looks gobsmacked by this statement. “All they care about is money—which is probably why they have so much of it. When I decided I had no interest in making that my life, they pretty much lost all hope in me.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
She looks so affronted I can’t help but laugh. “It’s fine.” I long ago accepted the limitations of my relationship with my parents. “Are you still hungry?”
She looks down at her mostly empty plate. “No. I’m good.” She gives me another one of those shy smiles, the kind that makes my chest hurt. “It was delicious.”
“I can think of something else delicious I’d like to try tonight.”
God, the way she blushes is enough to make me want to tease her with innuendo for the rest of my life.
When I stand she slides her hand into mine. It takes me off guard, how easy it feels. How natural.
I notice her eyes sweeping her surroundings as we make our way to the stairs, just as she had in the kitchen. Like she’s soaking up the view. “Looking for something?”
She shakes her head. “Just curious. I’ve wondered what your house looks like.”
