Chapter 4

That fucking dress haunted me all week.

Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured Jenica’s sweet ass in that tight fabric as she revealed herself in front of the class.

There was nothing childlike about her, despite what she kept accusing me of.

I ran a hand over my face and blew out a breath.

The female was driving me insane. It had taken physical restraint to ignore her the last few weeks, to act as though she hadn’t raised her hand to respond to every question I’d asked. But I didn’t want to show favoritism for her. It was a conflict of interest—something I’d warned her about after the first class.

I should have followed through on my threat to go to the administration.

But I hadn’t.

Mostly because I hadn’t wanted to.

A huge fucking mistake. Especially after the last class. I was almost terrified to see her this week, worried that she might show up in another of those short, tight dresses.

Fortunately, she stepped through the door in a pair of jeans and a sweater instead.

Unfortunately, Carver was right behind her, handing her some sort of drink. “You owe me,” he told her, his tone teasing. “Carrying an iced mocha across campus in this chilly weather wasn’t fun.”

She laughed. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You will,” he agreed, settling beside her in the second row, as usual.

It was on the tip of my tongue to separate them, but I didn’t have a valid excuse as to why I would separate them. Other than to play the protective-big-brother card.

Does this little dick even know what I am to her?

I suspected he didn’t, or he wouldn’t be openly eye-fucking her in every class.

Why didn’t she tell him about me?I wondered, my brow threatening to furrow. Is she protecting me? Protecting herself? Does she not really see me as a big brother to her?

That last thought stung a bit.

Of course, I deserved it after basically ignoring her all semester. I’d even gone as far as to not message her on her birthday—something I did religiously every year.

But she was my student now, and it felt awkward crossing that personal line.

Which would make it weird now for me to tell Carver to go sit in the hall instead of next to her.

Grinding my teeth, I pushed the thoughts away and focused on the lecture ahead instead.

Somehow, I managed to deliver it without once looking at Jenica. It helped that she was properly covered. Yet I felt a niggling of guilt when she silently left after class.

I’d placed feedback notes from last week’s assignment on my table for everyone to pick up.

She hadn’t even bothered to collect hers.

Probably because she assumed I didn’t have anything for her.

I sighed. This was not working.

After class, I sent an email to her school account and attached the feedback. It was all favorable because she’d slayed her presentation. Which naturally made it that much harder to grade her. I felt like I had to be harder on her because of our history, yet I couldn’t find a lot to critique.

She responded around midnight with a mere “Thanks.”

I glared at the message.

That’s it? That’s all you have to say?

It’d taken me all of last week to figure out how to grade her, and she replied with a single word? Un-fucking-believable.

I grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the liquor cabinet in my kitchen and poured myself a healthy glass of it.

Then I downed the contents in a few gulps and poured another one before taking in the foggy night view from my floor-to-ceiling windows.

Beyond it was a view of the mountains overlooking Portland. Which I would have enjoyed seeing if it weren’t for the perpetual clouds that seemed to hug the skies over this part of the country.

A very different experience from my New York City home. I’d purchased a condo in Manhattan last year, wanting to be closer to the Wakefield Pharmaceutical headquarters. It was a two-bedroom, which would seem modest here, yet fit for a king there.

It was a bit of an overindulgence on my part, but I’d worked hard, and the company paid me well.

Part of my deal with Mason U had been to negotiate housing since I didn’t intend to stay here long, and I really didn’t want to pay rent on top of a mortgage.

I’d expected some cheap apartment near campus.

Instead, they’d put me in temporary faculty housing, which was a rather posh two-bedroom space near the top floor of a residential building a few blocks away from the university.

Jax’s reaction to it had been priceless, the asshole poking fun at my success. He’d meant well. It’d been just a natural ribbing that I’d returned when he’d told me about his promotion at work.

We’d certainly come a long way in the last decade.

I missed hanging out with him on the regular, something living here these last few weeks had proved. I’d made numerous friends in New York City, but none of them were Jax.

And none of the women are Jenica, either, I thought, tossing the drink into the back of my throat again. It burned, but I swallowed it, my mood souring at the thought of her one-word reply.

Yeah, that’s not going to work for me.

I’d spent too much time on her critique for her to just ignore me.

I returned to my computer—which I’d left on my dining room table—and shot her another note. Come see me after class on Monday.

Then I drummed my fingers, waiting for her reply.

She didn’t send one.

I checked again the next day.

Nothing.

And the day after that.

Also nothing.

She didn’t reply all damn week.

Jax distracted me from it over the weekend, demanding that I head out to a new club with him. But I wasn’t feeling the company, my skin itching the whole damn time. Mostly because women kept touching me and I wanted my space. So I left early, giving him the opportunity to entertain on his own.

If he’d found it weird, he hadn’t said anything.

By Monday, she still hadn’t acknowledged my request—which had quickly morphed into a demand. I shot her another message before class.

Miss Roberts,

I’ll be waiting for you in my office at eight.

Best,

Pierce

I knew the email would arrive on her phone. Yet she still didn’t reply.

Then she showed up to class with Carver again, and I nearly lost my shit. Because he had his arm around her like he owned her.

She laughed at whatever he said, the sound genuine.

What do you even see in this guy?I wanted to ask her.

But a better question followed: Why do I care?

Because it was my job to protect her.

A duty assigned to me as Jax’s best friend.

Surely he wouldn’t approve of this joker fondling his little sister in class.

I glowered at them.

However, they were too lost in each other to notice.

A good thing, I supposed, because my reaction was entirely inappropriate. But this is why I didn’t want her in my class—it was a goddamn conflict of interest.

I wanted to throttle her for not listening to me.

More, I wanted to throttle myself for my lack of control.

Fuck.

With a mental growl, I cleared my head and focused on the lecture. It was a bit gruffer this time, my anger making it difficult to enunciate words in the easy manner from before. Mostly because I wanted to take Jenica over my knee and beat some sense into her.

Which was precisely why I needed her to stay the fuck away from me.

Every time I saw her, my urge to tame came out to play. And she wasn’t mine to tame. She wasn’t mine to fuck, either. She wasn’t mine, period.

This attraction was a serious problem.

It skewed my judgment and made me want to do things I shouldn’t.

Swallowing, I forced my way through tonight’s class and reminded everyone that midterm exams were next week. Since my assignment for them was a social media marketing campaign for a product of their choosing, we wouldn’t be meeting in person. Rather, they would submit everything online, and I would review their work.

A few stopped by with questions, allowing Jenica to escape.

I almost called after her to remind her of our appointment, but I didn’t.

Instead, I focused on the students in front of me, then packed up and headed to my office.

I was a few minutes early and half expected Jenica to already be there waiting for me.

She wasn’t.

And at ten after eight, I started to question whether or not she planned to come.

I knew Jenica—ignoring a professor wasn’t something she would do. So if she didn’t show up, it was because something had happened to her or she didn’t respect my position.

The former concerned me.

The latter provoked the Dominant inside me, making me want to find her and teach her a lesson.

She reminded me of a bratty sub, constantly pushing boundaries and trying to find a way to misbehave for the purpose of desiring punishment.

That wasn’t true at all; it was just my mind wandering and conceptualizing a relationship that did not—would not—exist between us.

Yet it was so easy to picture her kneeling at my feet with her head bowed and that luscious body on display.

I should have stayed at the bar Saturday night, I thought, craving a drink and something a little darker. A little sexier.

Of course, none of those girls had really been my type.

Because I found myself only desiring one female right now.

In a tight black dress wearing fuck-me heels.

That outfit was designed for a sex dungeon.

Except for the fact that it covered her from shoulder to thigh.

But it was the kind of outfit that hid something sexy beneath—a present for a Dominant to reveal in front of the masses before worshipping the female with his fingers and tongue.

I glanced at the minifridge of my temporary office, irritated that I’d only stocked it with water.

This woman was driving me to drink.

And she was now over twenty minutes late.

Which meant she’d blown me off entirely.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her number, livid with her show of disrespect.

It went to voicemail.

“Jenica, this isn’t cute,” I said as soon as the beep sounded. “I told you to see me after class. I told you to—”

A knock sounded, interrupting my message.

“That had better be you at my door, or I’m going to hunt you down and scold you in a way you will never forget,” I threatened, hanging up the phone.

I opened the door to find her standing on the other side with slightly pinkened cheeks, her hair mussed.

My gaze narrowed. She looks freshly fucked.

It was a look I liked and despised at the same time because I wasn’t the one who had put her in that state.

But I absolutely wanted to replicate that look.

Beneath me.

In bed.

“Sorry,” she said, breathless. “I got all the way to my apartment before I saw your email.”

I arched a brow. “Even the one from last week where I asked you to meet me after class?”

She scrunched her nose. “No, that one I deleted without reading.”

Well, at least she was honest. “Do you treat all your professors that way?” I couldn’t help the note of censure in my tone.

“No,” she admitted, glancing downward in an uncharacteristic display of shame. Or maybe it was a natural submission to my tone.

I cleared my throat and stepped to the side, allowing her to enter.

She took in the small space—it was a temporary office for a reason—and the slender window behind the large oak desk. I had an empty bookshelf and two visitor chairs as well.

And a tiny fridge full of water bottles.

“I see you’ve settled in nicely,” she deadpanned, noting the plain off-white walls and lack of items on my desk. I’d set my bag there and nothing else. There wasn’t even a lamp.

“I don’t intend to stay long,” I reminded her.

“Right. New York City.” She sat in one of the chairs, her gaze on the window rather than on me. “Jax says you have a nice place there.”

I muttered a version of an agreement as I took a seat behind my desk.

Now that she was here, I couldn’t really remember what I’d planned to say.

Her messy hair and flushed cheeks appeared to be from sprinting back to my office. Fortunately, she was wearing jeans and a sweater rather than those fuck-me heels again. I strongly doubted she could have run in those.

“Did you need something?” she asked after a beat of silence. “There wasn’t anything in your feedback I had questions about, and I’m prepared for my midterm assignment.”

“Another sex ad?” I asked, unable to stop myself from quirking up an eyebrow.

She shook her head. “No. My marketing plan is for children’s coloring books.” Her eyes glittered as she finally met my gaze. “I figured you would find that more appropriate.”

Jenica used to draw a lot as a kid. She’d also loved coloring. So I actually did find that suitable for her, but I suspected that wasn’t what she meant at all.

“Do you still color?” I wondered aloud, trying to break some of the tension.

“No. But I have taken a few art courses as electives.” She resumed staring out the window over my head. “I haven’t colored since middle school.” The latter part came out in a low mumble of sound that appeared to be more for her than for me.

“What art courses have you taken?” I asked, genuinely interested.

She shrugged. “Mostly painting. A few in graphic design, as it goes hand in hand with marketing graphics.” She looked at me again, her expression holding a note of exhaustion. “You didn’t ask me here for small talk, Pierce. What do you want?”

“Maybe I wanted small talk.”

Her eyes rolled. “Then ask Emily to come to office hours instead.” She started to stand as though we were done, her audacity slapping me across the face.

“Sit. Down.” The command left my mouth in a way similar to the word kneel, but I ignored that and focused on her submissive form.

Because the moment I spoke, she sat.

And her head immediately bowed.

Then she frowned, some part of her registering that she’d just submitted without meaning to, and snapped her gaze back up to mine, a hint of fury lurking in the pretty blue depths. “What the fuck do you want, Pierce?”

“For starters? Some goddamn respect would be nice.” I was really tired of this attitude. I hadn’t done anything to deserve it other than to ask her nicely to drop my course. Then I’d spent the better part of the last seven weeks acting as though she meant nothing to me to avoid any awkwardness.

And now I had her acting out like a fucking brat in my office.

Because I called her, I thought angrily. Why did I do that, again?

“How have I disrespected you?” she asked, her voice a touch softer now. “I’ve shown up every week prepared to answer questions and participate, only for you to treat me like I was invisible. Then I gave a presentation that you could barely find any faults in—because, let’s be honest, we both know your nitpicky comments were a stretch at best—and now you’ve demanded I show up to your office hours without once telling me why. If anyone has been disrespectful, it’s you. Because you refuse to take me seriously.”

I stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words.

Because she was right.

I had disrespected her immensely by ignoring her.

I hadn’t taken her seriously as a student, too focused on the distraction she created by being in my class rather than considering the reason for her enrollment—to learn.

And I had absolutely graded her more harshly than the others in an effort to overcompensate for any perceived favoritism.

This was such a fucking mess.

All because I couldn’t seem to think straight in her presence.

Why did she have to grow up to become such an alluring goddess?

This would be so much easier if she were still twelve.

But she wasn’t.

She was twenty-two—a fact she continued to remind me of.

A grown woman.

A beautiful woman.

My shoulders fell as I released a long breath. “I’ve struggled to reconcile you being in my class,” I admitted, giving her a half-truth.

What I really meant was—I’m struggling to reconcile the fact that you grew up to be a knockout, one I really want to touch but can’t, and I’m being an asshole in response to that desire.

I would never admit that to her, though.

“It’s a distraction,” I continued. “I don’t want to show you any favoritism.”

“Well, be assured, you’ve done the absolute opposite of that,” she muttered, her attention going to the damn window again. “I haven’t told anyone in the course that I know you, and I’m sure none of them have even questioned it. I’ve prepared for every class as needed, and I’ve conducted myself professionally—”

I snorted. “That black dress and those fuck-me heels were not professional.”

She slowly shifted her eyes to me, blue flames lighting up her irises. “That outfit was worn for a purpose that everyone in the class understood.”

“Oh, they understood all right. Especially Carver.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“I heard him ask you out. Was that your goal? Using my class assignment to seduce him?” It wasn’t a fair question and I knew it, but thinking about that exchange infuriated me all over again.

I’m reacting like a fucking teenager,I chastised myself. This wasn’t me at all. I commanded every situation, my natural inclination to lead coming through in everything that I did.

Yet this female flipped me upside down and danced all over my instincts. It made me feel dizzy and out of sorts. Which only increased my need to tame her, to right the world around us by asserting my control over her, over us.

“Yes,” she hissed. “My goal was to dress up in a sexy number to seduce Carver Matthews.” She rolled her eyes again, standing. “I’m not going to sit here and take your insults, Pierce. We both know that dress was a prop.”

She planted her hands on the desk, leaning down to stare right into my eyes.

“Are you one of those men who say a woman asked for it just because of the way she dressed?” she asked, her voice serious. “Because if you are, then I’m disappointed in you. I thought you knew better.”

Her words were another slap across the face, so much so that I couldn’t even think of a reply.

So instead, I asked, “Are you dating him?”

Her eyebrows flew upward. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She stepped back as though I were the one who had delivered the slap this time. “That’s none of your business, Pierce.”

“Your brother would disagree.” This was coming out all wrong.

I hadn’t asked her here for this.

Or maybe I had.

Maybe I’d wanted a reason to fight.

No, that wasn’t right at all.

I wanted to tame her. Punish her. Make her mine. All things I couldn’t do. I shouldn’t have invited her here at all. I should have just let it go. Continued to ignore her.

But when she’d turned the tables and ignored me, I hadn’t been able to take it.

I’d needed to break the silence.

Fuck. This was a dangerous tightrope to walk, and I was failing miserably at it.

She took a step back, shaking her head. “You and Jax have no say in my sex life.”

“Sex life?” I repeated, seeing red. “You’re having sex with Carver Matthews?”

Her cheeks darkened to the same color as my vision. “That’s none of your business,” she repeated, stepping backward toward the door. “Next time you call me into your office, try to keep it course related, Professor.”

I stood, ready to stop her, but she was already leaving, the door swinging harshly in her wake with a slam to punctuate her words.

Shit.

My fists fell to my desk, a curse leaving my lips.

Well done, Pierce,I snapped at myself. Well. Fucking. Done.