Dance for Me(24)
Her brows arch into her hairline. “Is he a secret agent? FBI? CIA? ”
“If only he were so cool,” I chuckle as I begin walking away.
“For what it’s worth,” she says, sticking her head out the door. “I hope it works out for you two. Just remember what I said—talk to him. Tell him how you feel. If it’s meant to be, it will be.”
“You sound like a Disney movie.”
“I am a princess.” She smiles and waves before ducking back into her apartment.
As I walk to my car, her words repeat in my head. She has a point. I need to tell Ransom what’s going on in my head. If knowing that I am developing deeper feelings for him scares him away, then I’m better off without him.
I really hope he chooses to stick around, though. There’s still so much about Ransom Scott that I aim to explore.
***
Ransom doesn’t ask why I was absent yesterday, and as predicted, he doesn’t bring up the club or the hotel. The mask he wears is impossible to read. With his dark hair combed back from his forehead and dressed in another pair of khakis and sweater-vest, he’s just an unassuming professor—a real nice guy. If I hadn’t been there to experience it for myself, I would never guess that little more than thirty-two hours ago we’d had some of the wildest, kinkiest sex I’ve ever had.
The way he tied me to the bed frame and tore my body asunder makes me shiver just thinking about it. I have a difficult time putting the two images of this man together. He’s a prime example of how different people can be in the light of day.
Today, the weather is so nice, Ransom has us working outside. We’re gathered on the lawn outside the Art building and he’s discussing art history, which is as interesting as it is boring. I think he feels the same way. Twenty minutes ago, he got animated over the Impressionist Movement, and now he’s discussing Modernism. He sounds like he’s just repeating the words by rote. It’s funny what you can pick up about a person just by observing.
“What I want you to take away from today is that art is everywhere and in countless forms. It’s different for everyone,” he says as he begins to wrap up his lecture. “When you and I look out over this campus, we see different things. For instance, I see baroque influenced by Roman and Greek design. Maybe you see a series of lines and angles or Victorian landscapes. Think about this as you put together your final exam. How do you plan to use your environment to influence others’ visions?”
My mind scrambles. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I am ready to skedaddle. I have a ton of homework ahead of me, and I still have no clue what I’m going to do for my final assignment for this class. He dismisses us and I hurry to finish my notes, and then tuck my books into the crook of my elbow. As I turn to leave, I hear Ransom’s throaty timber call me back.
Waiting for the rest of the students to clear out, I take my time approaching him. “I hope this isn’t becoming a habit,” I say in false warning to help ease the tension I feel inside. “People might start talking.”
The corner of Ransom’s mouth quirks up. “You weren’t in class yesterday.”
“I was taking care of a sick friend. Should I have brought a note?”
His smile grows deeper with my sarcasm. “Does this have anything to do with Miss Guerra’s absence?”
I nod.
His eyes hold mine for a moment longer than is comfortable. His voice is quiet and filled with concern when he says, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and that, uh…” He clears his throat, and the sudden nervous energy he gives off has me curious. “The kiss. I wanted to make sure it didn’t… scare you.”
I study him for a moment, the tightness around his eyes and the firm line of his lips. I remember that kiss fondly. How gentle he was, how sweet it felt. But it makes no sense to ask me this, considering all we did to one another after that. Unless he’s still worried about how this will affect our personal and professional lives.
I consider this. “No,” I whisper, my voice growing deeper as the memories of that kiss plays through my mind on repeat. “Are you?”
His gaze glued to my mouth, he shakes his head slowly. “At first. I have a lot to lose, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it for a second. Your mouth…”
He trails off, and when I glance down, I see the evidence of how much that memory affects him. His words are like the first move on a chess board, and it gives me the confidence to make the second move.
Maintaining a careful and respectful distance, I take a step closer, lowering my voice so no one else can hear. “If I thought I could get away with it, I’d drop to my knees right now and show you exactly what this mouth can do, Mr. Scott.”