Chapter Nine
Colton
I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing with James.
All my experiences with subs over the years have involved sex and a scene. Sure, I tell them what I want them to do before I see them, when and where to meet me, what to wear and things like that, but the whole making or buying meals for someone and expecting them to eat because I said so is new.
And strangely, I like it. I’m not sure why that’s surprising to me.
It’s just another form of caretaking, and that’s always been something I enjoy, but I’m not sure if I would like it this much with anyone else.
Something about James makes me want to take care of him in ways I’ve never considered before.
And it’s killing me not to know if he ate the food.
I assume he did since the lunch bag I left on Thursday wasn’t there on Friday.
I made him another lunch on Monday morning. It should be easier to slip into the room and drop it off while actually having a reason to be there. If I go a little early, I’m hoping I get as lucky as I did last week and no one is in there already.
Only when I walk inside, a very specific person is standing there—Professor Valentine, with his arms crossed, leaning against the desk, a scowl on his face that looks practiced.
I love the masculinity of him, the rough edges, hard muscles and lines, and knowing that beneath it, there’s a part of him no one else sees, one that is begging and pleading to relinquish control to someone else.
I want that person to continue to be me.
I don’t stop walking until I’m a few feet from him, and set the bag on the table. “I need the first lunch box back.”
“Mr. Hathaway, you do know I’m capable of making my own food, correct?” There’s a sharp edge to his voice that doesn’t ring true.
“Yes, I do, Professor Valentine.” I glance around to confirm we’re alone, voice low when I add, “But I like to take care of you…to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
The black nearly takes over the brown of his eyes as he watches me.
“Have you been eating your breakfast at home each morning?”
“I always eat breakfast. It was a one-off that day.”
“Did you eat every meal I made you?”
“Yes, but that hardly means anything.”
“I knew you would, which is what made it even more fulfilling for me. I know how much you want to be good for me, Professor, and I want that too.”
His breath hitches.
This is wrong, so fucking wrong, and not what I’d expected to say to him.
Yes, I wanted to make sure he ate, but that’s as far as I’d gotten.
Standing in the middle of his classroom, telling him I want him to be good for me, crosses too many boundaries.
My logic keeps telling me to step away, to take the words back because this is a mess neither of us needs, but I don’t.
I do, however, fight my urge to step closer, to breathe in his warm vanilla-and-musk scent.
“I can’t do this here…right now. We’ll discuss it later. After class,” James tells me.
“I can’t. I have one right after this on Mondays. I was late last week because I went to speak to my advisor. I can’t do that again.”
“Fine. What time are you done for the day?”
“Three.”
“Me too. Not here, though. There’s a park on the other side of Peyton.” He gives me the name. “There’s a tunnel toward the back by the creek.”
I feel like he’s going a little overboard, but I don’t tell him that. I’m surprised he wants to meet me at all. “I’ll be there at three thirty,” I tell James. “Don’t be late.”
I walk up the stairs of the auditorium and find my seat toward the back. I don’t want to distract him. My goal is to make things easier on James, not harder. I pull my laptop from my bag and begin going over some work.
Still, even after other students begin to fill the room, I feel his eyes on me the whole time.
*
When I arrive at the tunnel, James is already there. I made sure not to arrive early because I know that would shake him when he’s already going to be nervous. While I like to test my subs, challenge them, this isn’t a way I want to with James, at least not at this point.
I also have no business thinking about him like he’s my sub because he isn’t, no matter how much I may want him to be. For a reason I can’t explain, I haven’t gotten my fill of him yet. And if we make the right choice here, I’ll never get the chance.
He pushes off the wall of the tunnel as soon as he sees me, hands in his pockets, looking around like he expects the dean to jump out of the bushes at any second.
I’ve never been to this side of the park. The trails and surroundings seem much quieter here.
“It’ll be okay, James. No one will see us here.”
“That’s easy for you to say. It’s not your career on the line.”
No, it’s not. He’s right about that, and it’s just the reminder I need why this is a bad idea.
I have two choices when it comes to this conversation, and I wasn’t sure which direction I was going to go, but now I am.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Do you want to sit?
” I point to the bench. He stares at me for a second, eyebrows pinched together, and I have a feeling I let him down.
“Sit down, James,” I amend, telling him what I want rather than asking, though that’s not what this is about.
He walks over to the bench, ass near one edge, as though afraid if I sit down, we’ll be touching. Fuck, I want to touch him so damn bad, but I’m determined to be good.
“Why am I here?” he asks, me standing rather than joining him.
“Because I think you want more guidance than you realize, more than you’ve ever given yourself. You want someone to take care of you.”
“Fuck you. I’ve never depended on anyone in my whole life. I don’t need to start now.”
“Maybe it’s time you did have someone you can depend on,” I argue. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and I didn’t say you needed anything. But it’s okay to want, James.”
“I know who I am and what I want better than you.”
“Do you? Because I feel like I read you pretty well. Did I not give you everything you wanted the times we were together? Was there anything I misjudged?” That’s important for me to know, even if I’m never able to have him again.
He sighs, looking like he wants to lie but doesn’t. “You know you didn’t.”
“Good boy,” falls from my lips. Fuck. I need to stop that.
“I didn’t do anything.”
I don’t respond to his statement. “Honesty only: did you like me making your meals? Telling you to eat?”
He rubs a hand over his face and pushes to his feet.
“I don’t recall telling you to stand.”
“Are we in a scene right now?”
“You’re the one who made it obvious you wanted me to direct you. That wasn’t but five minutes ago. If you want it to stop now, you know what to say.”
Red. Those three letters change everything.
James doesn’t say them. “Yes, I liked it. You know I did.” He takes a seat again.
“Because you like to feel cared for?” I prod. It’s important for me to understand him.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had someone do that before. I didn’t know I would like it, so I can’t really tell you why I do.”
I nod. “You have a lot on your mind, a lot of responsibility.” I think maybe he always has. “Between your career and now having custody of your siblings.”
“Yes, Sir,” he answers, nearly making me weak in the knees. Why are those two words so much more potent coming from him? Why do they make every single pleasure receptor in my body sing?
“I think you would do better with even more guidance—having someone tell you what to do, what’s expected, someone to make sure you’re taking care of yourself and giving you less to think about.
” Kink can be about more than sex, and while I don’t know for sure, it feels like this is something James could benefit from.
“I don’t need that.” His leg bounces, and there’s not a part of me that doesn’t know he’s fighting himself not to stand right now, but he’s not doing it because he knows I don’t want him to. As hard as it can be for James sometimes, he obeys so beautifully.
“But it’s okay if you want it, remember?” I take a few steps closer, don’t stop until I’m right in front of him, our legs touching. “Do you want it, James?”
His breath catches, his hands shaking. James looks down at his lap, thinking maybe? Or building the courage to say what he wants.
It feels like a hundred years pass by before he replies, “I shouldn’t.”
“That’s not what I asked, but there’s also no reason why you shouldn’t want that. I didn’t know I would get something out of it either, not until this past week.”
“Why?”
“Why did I like it?” I sit beside him. “Because it’s another way for me to be in control, which we both know I like.
And because it’s what I thought was best for you, and giving a sub what they need always fulfills something inside me.
I get off on being dominant, both physically and mentally, in whatever form it comes, and by taking care of a sub. ”
“It helped,” he admits. “I think it would help me right now…with everything else going on. It would only be temporary. That’s not who I am. The sex thing is different.”
I nod, though I’m not sure he’s right. That doesn’t really matter in this moment anyway.
“Thank you for being honest. You should be proud of yourself for taking care of yourself this way.” It kills me to set the next words free.
I want to lock them up and throw away the key.
I want to be the one who has control over James.
I want him to be mine, even if it’s temporary.
“I’ll see what I can do. I have a friend who would be good with this, and I think the two of you would be well suited. ”
His head whips in my direction, eyes fiery. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“A Dom…for you. Isn’t that what we just decided on?”
He shoves to his feet, and this time, I don’t argue with him. It’s clear he’s not happy with me. “Fuck you, Colton. If you didn’t want to do it, why are you here? I don’t need you to find a Dom for me. I don’t need you at all.”
He turns to walk away, but I stand, grabbing his wrist and keeping him close.
If he really wanted to get away, he could.
The fact that he doesn’t try tells me everything I need to know.
“I want you. I’ve been craving you for months.
But I also want what’s best for you. What was one of the first things you said to me when I arrived today? ”
He’s breathing heavily, warm, minty breath against my face. James licks his lips, and it takes everything inside me not to lean in and taste them. It’s been too long since I’ve had the chance, but I don’t allow myself to.
“What was it?” I ask again, wanting him to be the one to say the words.
“That it’s not your career on the line.”
“Exactly. What kind of man would I be to put you at risk like that? What kind of Dom would I be? I get that I’ve given some mixed signals, but that was me being selfish because I do want you so much. Ultimately, though, I need to do what’s right for you.”
His breathing slows, almost a dreamy look in his gaze that’s so fucking different from the anger in his expression just moments ago. Because he hasn’t had anyone in his life think about him that way? No one who does what’s right for him?
“I won’t do it with anyone else. I don’t… I can’t trust some random person that way. This was a bad idea.” This time, he does pull his wrist from my hold. “Thank you, Mr. Hathaway, but I think it’s better if we just forget this conversation happened.”
James gives me his back, takes one step, then two, then three. My brain tells me to let him go. He’s my professor, and I’m his student. Only for one semester. Would anyone really find out? You want him. He wants you. You’re only trying to help.
“You were the one who was so adamant we can’t do this,” I argue.
“This is different. It’s not sex. And I know it’s a bad idea.
I’m trying to talk myself out of it, but…
” He sighs like he’s not sure how to get this part out, like he’s not sure if he wants to.
“I trust you. I don’t understand why, but I do.
And I like the way you make me feel. There hasn’t been much in my life to make me feel good, especially lately.
It’s not easy for me to admit that. I already regret it. ”
“I’m glad you admitted it.” I find myself smiling. I like this man more than I should.
“Of course you are.” He shifts his position as if he can’t stay still. “Is that all? I really need to get home and check on the kids.”
None of this is expected. I feel like nothing about him ever is, and I find that incredibly fucking exciting. I pull out my cell phone. “What’s your number?”
I’m surprised when James easily rattles it off to me. I type it into my phone, then send him a quick text so he has mine as well.
“Is that a yes?” he asks.
“It is. I’ll text you in a little while, and we’ll talk more. And thank you.”
He frowns. “What are you thanking me for?”
“Trusting me. I won’t let you get in trouble. I promise.”
He sighs, his gaze holding mine. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mr. Hathaway.”
“Sir,” I remind him, and damned if he doesn’t smile.
“Sir.”
And this time when he walks away, I let him go…smiling the whole time too.