Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ADONIS
Adonis
Are we back to avoidance?
Clover
What?
Adonis
I haven’t seen you all week. You even missed my lecture and canceled our meeting. Are you avoiding me again?
Clover
No, I messaged you and told you I was sick. That’s why I missed class.
Adonis
It feels like you’re avoiding me.
Clover
I promise I’m not.
Adonis: If you say so.
Clover
I do.
I nsecurity is bullshit. I’ve read and reread my text communications with Clover so many times it borders on unhealthy and insanity.
Fucking her again was supposed to get her out of my system. It was supposed to quench these urges and make them go away. Permanently.
Unfortunately, the opposite happened. I want her even more than I did before.
It’s like this woman was made for me, and yet I can’t have her.
Not only does the thrill of public sex excite her, but she also likes it rough and demanding. The more aggressive I got with her, the more excited she became.
There are no words to explain how pleased and relieved I was that she enjoyed the way I fucked her up against the bookcase in my office.
She didn’t just enjoy it. She loved it and begged for more.
And I want to give her so much more. Hell, I think I need it more than I need air right now.
I feel bad for all the marks on her body, but they also fill me with a sense of pride and ownership. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before. It has me completely unnerved.
I hate this feeling. Weak. Vulnerable. Needy.
I’m tied up in knots over not seeing her for over a week. She swears it’s because she caught the flu and has been isolated in her apartment.
I want to believe her. She’s given me no reason to doubt the truthfulness of her words.
But self-doubt is a bitch, and it’s attacking me like an army of fire ants.
I need to see her.
Now.
It’s the only thing that’s going to calm the storm brewing inside me. No amount of text messages of reassurances is going to be enough to squash these insipid thoughts.
I check the time and it’s already past 11:30 a.m. She has to be in by now. She said she was finally well enough to come in to work today. I expected her to come see me first thing.
But here I sit—like a fool—waiting for her.
I slam my fist on top of my desk and growl. My productivity this week has been shit and I can’t concentrate on anything. I’m behind on my research. I haven’t graded the essays my students turned in last week.
Because my thoughts are consumed by her .
She has put a spell on me. Captivated me in a way no other woman ever has. Lulu didn’t have this effect on me. And I thought I loved her. Hell, I moved in with her. But I never craved her the way I crave Clover.
I hate this craving. It feels like an addiction. It’s taken hold of me, and I won’t be satisfied until I get another hit.
I am so fucked.
Determined to see her, I scribble a message on a note. Then I grab the mark ups of Maggie’s proposal and Clover’s draft chapters to her dissertation. I stick the note on top of Clover’s paper and head upstairs. If she won’t come to me, then I’ll go to her.
I may not have gotten anything else done this week, but I read their work. That’s something I suppose.
Normally, I’d wait until our next scheduled meeting to give these to them, but I need a good excuse to go to the grad student offices. This is the best I’ve got.
I so rarely visit those offices. Until now, the only student I had was Maggie. I sure as hell
With my head down, I rush down the hallway, avoiding eye contact with anyone I pass. The last thing I’m in the mood for is small talk with my colleagues. I’m in such a shit mood, I’m liable to snap if someone tries to talk to me. A side effect of my anxiety.
When I hit the stairwell, I break into a sprint. I can’t get there fast enough. The only thing that will end these anxious thoughts is seeing her again. Maybe then, I’ll be able to get back to my routine.
The grad student office door is open, so I barge in. I toss Maggie’s proposal on her desk. She looks up at me in confusion.
“What’s this?” she asks, but I don’t answer her. My focus is on the brunette with pink in her hair sitting at her desk with her back to the door.
She’s here. Which means my gut was right. She’s avoiding me.
“Dr. Rosi?” Maggie looks confused.
“My comments on your proposal,” I say. “Our discussion at next week’s meeting will be more productive if you have my thoughts ahead of time.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond before I barge across the room. I toss Clover’s draft dissertation on top of the book she’s currently absorbed in. She jumps and pulls her earbuds out of her ears.
She presses her hand to her chest and stares up at me in surprise. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Feeling better?” I ask a little too harshly.
“Um, yes.” She clears her throat as if she’s trying not to cough. Her voice is scratchy, and her nose is red and swollen. She wasn’t lying about being sick. That makes me feel marginally better. “I’m really sorry about missing class. If you need help with those essays, I’m happy to grade them for you.”
“I am behind.” I admit. “But I’ll grade them myself.”
“Okay,” she says hesitantly. Then she lowers her voice. “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”
I don’t answer her. Instead, I tap the top of her papers, so she sees the note I left.
Dinner tonight at 8 p.m.
Her eyes widen, and her expression turns to panic when she looks up at me. “I can’t.”
I lean down and whisper so only she can hear me. “You can and you will.”
I spin on my heel and head for the door before she can object again. Maggie is watching us with a curious look on her face.
“Dr. Rosi. I can’t meet this deadline,” Clover calls out, but I don’t stop to answer her.
“Is there something I can help with?” I hear Maggie ask. “I’m great with research.”
“No,” Clover responds as her chair scrapes across the floor. “Dr. Rosi, wait.”
I keep walking. I hear the clacking of her shoes right behind me.
“Please, sir,” she begs.
I pick up my pace as I head back to my office. If we’re going to have this discussion, it’s going to be behind closed doors where no one else can hear.
When I reach my office, I step inside, making room for her to follow. Once she’s inside. I shut the door and push her against it.
“Why didn’t you come see me this morning?” I ask.
“Dr. Rosi, please.”
“Please what?” I brush her hair back from her face. “Don’t touch you? Kiss you? Look at you like I can’t wait to devour you again? Tell me what it is you want or don’t want from me because I’m confused.”
“You’re my faculty advisor,” she says like this is news to me. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“A little late for that, don’t you think?” My voice is rough and harsher than it should be. I know she’s being reasonable, but my desire for her outweighs anything sensible and logical.
“Being sick gave me time to think.” Tears prick her eyes. “While I don’t regret anything, I’m don’t think it’s wise for us to continue down this path.”
I chuckle, but there’s nothing cheerful about the sound that leaves me. “Tell me you won’t be soaked if I stuff my hand into your pants. You want me just as much as I want you.”
“Oh, god.” She squeezes her eyes closed and shakes her head. I feel her body calling to me, begging me to touch her. To make her feel all the same things I feel burning inside of me. But there’s something else raging inside her too.
“What is it?” I ask, suddenly feeling like the asshole that I am. I’ve been so focused on my anxiety and fears I haven’t stopped long enough to consider hers.
She takes a deep breath and composes herself before she looks at me. She reaches up and cups my cheeks between her hands. There are no words to describe the relief I feel from her touch. It’s calming in a way nothing has ever calmed me before.
“I’m scared,” she whispers. “We can’t get caught. We both have too much to lose.”
“Then let’s not get caught,” I say right before I slam my mouth over hers.
Her lips parts, and she welcomes my kiss freely. Our tongues duel as we lick and nip at each other like we can’t get close enough.
She wraps her arms around my neck and lifts her leg around my hip, pulling us closer together. I slide my hands under her ass and lift her into my arms. Through this kiss, we become one.
“What are you doing to me?” I whisper between kisses. Her lips are like a drug. One kiss will never be enough to quench this desire.
“The same thing you’re doing to me,” she replies.
I press her against the wall and grind my erection into her core. I want nothing more than to rip our clothes off and fuck her, but it’s too risky. Last week’s tryst was a risk neither of us should have taken.
Despite how painful it is, I pull my lips from hers.
“We have to stop,” I say as I brush her hair behind her ear, and then cup her cheek. “We can’t screw this up.”
She nods and slowly unwraps her arms and legs from my body. I slide her to her feet and take a few steps back.
“No, we can’t.” She adjusts her clothes so they’re back in place and then runs her fingers through her hair. It’s still a little messed up despite her efforts. “We can’t let this happen during work hours. It’s not safe.”
“Agree. We can control ourselves.”
She nods, but her expression says she’s not so sure about that.
“Dinner with me tonight,” I say. It’s not a question, but more of a command. “You will not stand me up.”
A slow smile lifts her lips. “No, I won’t.”
I step closer to her so I can run my finger along her jawline and down the length of her neck. She sighs at the touch. “And you will not avoid me ever again.”
She shakes her head. “I won’t.”
“Good girl.” I press a gentle kiss to her lips. Then I turn her around and spank her ass hard. She sucks in a breath as her head falls back and rests on my chest. “Get back to work, little minx.”
“Yes, sir,” she whimpers and steps out of my reach. “Eight o’clock.” She confirms before she opens the door and leaves.
Eager for my date with Clover, I arrive at the restaurant fifteen minutes early. I can’t stop pacing in a fit of anxious energy and fear. She said she’d be here, but I can’t get the idea out of my head that she won’t show up.
She’s still hesitant about pursuing whatever this is that’s going on between us. I don’t blame her. The smart thing to do would be to ignore it and remain professional.
Fuck professional.
I want her. Badly.
And I never want anyone.
It’s confusing and unfamiliar. I’ve never felt a pull toward another person in the way she pulls me toward her. It’s terrifying and thrilling and completely unavoidable.
Right or wrong, I need to figure out why I’m drawn to her. She consumes my every thought, and it’s killing my productivity at work.
Work needs to be priority number one. Not some woman I had a one-night stand with at a nightclub. Though we moved way past a one-night stand.
She’s my student, for crying out loud. I shouldn’t be having dinner with her. It’s bad enough that I fucked her before I knew who she was. Now that I know, I should keep my distance.
A smart man would go home and forget all about her.
Clearly, I’m not a smart man.
I check the time on my phone and it’s exactly 8:00 p.m. She’s not here yet and my nerves kick into overdrive.
I bunch my scarf around my neck and continue pacing down the sidewalk. I feel the cold air, but I’m unaffected by it. It’s late February, and we had some more snowfall this week. Not a lot, but enough that there’s still snow on the ground.
I kick a small pebble and sigh. Maybe I can distract myself by brainstorming ideas for my next article. A piece I wrote on Homer was just accepted for publication in a classical arts magazine. Now that it’s published, I need to make a list of new ideas.
I spin around to head back toward the restaurant and freeze when I my eyes land on Clover. I press my hand to my chest and take in a deep breath.
She usually wears her hair straight, but tonight it hangs in bright pink ringlets around her neck. The coat she’s wearing is a deep purple and form-fitting to her figure. My eyes roam down her body, following the lines of her chest, waist, and hips.
Heat flares inside me as I take in the bare skin between the hem of her jacket and the high-heeled knee-high boots she’s wearing.
She’s stunning.
And for tonight, she’s all mine.
She smiles and lifts her hand, wiggling her fingers in the air as a wave. I march up to her, slide my hand around her neck, and pull her mouth to mine. My tongue glides past her lips, and my senses are overwhelmed with a mix of mint and strawberries.
I break the kiss and take a deep breath. She may taste like mint and strawberries, but she smells like vanilla.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly when our eyes meet.
“You came,” I say, and then cringe at the doubt I hear in my voice.
Her smile softens, and she reaches up to cup my cheek. My anxiety instantly calms, and I feel more relaxed than I’ve felt all day. It confuses me how one minute my anxiety can be at its worst—mostly because of thoughts about her—and then it’s soothed as soon as she’s near. No one has ever had this effect on me before.
“Of course I came,” she says.
I place my hand over hers and lace our fingers together. “Shall we go in?”
She nods and I lead her inside. The hostess seats us right away at a small table for two near the back of the restaurant. Normally, I’d ask for a larger table—maybe a booth along the side wall—but this is more private and intimate. No one will notice us back here.
“Their steaks are good if you like red meat,” I say after the hostess hands us our menus and leaves. “So is the tuna, if you prefer fish.”
“You eat here often,” she asks.
“A few times with my brothers. We hosted Indigo’s birthday dinner here. Everything we ordered was fantastic.”
“Indigo?” she asks.
“Oh, sorry.” I take a sip of water. “That’s my brother’s girlfriend. They actually met through work too.”
“Is he also a professor?” she asks in a teasing tone.
I shake my head. “He’s in tech. Writes code and develops software. Indigo is his boss’s daughter. It was all a big scandal but now they’re happy.”
“A family trait, I take it.” She laughs, but I hear a hint of panic in her voice. She diverts her eyes like she’s nervous.
I reach across the table and take her hand. “It’s only a scandal if we get caught. And even then, I don’t think it’ll be that big of a deal.”
She nods quickly and lifts her water glass. She downs half the glass in one long drink.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.
“No,” she says too quickly. “I’m just nervous. I haven’t been on a date in a really long time. School consumes most of my time. Dinner out with a guy—let alone my advisor—is uncommon.”
I lace our fingers together again and lift them to my lips. “The same is true for me. I don’t date often. Or ever, really.”
“Too busy working?” she teases.
I nod. “There’s a lot of pressure to get tenure. I can’t let myself get distracted, or else I’ll fall short. I won’t get a second chance if I screw it up.”
“I understand, really, I do. We rarely get second chances. I think that’s why I’m so nervous about us. I already had to leave one university. If I mess this up, it’ll likely ruin my career prospects.”
I sit back in my seat, still holding her hand in mine. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened at Harvard?”
She looks down at her lap and sighs. “Do we have to talk about that?”
“No, but I really hope that you’ll trust me with it someday.” I admit. Thanks to Lulu, trusting women is a struggle. That’s why I hate this secret between us. It makes me doubt her intentions. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge you for it.”
“You say that now because you don’t know what it is.” She looks up at me through her lashes. The vulnerable I see reflecting back at me puts me a little more at ease. She’s afraid to tell me.
“Nothing will ever influence my opinion of you.” As soon as the words are out, I realize they’re true. Despite my trust issues, I think she’s a great person.
She nods and looks down at her lap. There’s a sadness in her eyes that I think she’s trying to hide from me. “My parents made me leave. My dad said if I didn’t come home, he’d stop paying my tuition. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Oh.” I furrow my brows. “Why would—”
“Donnie!” a female voice I recognize calls through the restaurant. I look around and see Sydney waving as she and Dylan walk toward us.
“Shit,” I mumble and quickly let go of Clover’s hand, but not before Sydney saw it.
Clover’s eyes widen as looks over her shoulder to see who it is that’s coming. She relaxes, but only slightly, when she sees it’s not someone we both know.
I push to my feet to greet my friends. “Hi Sydney.” I kiss her on the cheek and then hold my hand out to her husband. “Dylan.”
Sydney’s smile grows as she looks down at Clover. “It’s so good to see you’re dating again.”
“Oh, no.” Clover shakes her head and gives off a nervous laugh. “We’re not dating. I’m one of his students.”
I cringe at her admission. I’m sure it sounds innocent enough to her, but she doesn’t know Sydney saw us holding hands.
“Oh, I see.” Sydney looks at me with raised brows.
“This is Clover,” I say. “She just joined my program. We’re discussing her proposal. Clover, this is Sydney and her husband, Dylan. He’s actually my brother Demetrius’s best friend and co-worker.”
“Where is that brother of yours?” Dylan asked. “He’s been scarce lately.”
“I assumed he’s working. Though I haven’t been at the apartment much lately either except to sleep.”
Dylan shakes his head. “He’s working his shifts and then disappearing. He used to eat dinner with us a few times a week.”
“You know how he can get when he meets a new girl. He probably doesn’t want to admit he found one he likes.”
“Maybe,” Dylan says, but he doesn’t sound like he believes it. “When you see him, tell him his best friend would like to hang out.”
“I will.”
“Well, I just wanted to say hi.” Sydney smiles and looks down at Clover again. She may be smiling but her eyes say she disapproves of this dinner. “I don’t want to interrupt your … meeting .”
The way she says meeting sends a wave of panic through my chest. She suspects exactly what I don’t want her or anyone else in my family to know—that I’m dating my student. If she tells my brothers, I’m toast. They’ll never stop razzing me about it.
“It was good seeing you both.” I wave as they walk back toward the front of the restaurant.
I plop back down in my seat and sigh.
So much for not being noticed.