Page 15 of My Downfall

For the past two days she’s not tormented me, or sassed me, or acted like a brat at all. She’s been completely different to the way she was before our bike ride.

I was trying my best to be good before that Saturday morning trip I took her on; I wasn’t going to allow anything to happen.

But that was before.

Now? Now, I need to push her. I need to see if she’s as affected by that morning as I am. By that damn kiss.

My eyes find hers across the room and she quickly looks away. She’s refused to meet my gaze at all, and it is killing me.

I clear my throat before addressing the class. “Everyone, have your essays ready on your desk. Miss Whitlock will be collecting them in for me.” Her gaze flies to mine, her eyes narrowing, and I merely raise my eyebrows at her. She gets up from her desk and gradually gathers the papers as my eyes follow her every move.

I hold my hand out to take them from her as she sashays up to my desk. My fingers stroke along hers, a touch that is obvious in its deliberateness.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Dean.” Her voice is only for me.

“I’ve always liked danger.”

***

By day four I’ve had enough. Her avoidance has tortured me every minute of every class and it appears I’ve finally reached my snapping point.

“Miss Whitlock, my office after class.”

“Yes, Dean Davenport.”

“Lucky bitch,” her classmate mutters good naturedly beside her.

I sure hope so.

***

I’m pacing my office when she knocks lightly on the door.

“Come in,” I call through the wood panel. It creaks open to reveal the woman I can’t stop thinking about; a woman who seems to have dismissed me.

“You wanted to see me, Sir.” She bites her lip, acting innocent, acting like she hasn’t destroyed me this week.

I snap. Dean Davenport is gone and in his place is a man who craves the woman in front of him with a desperation bordering on insanity.

I march straight up to her, slamming the door shut and caging her in. My arms bracket either side of her head. “Tell me you don’t think about it. Tell me you don’t think about that kiss. Tell me, so I can move on.” If her avoidance is real, if she doesn’t feel anything then I need to know.

“I can’t,” she whispers and my heart picks up its pace.

“Damn it, sweet pea. I need you to tell me. I can’t get you out of my head, can’t stop wondering if you feel the same, and it’s fucking dangerous.”

“I’ve thought about nothing other than your mouth, your lips, your tongue, and your taste since you kissed me. It’s all I’ve thought about.”

“Fuck,” I grunt. “You’ve been an ice queen all week.”

“I’ve come every night to the thought of you. To what you could do to me.”Ah fuck, baby girl, don’t tell me that.

“Everything. I’d do everything.”

“Then why don’t you?” Her hands run along the front of my shirt.

“Fuck, baby girl,” I groan as I press my forehead against hers.

“Please. Hudson, please. Give us one night.”