“No such thing.” His palms slide up my bare thighs, stroking tenderly. “Keep drinking.”
I force down the fluid with a glare. The black hair on top of his head is a finger-raked rebellion of sexiness, while the trimmed sides scream clean-cut Mr. Professor. With his freshly shaved jawline, potently masculine scent, and swank gray waistcoat and jacket, he’s ready to take on the world. Or at least, a school full of privileged teenagers.
My dirty ponytail hangs down the front of the only thing I’m wearing—his Guns N’ Roses t-shirt. I won’t be ready to go anytime soon. My stomach sinks. For the first time in four years, I’m going to miss a day of school.
“I know it hurts.” He takes the glass, sets it on the floor, and brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “My dad’s bringing medicine.”
My body clenches against a sharp wave of pain, releasing another stream of pee. I groan, my eyes watering through the godawful burn.
“Fuck this.” He reaches for the knot on his tie. “I’m staying here.”
“What for?” I grab his hand, stopping his attack on the shirt collar. “What would you do? Sit in here and watch me pee all day?”
His eyes flash. “Yes.”
“Terrible idea.” I tangle our fingers together and hold them between my knees. “How will it look if we’re both gone? Neither of us ever miss school. People will notice.”
He drags his free hand down his face, his expression pained. The secrecy of our relationship, seeing me sick, leaving me alone, all of it torments him.
I lean in and kiss his mouth, wishing my teeth were clean. “This is embarrassing enough without your hawk eyes all up in my business.”
It’s really not that bad. I’m well-adjusted to his invasiveness. Whether I’m on my period or using the bathroom, he has no concept of personal boundaries, always hovering, interrogating, and examining me inside and out. I get it, though. Because I’m just as obsessed with him.
Straightening my back, I use one of his favorite commands. “Go.”
I expect his jaw to harden and his voice to crack the walls in his outrage. But what I find in his eyes is something wholly different. Something that’s been expanding between us for months, doubling in size when we’re together, and growing in strength when we’re apart. As if finally bold enough, everything we’ve ever felt for one another gathers into one monumental sentiment and shines from his gaze.
He wraps his hands around my hips. “I love you.”
There it is. Spoken without fireworks, received without weepy tears, and absorbed without the ricochet of distant thunder.
It’s simple, real, and right there in the open.
In a bathroom.
I grip his face, eyes connected, hearts beating in sync. “You waited until now to tell me that?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “It’s not like you didn’t already know.”
“Yeah, but a girl doesn’t forget the first time her crush says those words.” I fight a grin. “I’ll always remember this moment with the image of a toilet seat imprinting a ring on my ass.”
He rests his forehead against mine. “Did you say crush?”
“Not just any crush.” I touch our lips together. “A crush on my hot teacher, who also happens to be my cocky Master. And the man I love.”
Doesn’t matter if I’m sitting on a toilet, splayed on his piano, or straddling his lap. This is our secret world, and it’s more meaningful than every aspiration I’ve ever set for myself. Our relationship isn’t practical or convenient. And it’s not just physical. We need each other, not because our bodies fit so well together, but because our hearts beat the same tune, for the same reason.
“Say it,” he breathes.
“I love you.” I’m not the first woman who’s said those words to him, but I’ll make damn sure I’m the last. I comb my fingers through his hair. “The kind of love that doesn’t end in betrayal.”
His hands clench against my hips. “It won’t end at all. Ever.”
He kisses me passionately, achingly, his mouth molding against mine as if trying to convey the depth of his words. He kisses me until my bladder howls again.
Lingering longer than he should, he tucks me into bed and piles the nightstand with food and water. Then he leaves the room and returns a few minutes later with Schubert bundled in his arms.
I curl on my side, grinning despite the discomfort. “You thought of everything.”
“Not everything.” Settling Schubert beside me, he pets the kitty into a lazy purr of contentment. “I haven’t figured out a way to stay home with you.”
“You’re late, Mr. Marceaux. Get out of here.”
He presses a longing kiss to my lips. “Dad has his own code to get in, so stay up here. Get some sleep. He’ll be by soon.”
I close my eyes and stroke Schubert, trying to ignore the irritating urge to pee again. I sense Emeric hovering in the doorway for a silent moment before his footsteps fade down the hall.