Page 70 of His to Teach
“One of my TAs runs an open study session for my undergrads here. Thought I should check it out.” He winks. “Since I already had to leave my beloved office for a meeting with the dean. Figured I should kill two birds with one stone.”
I force a chuckle. “Because God knows when you’ll pull yourself away from the humanities building again, right?”
“I hate it out here. It’s far too sunny outside.” He makes a face. “And all these people.”
“You mean students?”
He scoffs. “Exactly. Way too crowded.”
“The nerve of them, actually utilizing the library at their university.”
He laughs again. “You took the words out of my mouth.” He glances down at his watch and sighs. “Guess I better get this over with.”
I clap him on the back. “Just think, the sooner you do, the sooner you’ll be back with all your books where it’s safe.”
“Smart ass,” he growls, but he grins at me as he walks away.
And I can breathe for the first time since leaving Harper in the closet.
I hurry from the door, needing to get away before she tries to leave herself. Needing to get to my office, get somewhere private where I can try to steady my racing heart.
That was way too fucking close,I think as I head out into the bright afternoon sun. Shit, what in the hell were we thinking? What wasIthinking? Fucking her on campus? Feet away from other students. Feet away from her own advisor.
For one brief moment, I let that nightmare scenario play out in my brain. What would have happened if we’d been caught. It’s too awful to think about. I make it only a few feet from the library before I stop short, my heart pounding all over again.
Because I just realized something. When I let myself consider the worst case scenario, I only see her. When Travers surprised me outside that closet, I felt sick with fear. But I know that in that moment, it wasn’t fear for my own career. When I saw Travers I wasn’t thinking about my research or about my new book. I was only thinking about one thing—Harper. How getting caught would hurt her. Would force us to end things.
And how absolutely devastated I would be to lose her.
The run-inwith Travers eradicates all thoughts of visiting the club tonight. Hell, it eradicates just about every thought in my head except for the constant panic that we came so close to being caught.
Another realization crashes over me when I reach my office. I didn’t use a condom.
It’s not a total disaster—we’ve discussed birth control and Harper is on the pill. But I always insisted on a condom as well, determined to keep her as safe as possible. I know I’m clean—the club requires regular testing—but there’s no way I’m going to mess with Harper’s future by risking an accidental pregnancy.
I wasn’t thinking about that when I was fucking her in the damn library, though. I wasn’t thinking about anything except getting us both off.
My inability to get my mind off that near-disaster makes it difficult to concentrate on my work, which is why I find myself ten minutes late to the afternoon session with my research team.
You need to create some distance,I tell myself as I hurry down the hall to the classroom we’ve been using for the study. I can’t allow this infatuation I’m feeling to affect Harper’s academic career. And as the more experienced member of this relationship, it’s up to me to keep things under control. At least when we’re here on campus.
All of my good intentions are swept away when I step into the room, my eyes going immediately to Harper, like they do every day. But she’s not looking back the way she usually does, with that slightly wicked gleam in her eyes. Instead, I find her staring out the window, a blank expression on her face, herfingers tracing her collarbones again and again, an obvious tell that she’s upset.
Still upset. Because she was obviously upset in the library earlier. And instead of trying to get her to talk about it, I’d fucked her in a closet and nearly got her thrown out of her program.
You’re doing a great job of taking care of her,I think bitterly.
I do my best to keep from focusing all my attention on her during the session, but it’s hard. She still wears that haunted look in her eyes, even as she works. And she never looks back at me, not once.
By the end of the session, I’ve had about all I can stand. I tap out a quick text to her before dismissing the group.My car will be outside the coffee house at 5thand Elmwood in twenty minutes.
The coffee house isn’t particularly popular with the university crowd—there are far too many options closer to campus. And even if a colleague or classmate happens to be there, my windows are tinted enough that no one should be able to see who’s in the car she gets into.
I don’t get a response until she’s already left the room.See you there.
When I pull up to the curb in front of the coffee shop, she’s waiting for me. “Good girl,” I mutter, leaning across the passenger seat to open the door for her, then become distracted by the sight of her long legs as she folds herself into the car. A million images course through my brain. I love that I know exactly what she looks like under that skirt. I love knowing that her panties have been wet since the library, and that I’m the one who did that to her.
But then I see the fixed smile on her face and all sexual thoughts fade away.
