15. Phillip
15
PHILLIP
S o glad you honored our agreement, Wesley.
The words echo through my head like a death knell as Avery stares me down.
Her usual pleasant expression has been replaced by the wrathful face of a warrior queen. She looks like she’s ready to squash me under her foot.
I don’t need to ask for whom the bell tolls. I know it tolls for me. It signals the death of any friendly feelings between her and me.
It’s nothing I don’t deserve—losing her friendship, that is. I never should have let that slip out no matter how angry I was.
No, not angry. Jealous.
I wanted her in my kitchen half-dressed with those gorgeous legs on display. I wanted breakfast with her the morning after spending a memorable night in my bed. The mark on her neck that she’s trying desperately to hide should have been mine.
There have been so many times over the past few weeks where I’ve been tempted to cross that boundary and make my intentions known.
I never did that, though. Each time, I regained control of myself and behaved like a teacher/mentor should.
After the sixteen weeks were up and she had her certificates in hand, I would have broached the subject. I would have seen if she’d like to spend time with me as friends or colleagues and go from there—only if she showed any interest in that sort of thing, of course.
I had been doing everything right. I controlled my impulses and behaved like a gentleman. Then along comes Wesley with the impulse control of a teenager and he breaks his word to his friends.
That’s not entirely fair, Phillip. You don’t know the whole situation. You owe him a chance to explain himself, at least.
“Is Wesley here?” I ask.
She shoves a piece of paper across the counter at me and I read the note.
Just great. I’m in the stickiest situation I’ve ever been in and my friend isn’t even here to back me up.
With the way she’s glaring at me, though, I don’t have time to wallow in my own feelings. I’ll have to unpack them later this evening—preferably over some very strong drinks.
Right now, however, she deserves an explanation, and if I ever want to speak to her again, I need to give it to her.
I take a deep breath. “It’s not what you think.”
“So, what is it, then?” she demands.
I have no idea where to begin, so I just start at the beginning.
“After he saw your application video, Wesley couldn't stop talking about how amazing both you and your work were. When he showed us your channel, we were just as captivated with you. And that was before any of us had met you in person.
“When we met you, it was hard for all three of us to stay professional. On your channel, you were engaging and charming. In person, you were…” I sigh. “You are sensational.
“The next time we all met up, it was clear we were in the same boat. None of us wanted to take advantage of you or do anything to make you uncomfortable, so we promised to stay professional with you and to hold each other accountable.”
She leans on the kitchen island like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. “So that’s why you said what you did when you came in here.”
“Yes, but also because I was too jealous to watch my tongue.”
“Jealous? I don’t understand. Why would you be—why would the three of you think that I’m…” Avery shakes her head in disbelief. “It doesn’t make any sense. I’m nothing special. I can barely believe that Wesley was interested in me, and now you’re telling me the three of you… No. I refuse to believe it. This is all some sick joke.”
Her body language shifts again. Before, she had been burning so brightly with anger it felt like the temperature shot up by twenty degrees.
Now, she’s pulled the shutters over her eyes and her face loses every ounce of personality. It’s unnerving to see someone who is usually so expressive look so blank.
Anger still radiates off her, but it’s a frigid sort of burn like the sensation you feel after shoving your bare hand in a snowbank for a few minutes.
“The Academy asked you to do this, didn’t they?” Avery asks. “I’ve seen the way the staff and the other students look at me, especially that Reginald guy. They think I’m scum because I can’t afford to be there on my own.
“So of course, they’re going to take the most attractive men they have and sic them on me to make me feel uncomfortable or guilty or to try to catch me in a compromising position so they can run me out of the university.” She jabs her finger at me. “You tell Reginald that his little honeypot scheme isn’t going to work.”
“Honeypot scheme? You think I’m?—”
It’s too much for me to take, and I can’t keep a straight face a second longer. I burst into laughter even as I feel her icy glare stabbing into me.
“You’re seriously laughing right now? Is my entire future just a joke to you?”
That sobers me up quickly.
“It’s not a joke,” I say seriously. “I promise that’s not what’s going on here.”
Somehow, that upsets her more.
“It has to be. I’m barely educated. I have baggage that could fill the entirety of a transatlantic plane’s cargo hold. My hair’s too thin, my nose is too pointy, and that’s not even accounting for what my clothes cover up. There’s absolutely no reason for any of you to find me appealing. It has to be some kind of joke or trick.”
Her words break my heart. What had happened to this woman for her to think that no one could possibly like her for who she is? Who had hurt her?
I want to make her tell me so Wesley, Jamie, and I can pay them a visit, but I know that’s the least helpful thing I could do in this situation.
Instead, I get to my feet and round the island to get to her. My movements are slow and purposeful. The last thing I want to do right now is to spook her.
My voice is as soft as the time I had to untangle a frightened fox from a mess of chicken wire.
“You are creative, ambitious, and determined to make a better life for you and your son. Then there’s the way you talk about him. You shine brighter than the sun when you talk about him.”
I take her hands in mine. “The only other time you light up like that is when you talk about baking, and it is a sight to behold. That alone is enough to draw the attention of a much more attractive man than I am. And as far as uneducated goes, if you’re uneducated, then I’m an umbrella stand.”
“But I only have a high school diploma,” she protests.
“Having a piece of paper from an institution doesn’t automatically mean you’re a genius. There are plenty of ways to educate yourself beyond the traditional setting, and it’s obvious that you’ve done that. I’ve never had a student nearly beat me at chess the first time we played. The way your mind works fascinates me. You’re incredibly intelligent even if you refuse to believe it.
“Besides, you're on your way to getting three of those fancy pieces of paper in about twelve weeks or so. You won’t be able to make that argument for much longer.”
Her eyes widen as I pull her closer. I shouldn’t be doing this. I need to let her go and walk away.
Just because Wesley broke his end of the agreement doesn’t mean that I should too.
But like death and taxes, some things in life are inevitable.
Her hands come to rest lightly on my chest as I run my hands through her hair.
“Your hair is perfect. It’s light and airy like sunbeams through a window. It’s not too thin. And for the record, I quite admire your nose. It’s aquiline and regal and decidedly one of your best features. I may be biased, though. I think all your features are your best ones.”
Avery’s soft laugh breaks what little control I have left. I pull her to me and press a kiss to her lips.
Her mouth is like a peach—soft but firm. When she parts her lips to give me access, her tongue dances with mine like we’d been doing this for years.
Then her body goes rigid and she pushes me away from her.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” Avery says, starting to pace around the kitchen. “I was with Wesley last night. I shouldn’t be having anything to do with you, and I sure as hell shouldn’t be kissing you in his kitchen. I can't even begin to imagine how he’s going to react when he finds out. Oh, he's going to be so angry with me. How are we going to tell him?”
Her face twists into a scowl when she sees the smile I can't seem to wipe off my face.
“What could you possibly have to smile about?” she demands.
“Is that your only concern? What Wesley’s going to think, I mean?”
“I think that's a pretty big concern and I have no idea why you don't seem to be taking this as seriously as I am. You've been friends for years. Years! Kissing someone he slept with last night kind of seems like a relationship ender to me.”
“Just to be clear, this is all about how Wesley is going to feel about it. It has nothing to do with your not finding me attractive.”
“Why is this the part of the conversation you're fixating on? What does it matter if I find you attractive or not? I clearly do. Why else would all my common sense and decency fly out the window as soon as you touched me? But that’s so far beyond the point, it’s on a different continent.”
I catch her hand as she passes me, putting a stop to the pacing. She doesn’t stop me or even pull away, so I decide to take that as a good sign.
I tip her chin up with a finger, forcing her to look at me.
“Let me tell you a little something about my friend Wesley.” I smirk. “Wesley likes to watch.”
Her eyes widen, but she lets me grab her waist and pull her closer.
“Do you know what his favorite thing to see is, Princess?”
She bites her lip “No.”
“He likes watching his friends play with his toys,” I say, my voice dark with need. “And if he came home and saw me eating you on this island like you were my last meal, he’d stand right against that wall there, watching every face you make when you come for me.”
I trail open-mouthed kisses from the base of her neck to right under her ear.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as she gasps.
“Is that something you’d like, Princess? Being perched up here on the counter for everyone to see you, me between your perfect thighs, and seeing just how sexy he thinks you are while he watches us?”
“Yes.”
I drop her on the island in front of a barstool, and she squirms uncomfortably on the counter.
“You can change your mind, you know,” I say worriedly. “If this is too much?—”
“No, it’s just…”
She flushes a deep shade of scarlet.
“Just what?”
“It’s cold,” she whimpers.
“Do you mean to tell me, you’re completely bare under that shirt?”
She nods.
My cock is unbearably hard. I need to see all of her and I’m not waiting another second for it.
“Take it off,” I say tugging at the hem of the shirt.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she slips it over her head and hands it to me.
She is exquisite. I could spend all day just looking at her, but the goosebumps cropping up over her body interrupt my blatant staring.
She won’t have a good time if she’s cold, so I fold up the shirt and hand it back to her.
At her puzzled look, I say, “Use that as a buffer between you and the counter. I can’t exactly have my way with you if you freeze to death.”
I trace my fingertips over the tops of her thighs, enjoying the soft sounds she makes as I touch her. When I cup her breasts in my hands, she lets out a low moan that has me focusing my attention there. My thumb brushes across one nipple as my tongue flicks over the other one.
She buries a hand in my hair, pulling me closer as I suck it into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue. Her breath comes in gasps as I turn my head to give the other hard nipple the same treatment.
My hand slips between her thighs, and I moan at the feel of how wet she is.
I brush my fingers against her entrance. “Do you like being on display for me?”
“Yes.”
“Good answer.”
I slide a finger into her core as a reward. She rolls her hips against my hand, trying to urge me to go faster, but I keep my pace deliberately slow.
“But you want an audience, don’t you? You want Wesley to walk in that door and see you getting fucked by my fingers.”
I add another finger inside her, and she practically screams my name.
“Would you like to be our plaything, Princess?”
“Please, don’t tease me anymore. Make me come.”
She growls in frustration as I pull my fingers out of her.
“You didn’t answer the question,” I say, brushing my fingers lightly over her clit. “Do you want to be our plaything?”
“Yes.”
I thrust my fingers inside her and fuck her hard and fast. She writhes on top of the counter every time I hit her G-spot. It doesn’t take long before I feel her pussy start to clench. My hand finds her breast, and when I pinch her pebbled nipple between my fingers, she comes screaming my name like a banshee.
Avery collapses against my shoulder, and I hold her tightly to me as she comes down from her climax.
“Well, it’s nice to see we’re all honoring that agreement we made,” Jamie says dryly.
This time, when Avery screams, it has nothing to do with pleasure.