Page 62 of Madam, May I

Desdemona smiled at the praying hands emojis Portia text back. She slid the phone back into the pocket of her dress, pleased that her idea for Portia to file a petition for emancipation had worked. She was now legally able to make decisions for herself. Her allegations of abuse and the fact that she was technically homeless and in need of a place to stay helped her to push for an emergency hearing. Her parents not appearing in court and Desdemona locating and offering to pay the cost for a high-powered attorney also helped.

Best twenty grand I ever spent.

Now Portia could apply for a job and enroll in high school in September as a junior—all without Desdemona revealing her own identity or legally taking the girl on as her ward.

“Ms. Smith.”

No. It’s Ms. Dean. Desdemona Dean.

She looked at him. “Huh?”

“My girl and I broke up,” he said.

Desdemona came over to sit on the sofa. “I’m sorry to hear that—”

“Because of you.”

She screwed up her face. “How’s that?”

He cleared his throat and licked his bottom lip. “I told her about the kiss,” he said.

“Why?”

“I felt so guilty.”

“But I kissed you,” she stressed.

“And it fucked me up. It fucked my relationship up,” Loren stressed, rubbing his hands through his wild hair before clenching the strands in his fist.

“I thought I did,” she said.

He eyed her. “It wasn’t fair to be with her and wish it was you,” he said.

Their eyes locked.

Desdemona was taken aback, and her pulse raced. She bit her bottom lip. “Why are you here, Lo?” she asked, remembering the feel of his lips.

He sat back on the sofa with his head leaning against it, exposing his neck and Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Desdemona eyed him. She’d assumed she’d never see her young tutor again. At the moment his email arrived, she had been too busy with saving Portia to really evaluate just why he had canceled the last of their tutoring sessions. Between getting Portia settled and the Christmas holidays that triggered all of her woes about her past, Desdemona hadn’t allowed herself to miss their friendship.

But when she did, it was with fondness and with regret that the kiss hadn’t led to more.

She eyed him again.I was curious. Hell, I still am. Is he a virgin? Can I teach him? Make him a better lover?

Does he want me to?

“Live life with no regrets,” she said to him, reminding him of his advice to her.

He turned his head to eye her. “Is it too late?” he asked.

“For?” she asked, giving him a beguiling smile.

“To teach me.”

How sweet. And hot.

She had an itch of her own to be scratched.

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