Chapter 27
Cormac
October
The private medical library was my escape from the noise during my years at UCLA. The place where it’s just you and history. You either feel like a titan who can control it, or its messenger who follows the rules.
Now at Hamilton, it’s a place I often go to remind myself that I’m not God. I know what I know because of rooms like this.
My steps halt, seeing someone in there. And as luck has it, it’s Scarlett. But it’s not really a coincidence. She’s like me in many ways.
It’s been a week since she was in my office, on her knees, choking on my cock. It’s a movie I play over and over in my mind nearly every morning in the shower, where it ends with me spraying the wall with ropes of my cum.
I lick my lips, seeing Scarlett dressed in a long sweater, leggings tucked into boots, and her hair in that same high ponytail. I immediately imagine fisting it as I bend her over that library table and fuck her instead of shoving her underneath it.
Fuck, I can’t get her out of my mind. I’m in hell. I have to take a wife if I’m going to keep teaching.
Right now all I want is to put my face between the legs of my student and finally return the favor from that day in my office.
Her eyes dart across the pages she’s reading. Then, like she’s gotten a whiff of my cologne through the vents, she looks up. Recognition flashes across her face. Her cheeks blush, and God, I can still hear her request to just use each other for sex.
Professor with Benefits.
But I said no.
Her eyes are sad, she’s tired, and frustrated. God, I know that look. I know what every line on her face is from. Every blink. What every cup of coffee is trying to do. Stay awake. Fill your stomach. Ease a fix.
Without a word between us, she stands and opens the door for me.
My whole world is stripped down to this moment. No students watching. No baby crying from a cold. No Harrow needing me to kill someone.
And most dangerous? No pretense about this thing simmering between us.
“Morning,” I say quietly, the word pitched low enough that it won’t carry beyond the room.
“Morning,” she echoes.
Her pink cheeks from the crisp fall days frame a soft mouth I can still taste on my lips. And it’s a punch to the gut.
“Reading anything good?” I ask.
“I am, actually.” Her voice is light, like she’s holding a detonator to blow me up and smiling through it.
Because she is.
In her hands is an old copy of the Seattle Medical Herald.
I take a seat at the table across from her and exhale. “Any questions?”
“I only heard the story in passing. Like a myth, an old wives’ tale. It should be a movie. Doctor saves a kid’s life, and the hospital fires him for it. Makes me question if what I’m doing is worth it.”
“No,” I say, and pull the paper from her, folding it closed. “Never think that. It’s always worth it.”
“Would you do it again?”
“Yes.” My throat goes tight because no one’s ever asked me that. And I never truly knew if I would. Until right this second. “But I would handle the aftermath differently. I was young and cocky and walked away in spite. I fought for that little boy. But I didn’t fight for me.”
“Cormac,” Scarlett gasps, holding her chest. “That’s really profound.”
“I’m a profoundly complicated guy.” I sit back and clear my throat. “We should talk more about what happened last week.”
“Oh, you mean the part where you shoved me under your desk and fucked my face? No problem,” she says with a sarcastic little click of her tongue.
“That vivid visual reminder isn’t helping.”
“Or the part when you tried to blackmail me into marrying you. And if I didn’t, someone else would be…” She swallows hard, affected by my harsh threat all over again. “Sure. Let’s talk.”
She’s staring right at me, but she can’t see how her words are a knife to my ribs. Because she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what I’ve been through.
“It’s not just your father who wants me married. My family wants me to settle down, too. I’m dealing with other factors that go deeper than you can imagine, Scarlett.”
It’s also tied to getting visitation rights with my son. And this can’t be a game anymore. If it’s just about sex for her, then I have to back off.
The look she gives me is suspicious. Curious. Concerned. She’s connecting threads I don’t want her touching.
“And this wife you’re looking for, will it be a real marriage?” She’s asking if I can fuck someone else when I really want her.
“Probably,” I say, because her jealousy is addictive.
She looks like I slapped her. “You could have lied.”
“Time is running out,” I warn her. “I have to act, or your father won’t hire me full-time. And I need this job.”
She takes back the newspaper and starts roughly turning pages. Her tension is so thick it could choke me. I want to wrap her in my arms.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
She hesitates long enough to hurt me. “I will be.”
I stand to make my escape before I say something unforgivable and drag her into the nearest supply closet to convince her again. With my cock in her pussy this time, if that will help. “I’ll see you in class.”
“Sure.” She exhales, long and shaky.
It feels like that night at the hotel, when I walked away from her, certain that I would never get to touch her again.