She stepped away from me with an inscrutable expression. “You can tell me anything you want, Mason, but your actions speak louder than words. You say you want me, but what about all the times you gave me the cold shoulder? I can’t handle that. I won’t keep putting myself in a situation that I know is going to end badly for me, even though I’m aware that connection is there, too. You’re too unsure of what you want.”
I placed my hand back into my pocket and let out a sigh before looking around the park. A few people were walking around, and I didn’t want to continue having this conversation out in the open.
Grabbing Emma’s hand, I led her up the stairs of the terrace and pulled her down to sit next to me on one of the steps.
“I know it wasn’t fair of me to treat you the way I have been. There are things about me—” I cleared my throat and debated on what to tell her. I definitely couldn’t tell her the truth. The only person I’d tell any of it to would be Victor, and that was only because I had to in order for action to be taken. “My life is complicated. It’s always been complicated. Some days, I don’t deal well with it; you saw that first-hand.”
I glanced at her to gauge her expression. She stared down at the fountain, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. I knew she wanted to say something, so I just waited patiently and looked her over. The skirt she’d worn had ridden up her legs when we’d sat on the step, putting them on full display. Visions of those beautiful legs wrapped around me entered my mind, and I wanted them there again.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eyes and looked up to see Emma staring at me.
“Are you a cutter?” she blurted then sighed. “I mean, you know, I saw the scars and…”
“No,” I said sternly. I knew I should pull back the anger I felt brewing inside. The shame I’d felt with Luke a week before was rearing its head. That sensation was why I’d kept things to myself for so long. It made me feel weak. It wasn’t an emotion I dealt with lightly.
“But the scars—” she started.
“Are none of your business,” I finished for her sternly.
I knew I’d just fucked up by the shocked expression on her face, and I let out a sigh of defeat. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. This could never work. This was why I had rules. It was easier that way. Feelings just fucked everything up.
She stood abruptly, and I watched her as she smoothed out her skirt.
“Well, it was good seeing you,” she said quickly before walking down the steps.
I jumped up and followed behind her.
“Emma, don’t go.”
She ignored me and it pissed me off. I wasn’t going to let her leave without listening to me first.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her with me, ignoring her protests along the way.
Walking under the Bethesda arches, I pushed her against one of the columns, away from prying eyes, and brought my lips down to hers.
There was only one way I knew how to communicate, and this was it.
She opened up for me, and I lifted my hands to hold her face. It was a hard and rough kiss—biting, sucking, and nibbling—from all the pent-up sexual tension.
When I finally pulled away from her, we were both panting for air. I let go of her face, running a hand through my hair. If we weren’t out in public, I would have taken advantage of the situation. When she was in my hands, she turned to putty. Her feelings were like an open book for me. I knew she wanted this just as much as I did, but she was being cautious. Which I didn’t blame her for.
“Listen,” I stated, shoving my hands back into my pockets. “There are things about me that I’m not willing to talk about. My life isn’t roses and fairytales. It’s a big, fucked-up mess. I told you, I live my life a certain way. The question is can you handle it? I’m your professor, but I honestly don’t give a fuck. I know you’re worried about your career, but that’s a risk you have to figure out if you’re willing to take. In a few months, it won’t matter anymore.”
She stood there, pressed against the column, looking over my face. I didn’t know what her response was going to be. I expected her to walk away, tell me to fuck off, because who would agree to want to be with me?
I was too fucked-up. I had too many secrets and demons that hid in the dark recesses of my mind. It was everything that made me who I was. And yet, there I was, trying to change it. Did I think it would be that easy? No. But I also knew I didn’t want to let her go. She was my redemption, the light at the end of the tunnel, and I craved it. I wanted that itch inside to go away, the feelings of loneliness to subside.
Pushing away from the column, she took the few steps to reach me and placed her hands on my chest.
“I can respect your privacy, but don’t play games with me.” She turned away from my gaze and stared at my chest. “This whole thing between us,” she said, gesturing with one of her hands. “It scares me. So many things could happen. I can’t lose my scholarship.” She looked up to meet my eyes once again, and I could see the vulnerability written all over her face. “We could just be friends?”
I lifted my arms and rested my hands on her shoulders before leaning down to give her a soft kiss on her forehead.