Chapter 10
Ten
Lucas
W ord travels fast. It takes my brother less than twenty-four hours to find out about my new roommate, and I’m willing to bet he didn’t waste a minute before texting me about it. I can just picture Caleb sitting smugly behind his desk at work with his phone in his hand, laughing about the fact that I now have a woman living in my house.
No doubt he’s making something out of nothing.
You and Sadie, huh?
I grimace down at his text message.
She’s renting the spare bedroom at my place.
Nothing more than that.
Right.
Dean rented a room at my place, too, remember?
I roll my eyes as I hustle across campus, staring down at my phone and trying to formulate a response. This is nothing like his situation with Dean.
First of all, I’m not going to be fucking my tenant.
Second of all, I won’t be settling down or falling in love with anyone. That business is for my brothers, not me. Everyone knows that.
Adam tried to fake date his now pregnant wife and look how that turned out for him.
As for Caleb, he did his best to resist the much younger man living in his rental unit, but when his wife jumped on board, the three of them couldn’t resist living in matrimonial bliss together.
And me? I’m married to my work, and I like it that way. I don’t date to marry, and I never have. The idea of marriage and children is repulsive to me, so I’m content with my life the way it is.
Unlike you, I know how to keep my dick in my pants.
That’s why you’re the boring twin.
No, just the smarter one.
I had two sets of lips wrapped around my dick last night. So you tell me who’s smarter.
Please keep that to yourself.
I have pictures if you want to see them.
I’ll block you.
He doesn’t text back— thank God —so I pocket my phone and continue my walk across campus. Sadie is in my class today, but after that, I have a meeting with the Stratford Project. I haven’t stopped thinking about it all week. It’s the only thing distracting me from the fact that I have a gorgeous woman living under my roof, one who apparently has an affinity for punishment and praise.
This living situation might be harder than I thought.
When I reach the classroom, the students are filling in, and I realize I’m not as early as I normally am. In fact, class is due to start in two minutes, and I’m not nearly prepared enough.
On top of that, Sadie’s usual seat is empty.
Frowning to myself, I put my laptop away and pull out my class notes along with the reading material for today.
When I start my lecture, she’s still not here. At first, I begin to worry. Maybe she had an accident on the way in, or something happened at the house.
But roughly fifteen minutes into the class, the doors open, and she slinks in with a wince, avoiding eye contact as if that somehow saves her from my scrutiny. I pause my lecture to clear my throat.
“Thanks for joining us, Miss Green,” I mutter under my breath.
“Sorry I’m late,” she replies.
“Class starts promptly at ten. Is that a problem for you?”
As she takes a seat, she grimaces at me. “No. At least I didn’t throw up this time.”
“You have a response for everything, don’t you?” I say.
“You have a complaint for everything, don’t you?” she replies, echoing my words back to me.
The other students in the classroom become blurry in my periphery as I glare at her.
She is out of line. She is always out of line.
“Please stay after class, Miss Green,” I mutter indignantly.
“Yes, sir,” she replies with enthusiasm, and I find my molars grinding. I don’t know what game she’s playing, but if she’s trying to push every button of mine, she’s succeeding. It’s like she sees insolence as a charming attribute rather than an infuriating flaw.
I’ll break her of it. I swear I will.
Ignoring her remark, I turn toward the rest of the lecture hall and continue my discussion on the American literary movement.
“The most popular book during this movement that I’m sure most of you have heard of is Moby Dick .” I hold up my copy of the book, and the students nod in recognition, typing their notes as they listen.
A small snicker from the left side of the room catches my attention. I turn my head to see Sadie smiling to herself as she jots down something in her notebook.
I should just leave it alone, but when it comes to her, it’s obvious I can’t seem to help myself.
“Is something funny, Miss Green?”
She looks up. “Oh, no,” she replies, giggling again as she returns her eyes to her paper.
Is she really so immature that she finds the title Moby Dick to be funny? Against my better judgment, I persist.
“No, please share why you think it’s appropriate to laugh during my presentation.”
Her eyes lift again, this time piercing me with a stubborn expression. “Fine,” she spits out with tenacity. “I was laughing because this guy and I used to use Moby Dick as a texting code with each other whenever we wanted to hook up. That’s what made me giggle. Happy now?”
The class erupts in laughter, but Sadie’s fearless gaze doesn’t leave my face—not even as my cheeks start to heat up. I have to fight the urge to drag her out of her seat and show her what happens to impudent brats when they act like she is right now.
Rebellious, sassy, bold brats like Sadie Green.
“That’s enough,” I bark, tearing my eyes away from her and focusing on the class. “Thank you for enlightening us, Miss Green. For the purpose of today’s lecture, we’re going to focus on Moby Dick , the novel.”
“Fine by me,” she mutters under her breath.
But even as I move on and make it through the rest of the class discussion, I can’t shake the tension that has burrowed itself in my bones. How can I let her get under my skin like this? What is it about this woman that drives me so mad? It’s not like she’s the first student to talk back or the first woman to give me hell. But there’s just something about Sadie that makes her different from the rest, and I wish I could put my finger on it.
After class ends and the students file out, Sadie doesn’t leave her seat. She sits in her spot, crosses her arms, and glares at me as she waits for the room to empty.
The moment the last student leaves and the door closes, we unleash on each other.
“What is your problem?” she shouts.
“Is it too much to ask that you show up on time?” I yell.
“You do realize that I’m not the only person who shows up late to a college class, right?”
“Yeah, well, you’re the only one who bothers me every single time you do it,” I argue.
“Why?” Her hands fly into the air as she stands from her seat. “What is your obsession with me? You hate everything I do and you take it all so personally!”
“Because I see your potential, Miss Green. I see how brilliant you are, and you’re wasting it!” My own statement takes me by surprise.
Her hands drop, and her face falls. “You think I’m brilliant?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I reply, turning away to begin packing up my things.
“Clearly, it does, Dr. Goode. You act as if your opinion of me matters more than anyone else’s.”
Do I?
“My opinion of you does not matter, Miss Green. What matters is that you have real potential. However, rather than utilizing that potential, you show up to class late and unprepared, and what’s worse, you disrupt the rest of the class with your giggles and comments. ”
She huffs with a sarcastic laugh, and I spin on her to see her face. “What’s so funny?” I ask.
“You. You’re hilarious if you think I’m the one disrupting class.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I take a step toward her. My palms start to itch, so I flex my hands in and out of fists to keep from doing something I shouldn’t.
She takes another step closer, and my mind rings with alarm bells. This is dangerous.
“It means you are the one disrupting the class. Everyone can see how obsessed you are with me! Did you even notice the guy who came in a whole five minutes after me? Did you say a word to him? No. You just want to make my life hell because, for some reason, you want to be a massive dick to me!”
“Watch your tone, Miss Green,” I say in warning.
Another step closer.
We’re toe to toe now.
I should back up, but I can’t.
“Or what?” she argues with her head tilted like she’s presenting a challenge. “What are you going to do, Dr. Goode?”
“You know what,” I grit through my teeth.
“Go ahead,” she whispers. “You know you want to.”
This is a mistake. A stupid, careless mistake, but she’s pushing me to do it, and she’s one-hundred-percent right. We both know I want to.
So I do something I never, ever do. I act without thinking. I don’t process the consequences and I don’t regard the warning signs.
I grab Sadie by the back of the neck, spinning her around to the nearest table. She doesn’t stop me or fight back. She lets me bend her over, letting out a gasp as I do.
A gasp that goes straight to my dick.
Holding her chest to the surface, she waits, gripping the edges as I stare down at her ass in those tight black leggings. The round, luscious surface of it perched up in anticipation .
With all of the anger boiling under my skin, I rear back my hand and spank her on the left side of her ass. Not hard enough to hurt her or the baby, but enough to show her .
Show her what…I don’t know.
She whimpers, gripping tighter to the table.
God, that felt good.
Too good.
So I lift my hand and do it again. And again. And again.
With each wallop on her ass, I grunt, leaning into the fervor and satisfaction of bringing her just a little bit of pain, making her feel how vehement I am. Like pouring my passion into her. It connects us. Makes us one.
It doesn’t make sense. Nothing with her makes sense.
But in some weird way, it makes more sense than anything else I’ve tried to understand in the past six weeks.
I lose count of how many times I spank her, but when my hands start to sting, and her voice grows higher, I stop. My arm is raised in midair, and I’m gazing down at her like I’m recovering from some out-of-body experience.
Quickly, I back away.
As the adrenaline starts to fade, I realize there is a throbbing inside my pants. I turn away from her to hide my raging erection.
She rises from the table, breathing hard but not saying a word.
“I’m sorry, I just?—”
I don’t finish my sentence. I’m interrupted by the sound of her footsteps as she sprints out of the room, letting the door slam behind her and leaving me alone with my shame.