Dear Professor(86)

Then I grabbed his shirt, moved onto my toes, and kissed him. He was still with shock for a split second before he grasped my waist and pulled me against his body.

And I felt…nothing.

No warmth. No desire. No lust.

It was just like I was fucking for work.

Liam deepened the kiss, but all I could feel was screaming inside my head. Each one blared, Wrong, wrong, wrong! Nothing about this felt right—not the way his fingers dug into my sides or his tongue teased mine or his erection pushed against my thigh.

He isn’t Jordan.

The strength of that thought startled me, and I gasped. I pulled back from Liam and touched my fingers to my lips.

“Is everything okay?” Liam asked.

No. No, it wasn’t. Nothing was okay. It shouldn’t have mattered that it wasn’t Jordan. I was used to not feeling, no sensations. It should have been easy for me to go through the motions of having sex with this stranger.

But I couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t Jordan, and I didn’t want a stranger. I wanted Jordan.

Lord help me… I only wanted my history professor. Despite everything. Touching anyone else just felt so wrong.

“Darcy?” Jordan asked behind me.

“No,” I whispered, stepping back and looking between the two men. “I won’t do this. I just… I can’t.”#p#分页标题#e#

Jordan’s eyes narrowed, but Liam looked unaffected. The man would probably have someone else to screw within the hour. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be me.

I pressed my hand to my mouth and darted past Liam, into the downstairs bathroom. There, I slammed the door and pressed my back against it. Emotion bubbled inside me, churning my stomach and tightening my throat.

My eyes burned as tears threatened. Everything came crashing down on me at once with the force of a waterfall freefalling in the moment it tips over the edge. Griffin’s anniversary, my situation, my split-second recognition of my desire for the one man I couldn’t realistically have… It was an overwhelming wave.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I slid down the door. My back ached with the movement, but it wasn’t quite as painful as the ache I felt inside. It was a mishmash of longing and desire and frustration and helplessness.

God. I needed to leave. I needed to just…go. Somewhere. Anywhere but there, where he was on the other side of this door.

I blinked my emotion back and stood. Yes. Leaving. That was the best thing I could do. I would deal with everything else in a few days when I was feeling so…so…raw.

I pulled the door open and stopped. Jordan was standing right in front of me, and although I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel his eyes searching my face.

“Excuse me,” I whispered, stepping to the side.

He stepped with me. “Darcy,” he said in a low voice, much softer than before. “He left.”

“Just like I’m trying to do.” I stepped back the other way.

Again, he stepped with me. He reached a hand out to my face and cupped my cheek. I closed my eyes. His palm was rough, just like his fingertips were as they ghosted across my skin and teased my hairline.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk.” My voice cracked halfway through. “I want to go home, Jordan. Please let me go.”

“No.” He cupped my other cheek so his hands were framing my face and tilted it back. His eyes found mine easily, and he took a deep breath. “Talk to me, Darcy. Something’s wrong.”

“What gave it away?”

“Your locking yourself in my bathroom, for a start.”

I sniffed. “I didn’t lock it. Just stood against it.”

His expression was stoic, but his eyes gave him away. In them, I saw the one thing I’d never seen before.

Concern.

“We need to talk,” he said quietly.

Yes. We do.

I pushed him off me and walked around him, into the front room. Yes—talk. That was what we needed to do. I needed to get everything off my chest, leave, then get my life back to the way it had been three weeks ago.

“I know.” I turned back to him and put my hands on my hips. “I know about everything.”

“You’re gonna have to clue me in here, sweet thing.”

“The other girls. The ones before me. I met with Christina Wilson yesterday, and she told me everything.”

He stilled, shock flashing in his eyes. “How did she know who you were?”

“Because she’s, like, obsessed with you. And the girl you slept with last year? Hannah or Anna or whatever her name was? She knows her too.” I lifted my chin. “She told me that, if I report you, she’d back me up.”

“And are you going to? Report me?”