“Shit. That was close,” I mumble into her neck. Her fingers are dug deep into my chest as she hangs on to me for dear life. A low chuckle erupts from my chest at how damn cute she is trying to hide herself in my arms.
“Oh my god, why are you laughing? If someone saw us,” she panics. Realizing how tightly she’s gripping on to me, she wiggles out of my hold.
Forcing myself, I release her. “Well, for starters,” I begin, running my hands through my hair, preparing for the brutal pain of blue balls, “Hulk about to smash you through this bookshelf.” I stand back, needing to cup my poor balls while she adjusts her dress.
Picking up the book she dropped, she says, “Mason, we can’t do this.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because! It’s wrong. That was—”
“Hot?” I finish her sentence.
She sighs loudly. “I was going to say irresponsible.”
“You mean hot.”
“No. We can’t be doing that here.”
“But we can do that somewhere else?”
“No!”
“You’re confusing me.” I fight the laughter that’s building.
“You’re confusing me!” She sighs again. “Mason, I can’t…we can’t. This is my job. You’re a student. It’s wrong.”
Fuck it is.
But she’s right. Unlike me. This is her job. She belongs here. I’m just a decoy and a lie.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says.
“Like what?” I inquire.
“Like you’re disappointed. This, what we’re doing…it won’t end well. Teacher/student flings…they never do.”
She can’t be any more correct on that statement, because she has no idea how bad ours will truly end. “You’re absolutely right,” I say.
She nods in return, but I don’t miss the flash of disappointment. A few more seconds of silence pass before the sound of shuffling books and students passing up and down the next row over remind us where we are.
“Well, I should probably get goin’.” I hold out my hand for the book she’s gripping to her chest.
“Oh, yeah…here.” She hands me the book, her cheeks still flushed.
This is where I should turn around and walk away but my legs won’t move. “So, is it too unprofessional for a student to walk a professor out to her car? It’s probably dark by now and I’d like to make sure you get to your car safely.”
She’s so damn beautiful when she smiles. A small part of me expects her to turn me down. But when her lips curl into that sexy, sweet grin, I know I won. “A simple, kind gesture from a student? I see nothing wrong with that.”
I can’t help but match her smile as we begin to walk toward the exit. We pass the group of assholes, but this time, they don’t say a peep. Not a single one of them dares to even blink our way. My eyes suddenly catch a shadow in the corner, and I recognize Sloth. What the fuck is he doing here? Casually, he nods, dipping his head as he sucks on a toothpick. I mimic the gesture, confused, but keep walking.
“Excuse me, sir! You can’t just take that book! It’s stealing!” I snap around to the help desk lady, the receiver in her hand. “I’m calling security!”
“For fucking what?” I bark. Fuck her and her prejudice assumption, the kid from the wrong side of the tracks needs to steal a fucking book. I take a menacing step toward her, wiping the color clear from her haggard face. Megan wraps her small hand almost halfway around my large bicep to pull me back. “Mason, you have to check the book out is all.” She turns to the lady. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Willard. That’s my fault.”
To hell it is. She doesn’t have to take the blame for me because this hag lady thinks I’m a fucking thug thief or some shit. The woman’s attempt to humiliate me sets me off more. I continue, but Megan digs her nails into my skin, stopping me. “Listen, it’s no problem, I’ll just check it out for you. Just make sure to get it back in on time, okay?”
“Miss Benedict, you cannot do that,” she spits, disapproving of her attempt to help me.
“I believe I can. Now, we would like to check out this book. I’d truly hate to discuss my experience here today at a family dinner. I’d hate to admit what a displeasure it was to see one of St. Augustine’s veteran staff behave with such animosity toward a fellow student.”
Her face blanches, losing any color she has left. With hesitancy, she takes the book and scans the barcode, mumbling about late fees. Megan grabs the book, and with her sweet-as-pie smile, wishes her a good day.
“Thanks. You didn’t need to do that,” I say, embarrassed I didn’t even know how to check out a goddamn library book.
“I know. But you can thank me by reading it and giving me a report on what you learned.” God, I want to grab her face, without a care of who sees, and kiss her until her knees buckle, allowing me to carry her back to my place and fuck her—
“Well, well. Look who we have here.”
My mood shifts the instant I hear her voice and the blood in my veins turns to ice. My muscles tighten as I face the devil herself.
“Aunt Lillian, what a surprise!” Megan exclaims and steps forward as they embrace in a warm hug. She then steps back, smiling wide. “How’ve you been? Sorry I haven’t been able to make time on campus for lunch. Will we see you at Dad’s for dinner on Sunday?”
Someone as sweet as Megan wouldn’t notice the simple twitch at the mention of her brother. But I do. There’s definitely no love lost for her sibling. She puts that fake smile on and her eyes gleam with fondness, but I know her. The devil wears many hats and the one she wears for her niece is deceit. She hates her brother just as much as she does his daughter. And that sure as fuck sparks my curiosity.
“We’ll see, hon. Chastity has a competition which might hold us up.” Which is a lie. At one of God’s recent parties, Rhett mentioned he had plans with her. Dear old Lillian is avoiding her family duties. Interesting.
“Oh, well that’s too bad. Dad misses you.”
There it is again. The simple twitch. No amount of Botox can hide the strain in her eyes.
“Same, sweetheart.” In need of a subject change, she veers her hateful stare on me. “And Mr. Blackwell, good to see you again. How is your new class coming along? Accomplishing everything you need to be?” The hidden meaning in that question is clear.
“You know Mr. Blackwell?” Megan jumps in, turning to me with proud eyes. I wish she didn’t look at me like that. The moment Lillian notices, her smug grin becomes even more evil.
“Of course. He’s one of the many I counsel. Such a promising student, this one.” My stomach coils at her words. Even more so at the way her glare feasts on me. Megan doesn’t see it. She’s blind to the evil that surrounds her.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Megan says. “By the way, beautiful scarf.”
Her eyes flicker to me before she replies. “Yes…well, perfect time of year for them.” Bullshit. I know it’s because she’s hiding the bruises I left on her. She’s going to be hiding more too with these games she keeps playing. “I must get going. Meeting with a student to go over his future. Mason, I look forward to hearing about your progress. Do stop by my office in the morning and we can discuss it further.” She doesn’t stick around for me to reply. She leans in, kisses her niece on the cheek, her eyes creasing in the process, and she’s gone.
Megan holds up a conversation as we continue our trek to her car, but my mind is elsewhere. Murder, new identity, the fucking Elite. How the hell do I juggle all this and stay sane? How do I continue this charade with this perfect girl knowing I’m embedding myself in her life only to ruin her?
“So, this is mine,” she says, and I snap out of it. We’re standing next to a simple Toyota Corolla. “Thanks again. And I hope you enjoy the book. It’s a great one to start with.” She’s smiling at me, but I find it too hard to return the gesture. Do I tell her now? Come clean that she needs to get out of here? Stay the fuck away from Lillian? How do I warn her that nothing, but destruction is headed her way? I stare down at her, contemplating, when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
“So…well, I have to get home. I have papers to grade,” she says, suddenly looking uncomfortable.
“Yeah, cool. Well I’ll see you in class, Miss Benedict.” My voice is low as I say her last name. Her cheeks flush, and I know I struck a chord with her. As much as she fights to convince herself what we have going on is wrong, she wants it just as much as I do. She digs into her purse for her keys when I grab her phone from her hand and begin to punch in my number.
“Mason, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m storing my number.”
“Mason,” she warns. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Not worried about what you think. Worried about if you ever need it, you’ll make sure to use it.”
“I’m a big girl, you know,” she says.
“Yeah, I know. With even bigger desires. Use it if you need it.” With her mouth parted slightly, I leave her and head out. I grab for my phone to check my message, and my heart drops.