And what was worse than anything that had happened since my father knocked on that door was the realization of how right he was. As his parting shot was still hanging in the air about my lack of professionalism, I would still probably be able to smell Adele on my fingers had I lifted them to my nose. I took the stairs two at a time, rage billowing up in my chest. Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? I’d never sought out to be this pathetic cliché, fucking my young, beautiful student because I’d felt terrible about myself for so long.
When I turned at the top of the stairs toward the bathroom door, I steadied myself. It wasn’t Adele’s fault my dad was a prick. Despite her poor judgement in showing up at my house, she didn’t deserve to be the victim of my misdirected anger.
I pushed open the bathroom door, schooling my face, only to find it empty.
Okay. Stay calm. She probably just went into the guest room across the hall because it was more comfortable. Except, that room was empty too. My heart thundered in my chest. Because I highly doubted that Adele was tucked into the linen closet. And my bedroom door was cracked open, like someone hadn’t dared to close it.
For a moment before I pushed the door open, I paused, reminding myself that violence toward women was not allowed. I’d just calmly ask her to leave.
“Adele, you shouldn’t be—” my voice sliced off, the words jamming in my throat.
Skin. I saw so much skin, covered by tiny scraps of black lace. My eyes took everything in at once, like I was reading an entire page of text with one glance. She’d kept her underwear on, but that was it. Maybe she’d wanted me to decimate it like I’d done the first night we were together.
Her legs were crossed, one foot swinging lazily against the backdrop of my blue-striped comforter. One hand rested on her knee, and the other was stroking the skin on the upper curve of her right breast. Her nipples were tight little buds, and as pissed off as I was, I wanted to tug at them with my teeth. Make her wonder if I was close to drawing blood.
I would, too. If I laid a hand on her right now, I’d hurt her.
So I curled them both into tight fists at my sides. But it was her face that made me snap. She was so sure, so fucking sure that I would cave to her. Those green eyes of hers glowed with a sickening level of triumph, not even the tiniest smile curved her lips.
“Get out.” I didn’t point toward the door, didn’t move my eyes from hers. Then she did smile, eyes dropping down to the front of my pants. I wasn’t fully hard, my rage at seeing her sitting in a place that no woman had been in since the last night Diana was alive morphing into something that overrode even the basest reaction to a naked woman. I wanted to hurt her, wanted to wound her in a way that she’d never want to look at me again, let alone touch me.
“Nathan,” she practically purred, moving to stand. “Let me help—”
“There is something wrong with you,” I said evenly, and she froze, face losing a little color. “You come to my house in the middle of the day, take off your clothes in my private room when my father is downstairs, my father who’s on the board of the school you attend and you think that I’d be remotely tempted?”
“Don’t act like you didn’t have your fingers inside me less than fifteen minutes ago,” she threw back at me, straightening after she’d picked up her bra off the floor.
“Another mistake, I’ll give you that. Men just think with their dicks around you, don’t they?” Adele snapped her mouth shut, using shaking hands to slip her bra on and yank her jeans off the floor. I took a step closer to her, black waves of anger filling my vision as she covered herself. “A stupid little girl who uses her body to get what she wants, not giving a damn about what the consequences might be.”
She went perfectly still, the only movement on her was her chest heaving silently, eyes focused down at where she’d been pulling her shirt over her stomach. When she lifted her head, I almost apologized, the pain that was stamped on her face was so raw that it pulled my breath from my lungs.
“Get out of my house,” is what I said instead.
And this time, she listened.
Chapter Thirteen
The following two weeks could be summed up in the most pathetic diary entry ever:
Dear diary,
Two weeks ago, Nathan kicked me out of his house after calling me stupid. What makes it even worse was that he was right.
The next day, my neighbor’s internet connection—and therefore my own internet connection—was cut off for non-pay, forcing me out of my apartment and into the rapidly chilling temps of autumn in Boston as I fought for counter space at any café with Wi-Fi I could find.