I just about made it back to my car and collapsed into it before the word screamed at me once more.
Wife.
A fucking wife.
The taps from Jordan’s fingers drumming against the surface of his desk filled his office. He didn’t care for the freshman in front of him desperately explaining why he’d forgotten about his assignment. His rules were clear. They had one twenty-four-hour extension in the event of an emergency. Further extensions could and would be granted if serious emergencies, such as severe illness or a family fatality.
Going home for the weekend and leaving one’s laptop at the dorm was not reasonable grounds for an extension, because quite frankly, it wasn’t a fucking emergency. Even if the kid’s cat had died.
“Mr. Lawrence, I’m very sorry for the loss of your feline friend, but you’ve had a week to complete this assignment, not a weekend. Why was it not completed before you left?”
Damien Lawrence shifted from foot to foot then readjusted his bag strap on his shoulder. “Well, sir. You see…”
Jordan raised his eyebrows and removed his glasses. “I’m waiting.”
“I forgot,” he murmured. “I had several other things due and…forgot.”
“Twenty percent of my students drop out of this course by the end of their first semester,” Jordan reminded him. “Some by choice. Others because their grades weren’t up to scratch. My seniors have three days to hand in assignments if they’re lucky. You have a week. This is the first time, so you have until nine p.m. tonight to get that essay uploaded to the server.”
“Thanks, sir.” Damien scuttled toward the door with the finesse of an elephant on an ice rink.
“And, Mr. Lawrence?” The boy stopped at Jordan’s sharp tone. “Do it again and your mark will automatically go down as zero, which will bring your overall grade down quite considerably.”
He nodded frantically and ran out of the office. The door swung shut, and Jordan relaxed instantly.
Contrary to popular belief, he hated being such a hard-ass to his students. Well, perhaps he didn’t hate it entirely, but he sure as hell didn’t enjoy it. He did it because it got results, and results were what he liked. He’d been pushed to his limits during his education, and he was sure he wouldn’t have been the respected historian he’d become without that constant push.
There was a time and a place for winging. Education in his classroom was not it. Even he didn’t wing a single bit of his professional life.
His personal life? That was something different. He rode that by the seat of his pants, and he was wondering if, this time, he even had a grip on them. When he’d stumbled across Darcy on the Dalton Cam Girls website, he hadn’t been expecting this.
It’d shocked him more than anything. She was his best student—the best he’d had in a long time. And he’d thought many times that it was a damn shame she was majoring in English and not history. She had an impeccable memory, and she could remember the tiniest details. Even if she did have a tendency to forget every president’s name.
The Darcy he’d known before the date of September twelfth had been quiet, studious, determined. She’d been every inch the scholar, but with her looks and what he’d seen of her personality, he had known she would be a force to be reckoned with in whatever field she decided to enter.
But that day… If he thought hard enough, he could remember every detail, even right down to the underwear she was wearing. He could remember seeing her picture, pausing, clicking to investigate. He remembered becoming enraptured with her confidence in front of the camera and the way she’d explored her body so expertly.#p#分页标题#e#
The next day, he’d watched her as some two-bit punk had drilled into her from behind. He’d watched as she’d gotten fed up of obviously faking the orgasm and reached between her legs to bring herself to pleasure.
If he had known then that it’d become more than a guilty little pleasure, he might have stopped. Might have.
She’d very quickly become an obsession for him. A craving, almost, but an obsession, definitely. He knew that now. He didn’t just find himself attracted to her—he found himself slightly addicted. And they’d barely had any interactions at all. All he knew was that he wanted more of her.
If only he hadn’t been lying when he’d warned her that, if he fucked her right then, then he’d hurt her. He wouldn’t have done it intentionally. He never had, but fuck. Fuck, his self-imposed restraints went against everything in the contract he’d laid out for her.