Chapter 17
My thumb grazed the slip of lace hidden in my coat pocket, and I savored the rush it sent through me. Though it didn’t ease my desire for Ophelia. It worsened it. More so now that I knew what she felt like bent over and taking my cock in her perfect, tight little pussy.
Reminders of the best orgasm of my life haunted me each time she was near.
All my diligently built walls of self-restraint and discipline wavered in her presence.
I was overwhelmed with impulses to touch her, feel her, fuck her, claim her, and, and, and…
They were balancing on the edge of being savagely dismantled.
I no longer knew if I had the strength to deny my destruction.
Not if it came from her hands.
Ophelia sat at a lonely desk in the university library.
A favorite spot of her grandfather’s back in the day.
The image of her sitting there in Hunter’s shadow sent an aching wave of nostalgia through me.
She was so much like the man who saved my life.
Utterly brilliant with her studies and coursework, undaunted by the load of assignments dumped on her plate, she swiftly organized and scheduled her tasks before crushing them under the heel of her diligence.
She had been going to the library every day for the past week in her spare time.
It hadn’t gone unnoticed that she’d found Hunter’s notebook, and she had promptly decided to figure it out.
It occurred to me I should step in and stop her if only to save her the headache of learning the truth.
But I couldn’t bring myself to step out of the shadows and snatch the book from her eager little fingers.
Ophelia was so dedicated to unraveling the mystery of a man bearing importance to both our lives.
Almost like a shared tether. It felt wrong to break it.
And I couldn’t resist stealing the chance to observe her when she was engrossed in studying.
Reading and learning and digging out new information truly were her elements.
It was utterly fascinating to watch her and the way her mind consumed the pages she flipped through.
To see her puzzle through logic and find conclusions in nonsense.
She was brilliant.
Utterly brilliant.
Perhaps I had been too hasty in my conclusion.
Ophelia was leaps and bounds beyond the average student, including the Ivy League masses of Kilbride.
But she was still just a singular individual with too much on her plate.
Ophelia needed a partner who would provide for her when her mind hyper-focused on tasks or other fixations.
I had failed her.
Ophelia hadn’t been eating enough. She was running herself aground in her own private pursuits, and I couldn’t stand to watch her fail to care for herself one more day. Not when I could do something for her, to care for her. After all, she belonged to me. She was my responsibility now.
Half of the library lights went out, signaling the late hour. They would lock the doors soon and close for the night. Ophelia blinked, showing off red-rimmed eyes, and a surprised expression.
I remained in her shadow as she returned books to where she found them and packed her belongings. Only when she flounced downstairs and aimed for the exit did I round the corner of a tall stack of shelves. My action was perfectly timed, and our shoulders bumped.
She stumbled, and I shot out an arm to steady her.
“Apologies—ah, Miss Ashcroft.” I straightened her out on her own two feet, biting down a smirk as she gazed at me with her large, luminous brown eyes. My heart skipped in the second that passed.
“Prof-professor. Why…” she cleared her throat, “why are you here so late?”
My gaze dripped down her figure. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Research.” Her arms crossed, yet it didn’t hide the pink flush creeping up her cheeks. “Are students no longer allowed to study for their assignments?”
“I’d prefer if more of them did so.”
“Right, of course. I’m not surprised to hear that from the man who boasts about students failing his classes.”
I playfully rolled my eyes. “Now you’re just being a brat, Miss Ashcroft.” Exactly the way I preferred her.
Ophelia offered an exaggerated shrug.
I raised a brow at her in challenge.
“What does it matter?” She gestured at me, stressing the distance between us. “And why do you care?”
“This school—” I started.
“I’m already overwhelmed. I don’t need to hear that speech again,” she cut me off. That was when I got a closeup of her frazzled state. Her nerves seemed worn thin, and she couldn’t stop flicking her eyes around us as if searching for something about to pounce.
It was absolutely perfect timing for me. Exactly what I needed to teach the little brat a lesson—to prove to her that she needed me.
“So, you admit that you aren’t able to handle yourself?” I asked.
She held up a finger to me. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to.” The corner of my mouth twitched into a smirk. Her glower deepened. “Why don’t you come with me?”
Her expression melted in surprise. “Where to?”
“Dinner. It’s late, and I’m sure you’re hungry.” She had coffee that morning and nothing else all day. If she declined, I had half a mind to throw her over my shoulder.
Ophelia shifted from foot to foot, seemingly weighing her options. It wasn’t long before she nodded, sighing her answer. “Fine.”
Soon, we were bracing the chill outside, and I was guiding her to my car in the teacher’s parking lot.
Her eyes widened at the black Chevrolet Impala, but she didn’t speak a word as I opened the passenger door for her.
With the engine purring, I blasted the heat and drove away from the sometimes oppressive gaze of the university.
Silence accompanied us. Not a painful one, but something companionable if fluttering with nerves. I wondered if she was remembering our encounter at the pub like I was. Or if she wanted another round.
“So,” she shifted in her seat, betraying her anxiety, “where are you taking me?”
“Are burgers okay?”
“Oh, yes, please!” She perked up, and my insides trembled. She was pleased with my choice. And I hoped to keep pleasing her.
It wasn’t long before we left town and I pulled up at an old-fashioned diner. A white building with a red and yellow awning, sitting at an angle. An old joint known for the best milkshakes in the area. Ophelia’s eyes lit up when she saw it.
“Wait here,” I ordered before opening the door.
“But—”
“I’ll be right back.” She huffed and crossed her arms but sank into the seat once more. A smile jerked across my lips as I swung open the door and strolled inside. It was lovely to have her obeying, even if it was only because she was tired.
With two bags in hand, I returned to the car.
Ophelia was nearly panting at the mouthwatering smell of cheese and fries perfuming the Impala’s interior.
She must have been hungrier than I thought because she didn’t ask where we were going as I steered further from town and deeper into the woods.
Her eyes remained glued to the white bags, ignoring the twinkling stars in the night sky or the barren trees reaching across the road like skeletal hands.
Ophelia was so drunk on the smell of food she didn’t blink until the engine stopped. I turned off the headlights, allowing her to take in the full brunt of the scene sprawling ahead. When her jaw dropped, my heart did a flip behind my ribs.
“What is this place?” She leaned forward, placing one delicate hand on the dash to peer at the steep drop and glittering town spreading across her vision.
“It was a park ages ago. Until it fell out of popularity. No one comes here anymore.” After a hoard of stolas massacred a group of campers in the area. But that wasn't a pleasant conversation to bring up. I certainly didn’t want to worry her.
“Wow, the view…” she trailed off, breath suspended in disbelief. “It’s lovely.”
“Yes, very.” My eyes were on her.
The wind picked up, howling outside the warm confines of the car.
We sat in darkness, eating in remote silence.
Aside from the little moans that escaped her throat with each crispy french fry she savored.
It made my pants tighten and wicked images rise to the front of my thoughts.
I didn’t even taste the burger. I was too busy imagining my cock slipping through her lips and painting her tongue with my come.
The stretch of time and the ease of the quiet gave me time to reflect.
From the bottom of my very being, I knew I wasn’t a virtuous person.
I wasn’t clean or innocent. Sometimes I looked in the mirror and swore I could see the seething, rabid thing living between my ribs clawing to get out.
A broken and feral creature caged, but only for the moment.
There was no telling how much longer I could keep dragging it back into my chest before it spilled over.
And Ophelia, she was a stubborn bud wrapped in floral petals. A sweet thing in a natural sense. Like honey sticking to the lips.
As if feeling my gaze, she looked at me with a fire in her eyes. One that made me forget my own name, my past, and all the trauma bundled up in the tender meat of my insides. I couldn’t help wanting to cradle her in my hands and replace my beating heart with her.
Hot air increased the rising tension between us. With each passing second, an unspoken future unraveled, and anticipation tingled along my skin. Despite the days apart, that mutual hunger returned with a volcanic fervor ready to erupt.
“What are we doing out here, Professor?” she asked. Her lashes fluttered, and her parted lips drew my gaze.
“I’m not really sure.” Pressure built inside me, and my restraint trembled in my grasp. “Perhaps I wanted to see what would happen if I got you alone again.”
Her breathing hitched. She licked her lips unconsciously, leaning closer.
“And? We’re alone.”
The tether in my chest connecting me to her went taut and nearly snapped. “Yes, we are.”