Page 37 of Damaged Professor

I shake my head. She’s only come to each of us once so far, but what if that changes? It might have just been one encounter with Sara out in the hallway, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. “I might just have to deal with the nasty looks. But you—”

“I’m a grown ass man, and I’m not about to be cowed by a wannabe hot shot student who doesn’t know what she’s doing,” says Dylan, firmly. “I just want you to know that this isn’t—it’s not anyone’s fault. And it’s certainly not yours.”

I want to believe him, but the reality is that the thought of what Sara might do is crawling under my skin and pulling me apart at the seams.

When I don’t respond, Dylan catches my face between both of his hands, and he says, “Come on, Abby. Tell me that you believe me when I say that this isn’t your fault. And that Sara doesn’t have anything but unprovable accusations.”

I look down at my feet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat and hauls me forward, pulling me up and into his lap. I let out a startled laugh, throwing one arm over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“I said, tell me that you believe me when I say that this isn’t your fault and Sara doesn’t have a foot to stand on,” insists Dylan. “Come on, I want to hear you say it.”

My forehead thumps against the cut of his shoulder.

“I want to be with you,” says Dylan. “And having one little talk with Sara is not going to change that.”

I smile at him, unbidding. Hearing him say he wants to be with me is all I need. My lips press to the corner of Dylan’s jaw, and I tell him, “Alright. It’s not my fault. She’s a nosy Nancy anyway, watching you like that. I mean, it’s creepy right?”

“There we go,” says Dylan, cheerfully. He sweeps a hand through my hair, and then he helps me back up onto my feet. I brace my hands against the curve of his shoulders, so that he can’t get up. I think about getting on my knees and blowing him right here as if we were the stars of some cheesy porn movie. Dylan clearly liked it when I sucked him off in the shower. And there’s something crazy hot about trying to get him off in here.

Holy shit, keeping this all a secret is hard for sure, but also hot as hell.

Instead, I just lean forward, and I kiss him again. It’s soft and sweet. His hand settles on the back of my neck, and he leans into the kiss too, swiping his tongue over my lower lip.

I part them to give him easy access to the rest of my mouth, but he doesn't deepen the kiss. He keeps it soft and steady, and there’s something about it that just makes me want to stay here with him forever.

Some things make you feel warm, not just under the skin but deep into your chest. It’s stupid to say that our hearts beat in sync. But as we breathe together here, trading soft kisses, as he pets through my hair, it certainly feels like it.

Finally, I pull away. My hands caress his shoulders again and then move to settle on the curve of his thighs. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Dylan asks. “We can drop the subject for now?”

The corners of my mouth twist a little. “You’re sure that it’s okay to just pretend she didn’t talk to us?”

“Abby, I think that’s absolutely what we need to do,” says Dylan. “You and I, we’ve got more going on than that. One conversation can’t be enough to break us.”

“Us,” I say, with a curl of the word. I lean forward and give Dylan one more kiss, and then pull away fully. “Alright. We’ll just pretend that it didn’t happen.”

“Good.” He stands up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The tips of his fingers brush over the side of my face. Instinctively, I turn my face towards the touch, and breathe out.

“Now what?” I ask him, almost fearing the answer.

“I will take care of everything,” he says simply.

Chapter twenty-two

Dylan

Brightsunlightcastsdownon me as I step out of the car. Ashton managed to get out of the office for the day after all. Jenna was discharged early in the morning which prompted him to take half a day off. We’ve decided to hit up a little bistro near his office, one of Ashton’s favorite spots. The building itself is the classic red brick with ivy creeping up the sides, and when I step inside, I see that my brother’s up at the front counter, flirting his ass off with the young red-haired woman on the other side of it.

“I should have known,” I tell him, amused. “There’s always a reason with you, isn’t there?”

“And here’s the man of the hour,” says Ashton, giving the cashier a wink. Her name tag reads BETHANY in looping black print. “I told you that he’d be here eventually.”

Bethany smiles. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Mostly just in the last four minutes, but still.”

“I can pack a lot of embarrassing stories into four minutes,” says Ashton. “Alright.” He smacks a hand against the counter. “I’ve already ordered for you, and we’re taking one of the seats outside. For that sunlight you’re missing.”

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