Connor had given me things like jewelry and clothing. At times I’d felt like a showpiece for his family’s prosperity rather than his fiancée. I’d never expressed that to Connor because I hadn’t wanted to offend him. His intentions had been good; we’d just had different priorities.
After work on Tuesday night, I stripped out of my tights and dress. The tensor bandage Hayden insisted I wear to cover my chest found a home on my dresser. T-shirt, shorts that actually covered my behind, and Hayden’s hoodie were the outfit of choice. Then I set about tidying up so he didn’t feel compelled to do it for me. The coffee table was still disorganized, but the rest of the place looked decent. I settled into the corner of the couch and picked up my thesis so I could work on it while I waited for him to arrive.
When he came over an hour later, he stood in the doorway, gawking for a good fifteen seconds before he composed himself.
“I wondered if I’d left that here,” he said as if he hadn’t been staring at me, mouth agape. He locked the door and followed me inside, heading straight to the fridge.
I flopped down on the couch and tucked my knees up under me, determined not to push him, even though I was dying to have his hands on me again. My back felt the best it had since he finished the outline. It was still itchy, but that was the extent of the discomfort. Initially the stinging burn had been so intense that the meds had barely touched the ache. I might not have voiced the level of my pain to Hayden, but he was perceptive. That first day I was looking for anything to take the hurt away, physical and otherwise. He gave me what I needed, but the cost-benefit was questionable. Since then he was careful to avoid contact that might lead to clothing removal.
Beers in hand, Hayden sauntered over to the couch. He dropped down beside me and rearranged the books on the coffee table until they were perfectly aligned. Once the table met his organizational standards, he passed me a beer. He took a swig of his own, his eyes on my bare legs. His hand ran up my calf and over my knee until he reached the hem of the hoodie. He lifted the fabric to peek underneath.
“You have your meeting with Professor Douchebag tomorrow?” he asked.
He always referred to my advisor by some disparaging name. “Douchebag” was one of his nicer terms. I nodded, unable to gauge his mood. He was quieter than usual, his eyes hard.
“What time?”
I’d already told him. Twice. “Six. It was the only time he could fit me in.” I’d said that before, too.
He nodded and withdrew his hand from my leg, much to my disappointment. Remote in hand, he flipped aimlessly through channels while I sipped my beer. I wasn’t sure if I’d done something wrong, and I didn’t want to ask. After a few minutes of channel surfing, the screen went blank.
“Did you really think this outfit was better than the one you wore yesterday?” he asked. He was using his calm voice. I was in trouble.
I looked down at myself, more covered than I had been in the past five days, aside from when we’d gone to the museum. “Isn’t it?”
“No. This outfit is the opposite of better.”
“Do you want me to change?” I asked.
“Absolutely not.”
His palms slid under the backs of my knees, prompting me to unfold my legs. When I was more malleable, he carefully maneuvered me so I straddled his lap. This was definitely not a PG kind of position. Hayden’s hands traveled up the outsides of my legs and under the hem of his hoodie to palm my backside. He pulled me in close. I didn’t move.
“I’m driving you in tomorrow,” he said, shifting against me.
“Why? I’m fine. My back feels okay.” I could feel his erection. I spread my legs farther and held on to him, hoping he wasn’t going to stop.
“Because.” He unzipped his hoodie, eyes on my shirt. I should have picked a better one. The logo was embarrassingly childish. He glared at me. “Little Miss Naughty, is it? You’ve been pushing all week. You’re about to find out what happens when I reach my limit. Trust me when I tell you, you’ll need me to drive you in.”
*
Hayden hadn’t lied about me needing a ride to school. I might have managed five hours of sleep, much of it broken by Hayden’s roaming hands, among other insistent body parts. Every orgasm was drawn out, granted only after my extensive pleading. The lead-up was always worth the end result with Hayden. He might have pretended to be angry, but his actions didn’t reflect that emotion.
I didn’t dissuade Hayden when he brought his car around the next morning. Or when he insisted on picking me up from my meeting with Professor Calder. While the previous one hadn’t been horrible, I was still concerned about the late hour. The doors locked at six, and most of the staff would have vacated the building by then. There were rumors circulating about Professor Calder, and while I generally didn’t buy into gossip, his coldness unsettled me.
By 6:00 p.m., exhaustion set in. The caffeine high was the only thing that kept me going as I made the trek to Professor Calder’s office. After all the time spent on my thesis this week, I hoped the changes would put me in better standing.