Chapter 36 #2
My breath hitched when the second part of his statement registered.
He was investigating Rayyan, a dead person who should be allowed to rest in peace.
Sure, Rayyan hadn’t been a good person by any standard—vicious in nature with an addiction to drugs, alcohol, and gambling.
One time, he had gone so overboard with an escort that the family stepped in to pay for reparations.
Nonetheless, he was my brother. Neither of us admitted it out loud, and now he was dead and we’d never get that closure. The thought haunted me.
“Whatever you have against me, leave my family out of it. I don’t want you spying on them.”
“I need leverage to deal with your father?—”
“This isn’t about my father,” I cut him off.
His eyes searched my face for the truth. “Then I’ll give you another chance to come clean. Tell me the real reason you’re pushing me away.”
I considered disclosing the truth, that I mistook him for Damon. There was only one thing stopping me. I didn’t want to be the catalyst to drag his childhood memories to the surface.
As I had expected, he saw my silence as defiance, whereas it was compassion.
“Tell me, so I can find a solution,” he asked, some of his control wavering with frustration.
“Why can’t you just accept that I don’t want to be with you?” I whispered, hoping he would take me at my word.
An unreadable expression crossed his face. His relentlessly probing eyes dissected me, and I nearly wilted under his glower. My chest tightened at the hollow recognition in his gaze, and I opened my mouth to apologize.
But he spoke first. “My mother was convinced I was a psychotic monster.” He kept watching me, letting the sentence sink in. “She was right.”
The words hung between us as my mind scrambled to process the sudden shift in conversation. He had never spoken to me about his mother. I was glad I had kept my mouth shut about Damon. Old wounds had been reopened, and it revolved around his mother choosing his brother over him.
The sadness I felt over his childhood clawed at my heart. But his face was perfectly blank, every emotion canceled out. He was stating facts, not at all interested in the pain behind them.
“Not only her. Everyone was terrified of the big, bad wolf.” He shook his head.
“Except you. It was stupid to let me in because you should’ve known I wouldn’t let you go.
Being near you woke something I’ve never felt before, and that’s why I don’t accept your answer.
You do want me, I felt it every time you stared at me, baked for me, left me notes.
You say you can’t bear to be touched, but you fucking melt when you’re under me. ”
His gaze traveled slowly down my face before settling on my lips, lingering there with unsettling intensity as the words left him.
“I’ve been trying to figure you out for months.
The way you hate taking credit for a job well done but have no problem being the fall guy when others fuck up.
The way you stand on the sidelines while your friends take center stage.
You’re a guest in your own life, barely connected to your environment.
” Something dark rippled behind his eyes.
“You and I are the same. I don’t feel connected to anything other than you.
That was how I knew you belonged to me.”
My pulse thrashed like a trapped bird beneath my skin. Something wild and desperate climbed up my throat, urging me to howl until his words disappeared beneath the noise.
Professor Maxwell’s fingers locked around my elbow again before he tugged me to his chest, his shadow swallowing me whole. An amber and cedar cologne filled my lungs until I couldn’t breathe. I silently prayed for someone—anyone—to enter the room, though I knew no one would.
I tried pushing away from him. In response, his fingers clamped around my elbow like a throbbing bracelet of pain.
“I told you, my mother was right. She saw me for what I truly was. You baited a monster, and now you have to bear the consequences.” He massaged my elbow, willing the sensation back from his menacing grip. Despite the tender touch, his voice was cold. “Because I can’t go another day without you.”
I belatedly noticed the unholy glint of lust lighting up his eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he wanted. Almost as if he were unable to help it, his face dropped lower, one unyielding hand wrapping around my waist.
“What are you?—”
His lips came swooping down, cutting me off. Panicked, I opened my mouth to protest. His tongue dipped inside, suffusing me with unwanted heat.
He pulled back and pressed his forehead against mine. His breath was hot on my lips as he whispered, “If you won’t tell me the reason, then tell me that you want me.”
Reality rushed back, and my eyes snapped open. Anger flashed in his eyes, thinking I was antagonizing him with my silence.
“Say it,” he demanded darkly, and I could see the cracks in his fragile control.
I eyed the exit that he was no longer blocking. If only I could make it to the hallway.
His eyes closed as he kissed down my jaw, his grip loosening with his groan. The distraction was the only reason I managed to pry his hand from my waist and untangle myself. Without giving him the chance to recover, I dashed for the exit.
Three steps. Five. Almost there. My heart hammered when I heard his footsteps closing the gap. The sound of my own breathing filled my ears as my fingers grazed the doorknob.
I made it as far as opening the door when he yanked me back and slammed the door shut with such force the wood frame splintered.
Without bothering to spin me around, he folded my body, with him behind me.
My palms hit the wood to brace myself. My legs trembled as he gathered my hair in his fist, yanked my head sideways, and sank his teeth into my neck.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “You’ve been avoiding me for days,” His voice was rough with accusation. “Do you have any idea what that does to me? It makes me fucking crazy.”
My shoulder bag slid to the floor with a soft thump, followed by the rough tug of fabric.
“No—don’t!” I screamed as my slacks were wrenched down.
The sharp clink of his belt buckle loosening sent ice through my veins. His weight settled over my back, and I thrashed beneath him.
“Please stop,” I sobbed, nails breaking as I scrabbled for purchase against the wooden door.
I gasped for air when Professor Maxwell wrapped a hand around my neck and thrust inside. No preparation, foreplay, or cajoling. My teeth gritted at the pain, fingers digging into the arms caging me in.
Terror churned in my stomach as my body seized against the violation. My legs kicked wildly while my body fought to accommodate him. Every inch of him felt enormous in this position, and the friction burned as he retreated only to slide back inside.
A tremor ran through him as he pressed his face into my hair, burying himself to the hilt. “Fuck, I needed this,” he whispered, his voice raw.
He wasted no time exploiting my vulnerable position. His fingers found their way between my thighs, teasing me, allowing my body to acclimate to him. Despite my self-loathing, my thighs parted in silent invitation when his hot tongue drew distracting patterns along my neck.
“That’s it,” he murmured against my ear. “Nothing feels like you do, baby. I can feel how your body responds to me. You can’t keep lying to me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to escape his words as he began to move.
He established an unforgiving rhythm. I could only hope no one would walk in.
Our bodies collided with a cadence that would mask any approaching footsteps in the hallway.
He gripped my hips, pulling me back to meet his thrusts, making me take all of him while I made sounds that I barely recognized as my own.
His fingers strummed my clit, chasing his release and mine, growling like a wild animal claiming its mate.
I screamed, coming apart at the seams. We heard footsteps in the hallway, and he slapped a hand over my mouth.
Despite his relentless pace, he cradled me through the tremors.
And when he climaxed, he bit my shoulder to contain a similar shout.
My head lolled to the side, resting on his shoulder. I had never done drugs and assumed this was what it must feel like to be high. I was on the brink of passing out when the pleasure gave way to the shame of what had happened yet again.