Professor

“Oh, honey. Don’t say that. He divorced me, not you.”

I shook my head. “The way he went about all of this was underhanded in the worst kind of way.” My mother didn’t say anything, and instead I held her as we both sat there in silence, the atmosphere heavy and thick.

He’d done this to her and me, and all I wanted to do was shout and scream at him, to tell him how much I hated him, how seeing the pain he caused in my mom made me loathe him.

But I didn’t need that in my life. Neither of us did. All we could do now was move on.

All we could do now was live this new life.

And all I could think about on the heels of that thought was how I wanted that new life to be with Lucian.

23

Professor Goode

The more time I spent with Grace, the more I realized that my concentration on anything that didn’t concern her was pretty much impossible. I ran a hand over my jaw, a day’s worth of scruff scraping over my palm. I tried to focus on the papers that had been turned in from my students, yet my obsession with Grace made everything else dim in comparison.

I just wanted to be with her, to spend every waking moment with her. It was this ache inside of me that grew daily, beckoning this swarm that wouldn’t be tamed.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. Although I’d seen her in class, we hadn’t had a free moment to be together. And it was slowly eating at me. I realized I needed her in my life in every conceivable way. I needed to touch her, kiss her, just hold her every day.

I stood, not able to sit any longer, and walked over to the window. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest as I stared out at the university grounds. I could see the parking lot, the student lounge beside that. There was a large grassy area where, during the warmer months, students sat out and studied.

Although I didn’t care if people knew about my relationship with Grace, I knew she worried. It was on my mind; how they’d react, if they’d see her in a different light. It was the latter that worried me the most, because I knew people could be heartless bastards. I knew they might spread rumors, say shit about her, think badly of her. That’s what I was concerned about if people found out.

My job, my reputation … just things in this world that didn’t mean shit compared to the big picture.

And that big picture was Grace.

There was a knock on my door, and I turned and looked over my shoulder, not moving from the spot. “Come in,” I said, my voice booming in the small interior of the office. I assumed it was Ashley, my TA, but a pleasurable surprise filled me when I saw that it was Grace.

She stepped inside and shut the door behind her, and I was already striding toward her, had her in my arms, my hand cupping the back of her head, and just held her. I buried my face in her hair, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.

The scent of lemons filled my nose. “I was just thinking about you,” I said gruffly against her ear and dragged my lips across her cheek, along her jaw, and pressed my mouth to hers.

She kissed me slowly, softly, but I instantly knew something was wrong. I pulled back and looked down at her, the expression on her face telling me she was guarded, that she was trying to act like nothing bothered her. But she couldn’t hide it from me.

I’d watched her for too long, knew her facial expressions, what she liked and didn’t like, knew when something was wrong. And being with her, finally claiming her, had only intensified all of that.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Instantly my thoughts went to some little fucker hurting her. I couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the possessive, protective side that rose up in me where she was concerned.

She didn’t say anything at first, just exhaled and shook her head. I led her over to the couch and sat down, keeping her hand in mine, in fact, wanting her on my lap so I could hold her, so I could comfort her.

“My mother came by last night,” she said softly. “Apparently my father is having another baby with his wife.” She exhaled again as if she were frustrated.

When Grace leaned back on the couch and tipped her head, resting it on the cushion and staring at the ceiling, I glanced at the slender column of her throat, at the way her pulse beat steadily beneath her ear.

“The crazy part of all of this is not that I’m upset he’s having another one, especially at his age. But that he hurt my mother.” She looked at me then, and although I could see she was upset, but she was so damn strong.