His confidence was startling—but not unfounded. With that single expression of the word no, he’d bashed out every idea I’d had of getting out of this situation alive.
I perched on the desk on his side, making sure my dress rode up my thigh as I sat down. His eyes flickered down to my lap, but they returned to mine soon enough. They blazed at me still, but I centered myself as I remembered that, at this point, I had a crazy kind of control over everything.
“What if I say yes?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. I reached back and swept my hair behind my ear. “Then what? Do you have terms, sir?”
He leaned forward, still not touching me. His smirk grew though. It grew evilly. “Yes. No more shows unless they’re for me—public or private. I’ll supplement your lost income.”
“You’re fucking kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m joking, Miss Hamilton?”
“Miss Hamilton? Darcy? You’re giving me multiple fucking personality disorder, Professor. Who am I?”
“You’re making me very annoyed, Darcy.”
“Oh, now, I’m Darcy again?” I arched an eyebrow.
He grasped my wrist and tugged me toward him. I fell forward, but he somehow managed to control my body as it launched at him. I found myself sitting on his lap, straddling him, with my toes brushing the floor. He wound his arms around my body, holding me in place. It took all of three seconds for me to feel his erection pushing against my inner thigh.
And fuck. He had one hell of a cock—the kind that made me want to skate my body right up against his and rub myself against his evidently long length.
“No more private shows. No more public shows. You want your letter, you belong to me, sweet thing. Like I said—I’ll supplement your income. You’ll do every show for me, however I ask.”
“What if I have a show with another guy? You know I can earn over five hundred dollars in an hour when that happens, right?” I pushed away from him until I was standing. “What makes you think you can supplement my income?”
He slid his chair back and opened a drawer. He pulled a few stapled sheets of paper out and slammed them down on his desk. “This.”
My heart stopped. Legit stopped. Like a fucking car at a red light.
“Is that…”
“Your letter of recommendation? Yes.”
I took a deep breath. It was there. Right there. Right in fucking front of me.
“It’s yours. If you agree.”
This was so fucked. So fucking fucked.
“Can I read it?” I asked.
He set two fingers on the paper and pushed it across his desk.
I sucked my lower lip into my mouth as I picked it up and dropped my gaze to it. I read the first few sentences, and my stomach dropped—but only so it could make way for the butterflies of hope and determination.
I knew why he was doing it. He was showing me exactly what was at stake. This letter—this fucking glowing letter of recommendation. Possibly one of the best any of my professors had written.#p#分页标题#e#
I knew without a doubt that, if I looked hard enough, I’d be able to draw a key to Harvard Law in the spaces of the words.
“Is this true?” I asked, my voice cracking on the final word.
“Yes.”
I set the papers back down on his desk and took a step back. “If I’m that worthy of a student, why would you do this? Why would you force me into this?”
“Because I want you.”
“You say it like it’s so simple.”
He stood. The movement was so simple, but I didn’t register it until he touched his hand to the side of my face.
“It is, isn’t it? You agree. I get you. You get your letter. It’s real simple to me.”
“But I belong to you, essentially,” I told him. My heart pounded in my chest as the reality of what was happening really hit home.
I’d figured I could charm my way outta it all. I’d figured I could be a real sweetheart and get him to give in.
I’d figured so fucking wrong.
God. This was it. This was the end for me. I was going to give in because it was the only choice I had.
“How much?” I whispered. “How much do you want me? How many times?”
His hand snaked across my cheek. His fingers teased my hair, and my lips couldn’t help but part at the thrill of his touch.
“Every night,” he breathed. “Every night, you belong to me.”
I took a deep breath. I would have been fucking crazy to agree. I’d told myself that a million times, but maybe, if I finally screamed it inwardly, I’d agree and believe it. I couldn’t believe what he was proposing… Not really.