Page 67 of An Arcane Education
“Maybe. But if we can manage to keep our… personal activities under control, then we’ll be okay.”
Despite the fact that I know we can’t have a real relationship, I deflate a little at his words. “Got it.”
“Please don’t think for a moment that I don’t want you, because I do.”
“But?”
“But I also don’t want to hold you back or cause you unnecessary stress. You deserve someone who can give you everything you want without reservation, someone you don’t have to hide. You deserve better than this.”
I scoff. “It’s not you, it’s me, right?” Unable to handle any more emotional whiplash this week, I stand to leave, wishing we’d just stuck to talking about academic topics rather than our entwined personal lives.
I’ve only swung the door open an inch or two when it slams back closed. Alaric’s palm is just above my head, pressing against the door to prevent me from leaving. The rise and fall of his broad chest is only inches away from my face as I stare up at him in shock.
His dark eyes pierce into me, and they hold a passionate intensity that wasn’t there before. “Is this what you want?” he growls, trapping my body between his and the door while his arm cages me in to my left. “You want me to tell you that I can't fucking think when you're around because your very presence consumes me? That every night I go home and hope you’re not hooking up with one of those ridiculous, flirty classmates of yours because I want you all to myself? That I feel incredibly selfish for wanting you when I know I can’t be with you openly?”
“Every day I watch that boy flirt with you in class and drive myself insane wondering if you’re going home with him even when I have no right to be jealous. And it’s miserable to know that any one of them could ask you out without the complications that I have.”
He continues. “I told myself I’d maintain a professional distance and keep my desires to myself, but all I’ve wanted to do is kiss you. I’d hoped that I’d get it out of my system if I did it once, but all it’s done is make me want you more.”
“Then kiss me,” I breathe. “That’s all I want.”
He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to, but I don't.
When his lips finally capture mine, it's nothing like the kiss in the forest. Where that one was sweet and was meant to be a distraction as much as a show of affection, this kiss is demanding and desperate.
His free hand grazes my waist while the one that’s pressed against the door trails down until I hear the sharp click of the lock turning. My breath catches in my throatwhen he presses his body against mine and his erection presses against me.
“Fuck,” I breathe when he finally pulls away, because there are no words to describe how I’m feeling in this moment. Alaric gazes down at me with dark, hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
With my one word, his last thread of restraint snaps, and he kisses me again, this time lifting me beneath my ass and pinning me against the wall. When I wrap my legs tightly around his torso and hook my arms over his shoulders, he pulls me away from the door and carries me with ease across the small office, circling behind his desk.
Still holding me, he bends slightly, and with the arm that’s not supporting my weight, he clears the desk with one dramatic swipe. Papers cascade to the floor, books land with a heavy thud, and pencils bounce and scatter.
Alaric sets me on the desk facing him with my legs dangling off the edge, then kneels before me, yanks my boots off, reaches beneath my dress, and hooks his fingers over the waistband of my leggings.
“I need to taste you.”
He looks up at me beneath the dark locks of hair falling over his forehead, and I nod at him in silent permission, wanting to burn the image of him on his knees before me into my memory forever. The sight of this strong, stern man looking up at me with such reverence.
With a sharp tug, Alaric pulls down my leggings and my panties together, and I brace my hands on the desk to lift myself slightly so he can fully remove them. The wood is cold against my bare skin, and a chill runs up my spine.This is really happening.
He gently removes his glasses, folding them and placing them off to the side, and the simple act does things to me that I don’t understand.
I inhale sharply as he kisses the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, right above my knee, and trails upward.
His lips graze my thigh only a few inches away from where I so desperately want his touch before he pulls back a fraction of an inch.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs. “You should tell me to stop.”
“No,” I whisper. “Please don’t stop.”
Those three words are enough to overshadow the conflict warring within him. He leans in and drags his tongue up my slit, and my entire body shudders. When I thread my fingers through his dark hair, he groans and strokes his tongue against me with more pressure.
He repeats the process over and over again, dragging it out, and I’m not sure whether he’s doing it because he wants to savor me or taunt me.
“Please,” I beg, tightening my grip on his hair.
His voice is husky when he asks, “You want more?”
