His Prize Pupil

Ripley is worthy of the slumbering angel upstairs—now I just have to prove I am, too.

One thing at a time, though.

I text Ripley back with my name and address, letting her know what happened at the party and that I’ll have Alana call her first thing in the morning. Ripley has about fifty follow-up questions, but I sigh and replace the phone, hoping I’ve done enough to assuage her fears.

Next I bring her camera to my workroom in the back of the townhouse. It’s attached to my darkroom and I have several projects that need work, but my main concern right now is Alana’s camera. It’s an old Nikon. I had one like it once and I should have no problem repairing the lens if I can find the correct parts…

I must have been working on the repair longer than I realized, because the next time I look up, morning light is spreading across the floor of my workroom. There’s a creak on the staircase, followed by a tentative call of my name and my cock reacts violently, stretching the fly of my jeans with such force, I almost strip the tiny screw I’m turning.

“In here,” I call, my voice like gravel.

Alana appears in the doorway rubbing sleep from her eyes—and it becomes painfully fucking obvious that I’m in love with her. My heart is all but tangled around my jugular just being this close to her, having her in my house, knowing she slept in my sheets.

“I hope it’s all right that I used the packaged toothbrush under your sink—” She interrupts herself with a gasp. “You’re fixing my camera?”

I nod, still unsure I have the ability to speak.

“Thank you. I wasn’t sure how I was going to pay to have it fixed.” She clasps her hands beneath her chin and comes forward, watching me work with a growing half-smile on her face. “Goodness gracious. This is very sexy.”

My laugh sounds like metal churning. “Let me make you some coffee, then I’ll finish up.”

“I can make it.”

“Please, I want to.”

Awareness deepens the blue of her left eye. “Okay,” she breathes.

I make no attempt to hide my erection when I pass her on the way to the kitchen. And I chuckle over the way she follows me, like a cartoon character following the scent of pie. Then I remember I’ve vowed not to fuck her again until she trusts me wholeheartedly.

Christ.

It’s going to be a long morning.

“Did you take these photographs?” Alana asks behind me.

I turn to find her studying my collage of framed shots on the wall. “Yes, those are mine.”

“Oh, I love these.” She trails a finger over a picture of a shelf of books where one of the spines is turned in the wrong direction. “You look for anomalies.” Her hand falls away from the shot, her gaze finding mine over her shoulder. “That’s why you liked my eyes.”

Dropping a K-Cup into the slot, I depress the coffee maker’s arm and hit the button. “I love your eyes. Because they belong to you, Alana. Every part of you is beautiful.” Stunned silence follows my pronouncement. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black, please,” she breathes, turning back to the wall of framed shots. She studies them a little longer, then joins me in the kitchen, in between the counter and the island. She leans back against the island slowly, almost warily. Jesus, if one truthful comment about her eyes can throw her off this much, I have a lot of work to do in the romance department. “Did you happen to notice the picture I snapped before almost breaking my neck?”

“Yes,” I mutter, giving her a dark look along with her mug of coffee. “You’re not going to convince me it was worth nearly dying over, but…it’s very good. It’s framed perfectly, the moonlight almost gives it a…”

“Satirical drama?”

“Yes.” Her blushing smile almost causes me to drop my own coffee. I clear my throat hard, trying to dislodge the lump, but it’s not going anywhere. “I always wonder at the beginning of the semester if there’s going to be a prize pupil. Little did I know this time around that I’d already met her.”

“I’m…me? Prize pupil?” She purses her twitching lips. “Are you just saying that because we’re…because I’m…”

“The girl that has turned me into a full-fledged stalker?” Her mouth falls open on a gasping laugh and I sip my coffee to hide my own smile. “I’m not just saying it. I took a closer look through your application, Alana. You already have a very distinct style. Your personality is right there in every shot. Most students still won’t have found such recognizable style by graduation. You’re going to be exciting to watch.”

“Thank you.”

“I’d be honored to help you hone that skill.”

“I would really like that.” She hugs herself around the middle, face flushing with pleasure. “So, um…” She shifts to face me, propping a hip on the counter. “When did you decide you wanted to be a Daddy?”