Dear Professor(10)

“Your attitude is quite something, Miss Hamilton.”

I hit him with a level glare. “It should come with a warning sign, I know.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, and the dimple in his cheek formed with a shadowy dip. “Indeed. I’m assuming you want to know why I won’t give you your letter.”

“Actually, I don’t care, which is why I was trying to leave.”

His eyes told me that he knew I was lying, but I was determined to keep up the charade.

“Miss Hamilton,” he said slowly, playing with his shirt at his wrist. He dropped his eyes. “Trust me when I say I have a very good reason for not wanting to give you your letter.”#p#分页标题#e#

Don’t roll your eyes, I thought. Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten to you.

“With all due respect, sir, if you’re not going to tell me, I have somewhere to be for the next couple of hours.” In my room—studying, for once.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, so once again, I turned toward the door, making sure to grab my bag. I was halfway across the room for the second time when he cleared his throat. My steps faltered.

“Somewhere to be, Miss Hamilton? Where would that be, exactly?” His voice easily carried across the room.

“My room, studying,” I confirmed before resuming my walk.

“Your room at Dalton House?”

The words carried a sting of venom, and each one snaked across my skin sharply.

When I turned, it was as though it were in slow motion. My heart was thumping inside my chest, beating a fast two-step against my ribs. The thundering rush of my blood as it spread around my body was also deafening, and bile rose in my chest, burning the back of my throat. I forced myself to swallow it down and ignore the panic I could feel taking over as I met Professor Keaton’s eyes.

“I have no idea what that is.”

“You don’t look so sure, Darcy.”

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m sorry.” I made myself continue walking to the door, but I didn’t realize he was behind me until it was too late.

His hand came up and clasped the back of my neck. It was the only part of him that touched me, and I was too preoccupied by the immediate heat of his palm closing over my skin to realize what was happening.

“I want you to touch yourself,” he whispered, fluttering my hair with his exhalation.

Oh no. Oh, fucking hell no. This can’t be happening. It has to be a fluke—a joke. Someone is screwing with me. This can’t be real.

“Again,” I forced out scratchily. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I took a step forward, but his grip on my neck tightened. I stilled.

“Darcy…” His voice was still quiet, but this time, his tone was deadly. Like he could take me down with one sentence, and I had no doubt that’s exactly what he was about to do. “Did you enjoy yourself last night? Did you enjoy thinking of that vibrator as a real cock as your fucked yourself with it?”

My knees felt weak. My stomach rolled, and it took everything I had to keep myself standing as his hot breath hit my bare shoulder.

“Jok_46897. You know exactly what I’m talking about, Darcy. Don’t you?”

My professor has been watching me fuck myself on camera.

Oh. Sweet. Fucking. God.

My cheeks flamed. This was mortifying. More than anything, it was also destroying. The implications of this ran through my mind quicker than I could take hold of one and make sense of it. I didn’t understand what was going on although I knew exactly what was happening. It was completely insane. It just couldn’t be real.

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” I said quietly. My voice shook, and I hated myself for the show of weakness.

“Because,” he murmured, “I have something you need. You have something I want.”

“Are you… Are you blackmailing me?” I reached up and knocked his arm away from me. Then I stepped to the side.

His eyes blazed at me with amusement, but I could see the shadow of annoyance as it lingered beneath the surface.

“Proposing an agreement,” he corrected me. “One that benefits us both because we both get what we want.”#p#分页标题#e#

“All right. I’ll bite.” I didn’t want to, but I was cornered. “I know what I want. What could I possibly have that you want?”

One of his eyebrows curved upward. “You don’t really need me to answer that, do you?”

No, I didn’t. I wished I did, but I didn’t. “You want me.” I wasn’t asking. I didn’t need to. I was simply stating something that was increasingly obvious.