Chapter 20
NATE
Something is wrong. I knew it the second she walked over to me, the moment she started playing her little game.
There was desire in her eyes, yes, but there was something else there, too.
She was pleading with me, begging me to make her forget whatever it was that had her looking so desperately sad.
And then in that closet, she had almost started crying. I felt helpless watching her as she tried to pull it together. But then I realized that I wasn’t helpless—I was going to give her exactly what she wanted right then. A distraction, from whatever it was. An escape.
I didn’t think for a second about how dangerous it was. Didn’t even give a shit. My job, her place in the program, our reputations—none of it mattered. I knew exactly what she desired from me and that was the only thing I could bring myself to care about. Giving her what she needed.
Sex with her in that storage closet was the culmination of a thousand fantasies.
All those hours I’ve spent on this campus dreaming about her, wanting her.
And somehow, she was better than every single fantasy.
She was so open with me, so uninhibited.
It drove me out of my fucking mind. Even after she made me come twice, I still wanted more of her.
Was still thinking of what I wanted to do to her when I got her home.
Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go home alone, not tonight. Maybe we’ll even make a mid-week stop at the club.
My mind is spinning through the possibilities when I leave her in the closet with a final kiss and instructions to follow me out in five minutes. I grab a stack of electronic test sheets from the shelf before leaving, just in case anyone sees me coming out of the storage closet.
Thank fuck for that. Because walking by the moment I close the door behind me is William Travers. The head of the sociology department. Harper’s advisor.
“Dr. Chase,” he says warmly, apparently missing the way I’m completely shitting myself at the sight of him. “Nice to see you.”
Keep it together, my panicked brain directs me. Control.
I somehow manage to smile at him. “You as well. What brings you out of your ivory tower?”
He laughs. Travers is known for holing up in his office, rarely leaving the humanities building, insisting that his classes all be held there—though sociology is under a completely different college than the humanities.
I suspect he just likes that building because it’s one of the oldest on Denby’s campus, brick and turreted and covered in ivy.
He’s one of the few professors on campus with the seniority to make demands like that.
“One of my TAs runs an open study session for my undergrads here. Thought I should check it out.” He winks. “Since I already had to leave my beloved office for a meeting with the dean. Figured I should kill two birds with one stone.”
I force a chuckle. “Because God knows when you’ll pull yourself away from the humanities building again, right?”
“I hate it out here. It’s far too sunny outside.” He makes a face. “And all these people.”
“You mean students?”
He scoffs. “Exactly. Way too crowded.”
“The nerve of them, actually utilizing the library at their university.”
He laughs again. “You took the words out of my mouth.” He glances down at his watch and sighs. “Guess I better get this over with.”
I clap him on the back. “Just think, the sooner you do, the sooner you’ll be back with all your books where it’s safe.”
“Smart ass,” he growls, but he grins at me as he walks away.
And I can breathe for the first time since leaving Harper in the closet.
I hurry from the door, needing to get away before she tries to leave herself. Needing to get to my office, get somewhere private where I can try to steady my racing heart.
That was way too fucking close, I think as I head out into the bright afternoon sun. Shit, what in the hell were we thinking? What was I thinking? Fucking her on campus? Feet away from other students. Feet away from her own advisor.
For one brief moment, I let that nightmare scenario play out in my brain. What would have happened if we’d been caught. It’s too awful to think about. I make it only a few feet from the library before I stop short, my heart pounding all over again.
Because I just realized something. When I let myself consider the worst case scenario, I only see her.
When Travers surprised me outside that closet, I felt sick with fear.
But I know that in that moment, it wasn’t fear for my own career.
When I saw Travers I wasn’t thinking about my research or about my new book.
I was only thinking about one thing—Harper.
How getting caught would hurt her. Would force us to end things.
And how absolutely devastated I would be to lose her.
The run-in with Travers eradicates all thoughts of visiting the club tonight. Hell, it eradicates just about every thought in my head except for the constant panic that we came so close to being caught.
Another realization crashes over me when I reach my office. I didn’t use a condom.
It’s not a total disaster—we’ve discussed birth control and Harper is on the pill.
But I always insisted on a condom as well, determined to keep her as safe as possible.
I know I’m clean—the club requires regular testing—but there’s no way I’m going to mess with Harper’s future by risking an accidental pregnancy.
I wasn’t thinking about that when I was fucking her in the damn library, though. I wasn’t thinking about anything except getting us both off.
My inability to get my mind off that near-disaster makes it difficult to concentrate on my work, which is why I find myself ten minutes late to the afternoon session with my research team.
You need to create some distance, I tell myself as I hurry down the hall to the classroom we’ve been using for the study.
I can’t allow this infatuation I’m feeling to affect Harper’s academic career.
And as the more experienced member of this relationship, it’s up to me to keep things under control. At least when we’re here on campus.
All of my good intentions are swept away when I step into the room, my eyes going immediately to Harper, like they do every day.
But she’s not looking back the way she usually does, with that slightly wicked gleam in her eyes.
Instead, I find her staring out the window, a blank expression on her face, her fingers tracing her collarbones again and again, an obvious tell that she’s upset.
Still upset. Because she was obviously upset in the library earlier. And instead of trying to get her to talk about it, I’d fucked her in a closet and nearly got her thrown out of her program.
You’re doing a great job of taking care of her, I think bitterly.
I do my best to keep from focusing all my attention on her during the session, but it’s hard. She still wears that haunted look in her eyes, even as she works. And she never looks back at me, not once.
By the end of the session, I’ve had about all I can stand. I tap out a quick text to her before dismissing the group. My car will be outside the coffee house at 5th and Elmwood in twenty minutes.
The coffee house isn’t particularly popular with the university crowd—there are far too many options closer to campus. And even if a colleague or classmate happens to be there, my windows are tinted enough that no one should be able to see who’s in the car she gets into.
I don’t get a response until she’s already left the room. See you there.
When I pull up to the curb in front of the coffee shop, she’s waiting for me.
“Good girl,” I mutter, leaning across the passenger seat to open the door for her, then become distracted by the sight of her long legs as she folds herself into the car.
A million images course through my brain.
I love that I know exactly what she looks like under that skirt.
I love knowing that her panties have been wet since the library, and that I’m the one who did that to her.
But then I see the fixed smile on her face and all sexual thoughts fade away.
“What’s wrong?”
Her smile falters a little. “Nothing. I’m happy to see you.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but don’t respond as I turn my attention to the road and pull out into traffic. A heavy silence settles over the car, tension radiating between the two of us.
Harper finally breaks the silence with a trembling voice. “Are you mad at me?”
“What? No. Of course not.” I glance over at her to see that she’s staring out the window, eyes red. “Why would you ask me that?”
She shrugs, still not looking at me. “You seem…upset.”
“I am upset,” I confirm. I’m upset because I can’t seem to control myself around you and I’m terrified it’s going to get you into trouble.
But that’s the least of my worries right now.
What I’m really worried about in this moment is whatever it is that’s bothering her.
I reach across the gear shift and take her hand in mine.
“I’m upset because I know you’re not okay and you aren’t talking to me. ”
She sucks in a deep breath. “It’s nothing—”
“Bullshit,” I snap. “Don’t give me that, Harper.”
She releases a breath that sounds shaky to my ears. “I’m just tired, Nate. That’s all. It was a long day.”
I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I drive, trying to determine if she’s telling the truth. I’m pretty sure there’s more to it, but maybe she is just tired. She’s been exposed to a lot these past few weeks—it must be overwhelming.
It would be a hell of a lot easier to believe her if I could look into her eyes. “Fuck it,” I mutter, pulling into the fire lane and putting the car into park.
“What can I do to make you feel better?”
She finally meets my eyes, hers wide and pained even as she smiles. “Just be with me,” she whispers. “That always makes me feel better.”
I blow out a breath, trying to push my doubts away. “What would you like to do? Shall we have dinner? Or we could do something relaxing, watch a movie or—”
“The club,” she interrupts, and I can see the fire of desire in her eyes. It barely covers the pain I’ve been seeing there all day. “I want to go to the club with you.”
I study her face, considering that. The club has some particular advantages if I want to get the truth out of her.
I’ve been in similar positions before, trying to get a sub to admit something or open up.
In every previous case, I took the sub to Club Wyld where I would tie them up.
The promise of pain could be a powerful motivator.
Or, if I was feeling particularly devious, I might employ orgasm denial, keeping the sub right on the perimeter of pleasure until they finally gave in.
I could do that with Harper. I could take her to my playroom at Wyld and manipulate her body and her desires until I had what I wanted. She would enjoy it, too. I was sure she asked me to take her there in the hopes that she could escape again.
And that’s what makes me decide against it. Because I already did that once for her today, let her escape into pleasure and role play so she didn’t have to face whatever was bothering her. It might have worked for a while, but she’s obviously still upset. I’m not going to let her hide again.
“Is Emma home?”
She blinks at me in confusion. “I don’t think so. She usually works late on Wednesday.”
I nod once, releasing her hand so I can put the car back into drive.
“Nate, what are we—”
“We’re going to your place,” I tell her firmly. I want her somewhere I know she’ll be comfortable. I want her to feel safe, at home. And that means she needs to be in her own bed when we have this conversation.
“I don’t want to go to my place.” She sounds frustrated now. “I want to go to the club.”
I let my voice drop into a commanding rasp. “Last I checked, you’re not the one in charge here, angel.”
She clears her throat but doesn’t respond. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her tracing her collarbone, agitated.
We make the drive in silence, Harper’s attention on the window while I try to figure out the best way to get her talking.
I find a spot in front of her building and tell her to wait so I can come around and open her door.
I’m pretty sure I see her roll her eyes, but I ignore it.
I need to feel like I’m taking care of her right now.
This wall she’s put between us is fucking killing me.
Inside, I find a space that defies my expectations.
The apartment is much larger than I would have guessed, the furnishings clearly expensive, the kitchen top of the line.
It doesn’t look at all like a college student’s place.
“Mason,” she says, watching me as I look around.
“He picked it out, he pays my rent.” She shrugs, embarrassed.
“He wanted to make sure I was somewhere safe.”
The words send a pang through my chest. Of course he would insist on that—Mason, my old friend, cares about his sister more than anything in the world.
And here I am, wondering exactly how hard I’ll need to spank her to get her talking. Jesus. I’m such an asshole.
“You want something to drink?” she asks, heading into the kitchen. I follow her, trying to brush off the thoughts of her brother. She needs me right now.
“Water is fine.” I watch while she pours us each a glass. She’s fidgeting a lot as she stands in front of me, fingers tracing the rim of her glass before traveling to her hair and then to her collarbone again.
That’s enough of that.
I lean in close to whisper in her ear, loving the way she shivers when my hot breath hits the sensitive skin of her neck.
“Take five minutes,” I tell her, voice low.
“Drink your water, use the restroom, wash your face. Whatever you need to do.” I nip her ear between my teeth and her shiver turns to a shudder.
“Then meet me in your bedroom. I’ll be waiting. ”
I don’t wait for her to respond, taking my water with me as I leave the kitchen. It isn’t difficult to decide which of the two rooms is hers. The smell of her permeates the air in the back bedroom, vanilla and roses and something unique to her that I can never quite put my finger on.
I take a moment to look around her room.
It’s orderly, just like she is in her work, her desk stacked neatly with notebooks and texts.
There are more books on the shelves, all organized by author name and genre.
On the walls are black and white prints of generic cityscapes, the double bed covered in a fluffy white quilt.
It’s a quiet, staid little room, and it reminds me of her. A facade of innocence hiding the passionate desires that lurk below the owner’s outer walls.
I take a seat on the edge of the bed, loosening my tie, and wait for her.