XII
Payne
B iting her lower lip, Tori moves the bottle, resting her hand on the desk in front of her. “I’m sorry,” she says, softly.
“Sorry?” I scoff. This morning, I’d received a faculty email about the death of a student on campus. My relief at the student not being Tori was short-lived when all my calls to her were instantly sent to voicemail.
Then I’d been sent a link to a porn site with her begging to be gang-banged by three guys. Even if the voice was dubbed over the top, there was no denying that the person enjoying every moment in that video was her.
I’d been hit with an uncontrollable rage, joining the same feeling that I’d been suffering from since watching her come in front of me in my classroom only a week before.
From the moment she walked into my classroom that day, I knew something was up, but I never guessed all the squirming was because of what had to be a toy controlled by them .
With no lessons because of the exams anyway, it had taken me far too long to locate her, and when I did, she was dragging Synclair, Royal, and Gemini around by a fucking leash.
Whatever dickish comment I’m about to make dies in my throat as she lowers her head, and the harsh light of the room catches the bruises that cover her face. What little resolve I’ve been clinging onto to stop myself from rushing over to her fades away in a flash.
My long legs make little work of the room as I march over, stopping abruptly in front of her.
Tori looks up, her eyes going wide. The mottled purple skin makes her blue eyes look almost unreal.
I reach down, avoiding the cuts on her chin, as I gently inch her head back a little further, my gaze drawn to the red mark around her neck. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I utter.
“Just Tori.” Tori pulls her head back out of my reach.
“This isn’t something you can joke about. Which one of them did this to you?” I snap.
“It wasn’t…” Tori’s lips press together as she closes her eyes. “Declan Salaway.”
I take half a step back. “The kid they found dead? What the hell happened?”
Tori takes another large swig from the bottle, coughing slightly as she lowers it to offer it to me. I take the bourbon from her, and she slides out of the chair, moving towards the window.
“Someone released a video of me—a sex tape. While everyone was distracted by that, Declan tried to kill me. I think he would have succeeded if Syn, Royal, and Gemini hadn’t found me in time.” Staring out the window with her back to me, she takes a deep breath, but her body shudders as she releases it.
All I can hear is a roar in my ears, like I’m standing in a wind tunnel. My body seems to move on its own as I put the bottle down on the desk and then take the two steps I need to be right behind her.
Her eyes catch mine in our reflections as I wrap my arms around her, bringing her tight to my body.
She tenses, and something seems to filter through my mind that this isn’t appropriate, but it’s drowned out by the roaring wind.
And then she sinks back against me, her hands reaching up to cling to my arms wrapped tightly around her.
I lean forward, lowering my head to press my cheek against her unbruised one.
“Leave,” I tell her.
“I will.”
I straighten, releasing her as I grab her shoulders and gently turn her to face me. “That’s not a suggestion.”
“I finally got Syn to believe me when I told him my brother didn’t kill his. With Declan’s attack, we think we’re getting closer to figuring out the truth about what happened that night, and then, hopefully, we’ll know what happened to Lucy.”
Her eyes are round, and I can see the hope in them, but somehow, that makes something in me snap.
“I couldn’t care less about Lucy right now. You’re the one still alive. Barely at that,” I add, my eyes darting between all the visible injuries I can see at the moment.
And the idea of what I can’t see causes me physical pain in my chest.
“I thought you wanted to know what happened to her?”
“Not at the expense of something happening to you.” I raise my hand and gently brush my fingers over her cheek. “Something more happening to you.”
Her lips pout like she’s about to ask me a question.
There are two things my father gave me: an early receding hairline, which had me shaving my head from the age of nineteen, and anger issues. His anger issues resulted in him killing my mom before he turned the gun on himself. I’d promised my Grammy that I’d keep my anger under control, and until now, I’d never found myself close to getting angry enough that I’d want to kill someone.
But what makes me react isn’t anger.
It’s impulse.
I have a type, and Tori wasn’t it. She wasn’t close to it.
And then, suddenly, she was.
She is.
As my hand snakes around her waist, pulling her close, I dip my head and capture her lips.
Tori gasps, trying to take a step back, but I hold her in place. Her resistance is only momentary, and then she’s clutching at my arms, kissing me back. It’s her who teases me with her tongue, and I welcome it greedily.
She tastes of whiskey, bad choices, and zero regrets.
I slide my hands down and cup her ass. As I squeeze at her firm flesh, she moans into my mouth, and I scoop her up, turning so that I can deposit her onto the desk.
Tori raises her legs, wrapping them around me.
My cock is already getting hard, but the moment she rubs up against me, the only thought going around my mind is that there are too many layers between us.
Like she’s thinking the same thing, Tori claws at my jacket, quickly shoving it over my shoulders. She pulls away, breaking our kiss, but only so she can get at the buttons on my shirt.
Instead of helping her, I reach for the bottom of her sweater, grabbing that and the top beneath, tugging them both up and over her head.
Before her hair is free of the sweater, she winces.
I step back.
The bruises aren’t limited to her face. Her arms and shoulders are spotted with black, blue, and yellowing marks.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “We shouldn’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“It’s worse than it looks,” she tells me. “But I can put my sweater back on.”
Anger bubbles up in me, and I feel like a volcano that’s about to erupt. “This isn’t about your looks, Tori. There isn’t a single bruise or blemish that could hide any of your beauty. But don’t you dare tell me it’s worse than it looks when you’re flinching when I touch you.”
Tori leans forward, grabbing my wrist. Gently, she pulls me to her.
I know I should step out of her reach, but instead, I allow her to pull me back to her.
Without breaking her gaze, she slides my hand down over hers, directing it to her hip and down onto mottled skin. “The sweater caught my cheek, and it surprised me,” she says, softly running her hand back up my arm, over my sleeve, and to my bare chest.
Her hand feels like it’s leaving a trail of fire over me, and while I don’t have enough willpower to move away, I don’t pick up where we were, like she wants. “We still shouldn’t do this.”
“Because I’m a student?” She tilts her head. “I’m leaving in two days, and this place won’t have me back, even if I wanted to come back.”
“It’s not about you being my student.” Somehow, that feels like it should be simpler. “Look at you, Tori. I say this without any judgement other than my own, because Lord knows, I’ve had a part in pushing you into this, but those bruises and marks over your body barely scratch the surface of everything you’ve been through these past couple of months. The more time I spend with you, the more incredible I find you, and the more I’m falling for you.”
Tori’s hand continues to glide over my bare chest as she looks up at me through her eyelashes. “What if I feel the same way?”
“Then what would it hurt to wait until we’re out of here?” I counter.
Her hands still, then she drops them to her lap. “Because, when I leave here, I want to have one memory to hold onto where I know that there were no hidden agendas, no games being played, and no deception. One memory where I was with somebody who wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with them. Unless, you only said what you said to make me feel better.”
Maybe if I had become a professor through the more traditional route, I might have received more guidance about what to do in this kind of situation.
I’m not na?ve enough to think professors getting involved with their students only happens on TV. Apparently, I was dumb enough to think it wouldn’t happen to me.
Despite the background of the majority of the students at this college, in the few years I’ve been here, I don’t think there’s been a single day where ten or so years’ age difference between me and them hasn’t felt like a wider chasm. Maybe it’s because of what she’s been through, but I don’t feel that with Tori.
“I didn’t lie, Tori, but it’s more complicated than that.”
“Then you’re the one making it complicated.” Tori sighs. She shifts her weight, reaching for her sweater.
As she fists the fabric, I grab her hand. “I don’t want us to start tarnished by this place. If it’s just two more days, we can wait that long. Leave here, and either you forget about everything that’s happened here, or you don’t, but close the door on this place completely, and let us start something new, together, somewhere else.”
Tori looks up at me. Her eyes look like they’re starting to water, but she gives me a small smile. “That sounds… That sounds kind of perfect.”