The Price of Mason (Forbidden Men 10)

Except Reese needed to stay untouched by the likes of Patricia Garrison.

So, I sighed again, in the most lackluster way I could manage. “Whatever,” I mumbled.

Monica snickered. “You know what you have to say.”

Fuck you, was what I wanted to growl. But after rolling my jaw and swallowing my pride, I glanced away and unsteadily rasped, “What’s your fantasy today, professor?”

“Ooh.” She shivered in delight. “I like the way you call me professor.” Opening the top drawer of her desk, she reached inside and pulled out a wad of cloth before flinging it across the desk.

I caught it in one hand, then held it up, letting it fall open until a pair of silver thong underwear hung from my index finger.

“I took them off about five minutes before you showed up in my doorway,” Monica announced, pushing back her chair and crossing her legs to draw attention to the hem of her skirt. “I had a feeling you’d find your way to me.”

Because I was a moron, I decided.

I’d played this all wrong—right into her hands—and given myself away. Now I was fucked. What the hell had I been thinking?

When she stood and set her hands on the desktop, posing at a side angle to best show off her curves, I think she assumed I’d be tantalized by the whole panty-less, older woman, student-teacher thing, but meh. That just wasn’t me.

I had a bad feeling some of the disinterest in me somehow always managed to show through though, because it only made my clients more determined to try to make me want it.

She bent over, sliding her palms flat across the surface of her desk and flashing me her deep cleavage even as she poked her ass out behind her.

“I don’t want compassion this time,” she said, anticipation and excitement glimmering in her gaze. “Let’s get a little rowdier and play naughty professor instead.” She winked at me, already in position for how she wanted me to take her. “How about I be Dr. Janison, the lonely middle-aged English professor in need of a little physical contact?”

Dammit, I groaned internally, even as I met her gaze and slowly stood from my chair. Time to get my head in the game. “Then I’ll be some random college student, just desperate to not fail your class.” Rounding the table, I reached for her hip even as I swallowed down the revulsion rising in my throat. “Whatever could I do to earn a little extra credit, professor?”

Confession #14: Sometimes, I really didn’t like myself.

I missed my afternoon class. But to ensure Reese’s safety, it was worth it.

Monica seemed pleased, anyway.

“Wow,” she panted from the top of her desk where she’d collapsed after coming…for a second time. Sweat matted her hair to her face, and a satisfied laugh tumbled from her lips as she rolled onto her back to gaze up at me, watching me zip my jeans back into place. “I mean…just… Wow. Excellent performance, Mr. Lowe. You were so good, in fact, I’ll make sure your little girlfriend gets an A after all.”

I glanced at her as I fastened the top button of my fly. We hadn’t once discussed Reese’s grade. Why the fuck was she bringing up Reese’s grade?

Shaking my head, I frowned suspiciously. “Why don’t you just give her whatever grade she actually deserves?”

“Hmm?” After lifting her eyebrows, she shrugged and glanced at her fingernails only to frown when she found a small chip that she’d probably gotten from grabbing onto the edge of her desk as hard as she had. “Well, okay then. But I figured you wanted to receive something extra in return for all your hard work.”

“I am,” I said slowly, my eyes narrowing as I stepped closer. “I’m ensuring your silence with Patricia.”

She cringed. “Yes, but the thing is…I already told Patty everything.”

I paused, then very slowly said, “Say what now?”

After tossing out another careless shrug, she added, “Before you even came into my office.”

I took a breath to clear my head because this shit was not funny. I stared at her intently, waiting for her to laugh and tell me she was joking. Because she better be fucking joking.

But she offered no such relief, and my heart skipped a beat.

Oh shit. Mother fucking son of a bitch. She wasn’t joking.

The urge to curse fluidly and grab my hair with two fists as I kicked her desk and maybe even knocked papers off it, scattering them everywhere, filled me until I actually wanted to physically hurt her. Yet despite how much I might scream and rage and blame her for tricking me, sadly, I was mostly just pissed at myself for falling for it.

Because, fuck… Why hadn’t I known better? I’d walked right into that like a damn dumbass. And now… Now Reese had been made.