Page 90 of Pink Ink

The class know-it-all beside me stirs in his seat. “Psychological—”

“It shows psychological fragmentation,” I say a little too loud before Austin can answer for me. “Aster uses the warmth to deceive the viewerinto thinking she’s in control, while the rest of the house slips into colder, fractured tones. It’s a visual way to mirror emotional dissonance.” It doesn’t come out any friendlier.

“That’s correct, Miss Sinaga,” Maddox praises.

I narrow my eyes at him. That rat bastardknewI was distracted because of him.

Pissed off, sexually frustrated, and completely and utterly wound up, the moment class ends, I jump to my feet and shove everything in my bag.

“Someone’s in a rush.” Nicole laughs as she leisurely packs up.

“I have an appointment.” With my vibrator. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I throw the strap over my shoulder and beeline for the exit.

This is our last class of the day, and we usually walk to the subway together, but I’m not waiting. The sooner I get home, the better it’d be for society. Maddox’s voice stops me.

“Miss Sinaga, a moment.”

I’m going to kill him.

Maddox is the reason I’m acting this way, and goddamn him for looking so good, sitting on the edge of the desk, legs crossed at the ankle as he flicks through a textbook.

“Good luck,” Nicole whispers, patting me on the back as she passes me.

I glower and clutch the strap of my satchel, striding up to him as students pour out of the class. Two students reach him before I can, and I’m left to fester and curse him and his bloodline while they ask their million questions. A solid five minutes pass, and they’re still talking. Everyone else has left.

What could they possibly want to know that they can’t just look up online? A child could understand the criteria of our next assignment.

I tap my fingers on my arm as I wait.Finally, they say their thanks and fuck off. But apparently Maddox has zero consideration for me, my time, or my libido, because the moment they walk away, he turns around and starts packing up as if I don’t exist.

The wooden door slams shut, and I take it as my cue to leave as well, but once again, he stops me before I can.

“Lock the door, Miss Sinaga.”

My irritation vanishes, and my internal temperature skyrockets when he looks up at me out of the corner of his eye, arching a brow in challenge.

He straightens to his full height and adjusts his belt, pulling my attention down to the bulge in his pants that’s doubled in size.

I swallow the lump in my throat. It doesn’t go away. “After what you did in the subway, and embarrassed me in front of the entire class, you must be delusional if you think you can order me around.” I’m proud of myself for keeping my voice measured when my core is clenching with my internal battle not to stare at his erection.

Maddox prowls forward, eating the distance between us. He reaches out to hold my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tips my head to the side so he can lean down and say against my ear, “Unless you’d like for someone to walk in and see your pretty lips around my cock, I suggest you lock the door for your private lesson.”

Molten desire floods through me. Maddox straightens, eyes falling to my mouth when it parts on a soundless gasp. Inhere? This is aclassroom.

Every single alarm bell is going off in my head, and each one of them is telling me how stupid I’d be for doing what he says. Yet delicious tension coils through my flesh at the danger that comes from doing something I shouldn’t.

Oxygen stutters in my chest as I glance back at the door. Doing as he says will plunge us deeper toward the point of no return, where it’ll be so much harder to claw my way back out and try to move on after knowing what life is like with Maddox Shaw.

I’ll have to go back to being invisible and living with a brain that no one understands.

This… It can’t be permanent, can it? Could we actually make this work? Keep what we have going on in secret until it’s safe? Does he see us moving in that direction too?

Looking into his eyes, I think I know the answer. It’s more than lust or pure want, it’s a desperate, visceral need that surpasses mere physical touch. I’ve written about it before, and have only dreamed of being able to encapsulate it on the screen.

My heart hammers in my chest, and the warmth that follows stings my eyes, because I know without a doubt that I want this to work out between us.

I let the strap of my bag fall and set my satchel and outer layers down. Then, before I can change my mind, I turn around.

“Reyna, if you lock that door, there’s no going back.”