Chapter 35
Dakota
I couldn’t quit fidgeting in my seat, constantly checking the time on my phone, anxiety winding a knot in my gut.
“Do you need to leave?” Dr. Killshaw asked, making me jump with the suddenness of his question in the quiet room.
My wide eyes flew to his, finding his brow arched. “Um. Yes. The bus is going to stop running soon, and—”
“I’m happy to take you home.”
“No.” I shook my head, face warming, palms sweating. Not this bullshit again. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to make sure you’re safe, and—” he looked at his watch “—you’re probably going to need to leave right now and run if you want to make the bus.”
My heart clenched in my chest, nerves making my stomach twist. I shook my head again—pointlessly, because he was right; it was already too late—trying not to freak out.
It was so similar to the time Mason locked me in his car, let me sleep for hours, that my panic was only multiplying.
Now I was thinking about Mason, about his car, about him fucking me and holding me underwater and hurting me and how I still wanted him anyway—
“Dakota,” Dr. Killshaw said, cutting through my racing thoughts. “It’s not a big deal.”
Right. Because Dr. Killshaw wasn’t Mason. He was different. Safer, in some twisted way.
“Are you sure?” I asked, my tone bordering on fearful.
“Yes?” He said it like a question, like he wasn’t sure why my reaction was this way. Is this normal? Or not? I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything.
“Okay,” I said rapidly, the word a quick blip in the tense atmosphere.
“Okay,” he repeated. “I’ll start shutting things down, then.”
It wasn’t long before we were walking out of the building together under cover of darkness, making our way across an empty campus towards the faculty parking lot. The wind cutting across the lawn was cold, stirring dry, brown leaves on the grass and making my hair tangle around me.
There were only a handful of cars in the dark lot, and I had no guesses as to which one belonged to my professor.
None of them seemed to fit the image I had in my mind.
He led me to an old tan Chevy truck, well-kept for its age.
He opened the passenger door and I hopped in, the bench seat smooth under my palms. I dropped my bag at my feet and waited for him to reach the driver’s side.
The door opened with a creak and Dr. Killshaw climbed in, then slammed it shut. He started the engine. I couldn’t help noticing how much space he took up in the cab.
“I didn’t expect that you would have a car like this,” I commented, idly running my fingertips over the leather seat.
“I have two cars. One is at my house.”
“What’s the other.”
“Audi A7.”
“Why do you drive this if you have that?” I couldn’t imagine having such a nice car and choosing not to use it.
Sometimes I thought about trying to buy a really cheap used car, but I was afraid of using up all my savings to buy something that would eventually need expensive repairs, and gas every week.
There was an unavoidable level of uncertainty with owning a car, and I couldn’t afford uncertainty.
“I do drive the other car, just not today. I like this one. I’ve had it for a while.”
“Oh, okay.” I looked out the window, the bench seat inspiring a myriad of sweaty fantasies in my brain.
“Could I have your address?”
Fuck. I forgot why I was actually in here.
For some reason, I didn’t want to give him my actual address. After a too-long pause that likely made him suspicious of me, I gave him the address to Mila’s apartment. He didn’t question me, though.
“I know you heard what Nick said,” he said as we pulled out of the lot.
“What?” My voice came out thick, so I cleared my throat.
“And I also know you heard how I responded to him. Then you disappeared before I asked him to leave.”
“I thought you said he had other responsibilities to tend to.” I started messing with my silver locket, twisting it on the chain, sliding my fingernail under the clasp to open it, then clicking it shut.
“I lied. He left because I told him to.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I’m aware. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Okay,” I breathed, trembling palms pressing against my thighs. I hate being reminded of how everyone else perceives me. I hate that I’m like this at all.
I sniffled, turning to stare out my window.
“You don’t have to hide your face,” Dr. Killshaw said, kind and serious at the same time.
“You want me to cry in front of you?” I glanced over at him, a hiccup spasming in my chest.
“Hmm.” He hummed, contemplative, thumb tapping on the wheel. “It’s not a bad thing to cry.”
“Feels bad.”
“Alright. Just know I don’t mind.”
“That seems inappropriate.”
“Does it? Can’t think of how crying would be inappropriate.”
Is he…saying something?
I could think of ways crying might be inappropriate.
The space inside the cab seemed to shrink; the air seemed to get even darker, my awareness narrowing to only the man sitting beside me. I could slide across the seat if I wanted, press my body to his. I watched his strong fingers flex on the steering wheel, imagined how they’d feel inside me.
Heat flushed my veins, burning through my blood. It was humiliating, how quickly my body betrayed me, slickness gathering between my legs. He stood up for me. He protected me. The ache in my core throbbed, like a wound. An old wound no one had ever really tended to.
“You can use my first name when we’re alone,” he said, shocking me.
“Really?”
“Why not? I’m spending a lot of time with you.”
“Okay…” I breathed.
In my peripheral, I saw Dr. Killshaw—Micah—glance over in my direction. But I thought if I looked back now, I would do something really stupid. So my stare remained locked on the road. I really, really wanted to touch him. Just to feel the solidness of his body.
“You’re not as unreadable as you think you are,” he said, adjusting his grip on the wheel again.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Yes you do.”
It almost sounded like a threat, a warning in disguise.
“I don’t.”
“Then what are you thinking about doing right now?”
Without considering the consequences of my behavior, I reached toward him and prodded his bicep with my finger. His heat and strength were so evident through his shirt, even under the touch of my one finger. I didn’t pull away.
“That’s it?”
“Are you unsatisfied?”
“I just think you’re lying.”
Tentatively, I flattened my palm on his arm, tightening my fingers on the bulk of his muscle.
“Masters,” he warned. “Don’t grope me.”
“I’m not.” I squeezed harder, moving up toward his shoulder, the nighttime making me bold.
“If I did this to you, what would you call it?”
“I’d call it nothing.”
He took his hand off the steering wheel, then grabbed my upper arm, still watching the road. When I didn’t say anything, he moved higher. Slowly, like he was waiting for me to react, to admit my lie. His palm molded to the slope of my shoulder, fingers extending toward my neck.
The instant the tip of his finger made contact with my bare skin above my neckline, I gasped softly, swallowing a whine.
And he retracted his hand.
Neither of us spoke another word until Dr. Killshaw pulled into the parking lot of Mila’s apartment, navigating to a space near her unit. My throat had gone dry and useless. It was difficult to be in such a small space with him, to smell him, and not do anything about it.
“I’ll walk you up,” he said as he shifted the truck into park. My eyes went wide.
“No! No, it’s really okay—”
“Not a problem. I’d like to ensure you get inside safely.”
Great. He’s a gentleman.
I shoved open my door, hastily shooting off a series of rapid-fire texts to Mila, hoping she was awake and she’d see them before we were standing on her doormat.
Dr. Killshaw was waiting for me around the front of the truck so I shoved my phone into the pocket of my jeans and headed off across the parking lot, my heart slamming on my ribs. My lie was about to catch up with me.
I pressed my lips together, not looking at him as we went up the outdoor stairs towards Mila’s second-floor apartment. Dim lights shone from beside the unit doors, a few moths lazily drifting around the yellow glow, bumping on the plastic.
My phone had not buzzed once.
I was fully dragging my feet by the time we finally approached the door. Shit.
“I…forgot my keys,” I lied, hoping it sounded convincing enough. “Let me just…call my roommate.” Please, Mila. For the love of God.
I got out my phone and pressed on her contact with shaky hands, raising the phone to my ear and saying a silent prayer that she’d wake up. It rang…and rang… Then it was silent, save for some shuffling and a groan.
“Hey! So sorry, but I’m outside,” I said to the noise of blankets moving against each other.
“Chto za khuynya? I—shit, Kota—what?” Her voice was groggy.
“I forgot my key and—”
“Since when did you have a fucking key—” She was wide awake now.
“Can you come let me in?” I asked quickly, cutting her off in case Dr. Killshaw could somehow hear her voice from the quiet speaker on my phone. The sound of the call ending played in my ear, and I clutched my phone tighter, hoping that meant she was coming to the door.
I looked at Dr. Killshaw, who seemed too intrigued by this whole thing.
Finally, the door flung open, Mila standing there in a tank top and sleep shorts, hair in a messy bun, rubbing her eyes.
“Dakota, what—” She froze, eyes shooting wide open when she noticed who was standing behind me.
I shoved her back inside, grabbing the door in a rush. “Thank you for the ride, Micah,” I said quickly over my shoulder, catching his eye. He nodded and I swore he had a physical reaction to me saying his first name.
And then I slammed the door shut and turned the deadbolt, slumping back against the wood with my heartbeat racing, about to break free of my ribs. I slid down the door until my butt hit the ground, my knees at my chest.
“Thank you for the ride?” Mila whisper-shouted. “The ride? Please tell me that means what I hope it does.”
“God, Mila—no. No, it doesn’t.”
“I would ride the fuck out of that man. Until his dick falls off. I’m about to open the door and lock you out there so he has to take you back to his place.”
“Please don’t,” I pleaded, pressing back against the door to hold it shut tight. “Please. I told him I lived here.”
“Ohhhh. That’s why you were saying you forgot your key.” She let out a long breath. “I thought Vanya made one for you or something weird like that—not that you can’t have a key if you want it, I just—”
“No, no. I felt like I had to make the roommate thing believable.”
“God, babe, he is so hot. Who even was that?”
I paused, mouth half-open. She didn’t recognize him?
“My professor? The one we’ve been talking about all semester…” I trailed off.
Her eyes were faraway, like she was trying to remember. “Oh, right. Okay, I think I remember. I don’t know how I could forget someone that hot. It’s late.” She giggled. “Anyway, I don’t know how you’re able to focus in class.”
“What choice do I have? He’s not interested, obviously. It wouldn’t be a good idea. It’s not like he’s just some man, he’s my professor. Like it or not, that means something.”
But now I was thinking about riding his cock. Sitting on his lap, rocking my hips, grinding on him, sweating and panting and—fuck—orgasming on his dick.
“Why were you with him so late? And did you call him his first name?” she asked, dragging me up from the ground and towing me behind her into her bedroom. She had a salt lamp on her nightstand casting a soft orange glow over everything. “That’s very…casual.”
“Well, we were in the lab. He did tell me ahead of time it was going to take all day—I just didn’t know that meant all day. And the busses don’t run this late.”
“So you just spent upwards of twelve hours with that man?”
“With breaks.”
“Was anyone else with you?” She snatched her sleep mask off her pillow, climbing onto her bed.
“Mostly not…” I set my stuff down, stripping off my jeans and digging through Mila’s pajama drawer. “Mila—It’s not what you think it is. He’s…I don’t know. It’s very much engineering-only when I’m with him.” Except when he looks at me like that…
“I know you’re lying, but my exhaustion is catching up with me.” She yawned as she yanked the covers up her body, sliding the sleep mask over her eyes. “Tell me in the morning.”
“Okay,” I whispered, laughing to myself.
I changed into some of Mila’s pajamas, then used the bathroom before climbing in bed with her, eyes drifting shut as my mind latched on to every nasty fantasy I could think up about Micah Killshaw.