The mechanisms in his watch tick beside my ear as he slides his fingers through my hair and holds my head in the frame of his hands. “I don’t think you’re ready to hear that.”
Maybe not, but I think he’s showing me. As I stare into the stormy blue of his gaze, the wall sconces, arched doorways, and dark woods in the hallway all melt into oblivion. He’s wearing his dead serious face, the one that says I want to fuck you and so much more.
That look in his eyes turns my insides upside down, pulling my breaths through a diaphanous haze of happiness and confusion. He doesn’t temper the hunger in his expression, but doesn’t act on it, either. It’s as if he’s letting it build naturally while keeping it contained. As if he’s enjoying the way it makes him feel without thrusting it against me.
I could stand here and stare at him all night, at his model-perfect features, the barely-there stubble on his sculpted jaw, and the heat dancing in his eyes. My fingertips tingle to run through his hair again. Softly, though, unlike the way he stabs his hands through the black strands when he’s angry.
He’s just…so…damn gorgeous. Way too hot to be a teacher. But it’s his self-control I’m attracted to the most. Funny that, since he showed zero restraint with Prescott. Or maybe he did? Prescott is still breathing.
When it comes to me, though, his control is evident in his tight expression and even tighter breaths. He wants, but he doesn’t take. That alone makes me feel more drawn to him.
I grip the gathered sleeves at his elbows and glide my fingers along his sinewy forearms. “Can I bandage your hands?”
“Later.” His face moves an inch closer.
“I don’t get you, Mr. Mar— Emeric. You went from spankings to five weeks of nothing to swinging fists to…” I hesitantly reach up and touch his warm, chiseled cheek. “To looking at me like this. Why?”
“Well, something happened recently.” He gives me a half-smile. “About ten minutes ago.” He turns his face toward my hand and presses his lips to my wrist. “I had an epiphany.”
In the car? My heart rate jumps. “What do you mean?”
“I realized I’ve been in denial since…” His gaze lowers to my mouth momentarily then returns to my eyes. “For a while.”
“Denial about what?”
He steps closer, strokes his hands through my hair, and holds my cheek against his chest. “Let’s not give it a name yet.”
Love pops into my mind, unbidden, quickly followed by hug. Instinctively, my arms wrap around his torso. My hands grip the back of his wool waistcoat, and muscle by muscle, I relax against him. His fingers trail down my spine, shooting shivers from my head to my toes. The circle of his arms tightens, and every molecule inside me becomes hyper-aware of every inch of his body.
His towering height and hard physique feels intimidating and protective, immovable and warm, strange and wonderfully right.
My dad used to hug me, and I miss that love with excruciating heartache. Stogie loves me in a non-huggy, protective-uncle way. But that’s the extent of my experience with the concept.
Exploring something like love with Emeric is terrifyingly reckless. He’s too volatile, unpredictable, and insanely intense. Would he give it one day and take it back the next? Would he taunt me with it, make me beg for it, and use it against me?
Even so, I’d rather receive it in rations than never have it at all.
Except he’s my teacher. He specifically told me I cannot fall in love with him. And he loves another woman.
What exactly am I to him? My stomach boils with jealousy and trepidation, but it doesn’t hurt as much with his arms holding me close and his mouth resting on the top of my head.
Whatever this is…this thing he’s been in denial about, it seems to be making his heart race. Or maybe it’s the hug causing those heavy beats against my ear. Maybe it’s all the same.
I tilt my head and look up at him. “Are you afraid?”
He releases me and steps back, his focus on his hand as he smooths down the black and white striped tie.
I grit my teeth. Dammit, I want him to own his feelings, not pull them back and brush them away. I open my mouth to say just that, but his eyes ensnare mine, and I forget to breathe.
That moment…my God, it feels like a lifetime in the making. His hands curl around my neck, wrenching me into a kiss so consuming it touches me everywhere. Seconds pass like hours. The caress of his mouth robs the strength from my knees. The instant he offers his tongue, a chill of electricity runs wild across my skin. His soft groan vibrates against my lips, eliciting a warm throb between my legs. And his answer…
“Yes.” His hands collar my throat, snugly, possessively, as he kisses a shivery path to my ear and rasps, “I’m afraid.”
My fingers find his hair and pull his mouth back to mine. “Afraid of?”
“Getting caught.” He turns us, presses my back against the wall, and whispers between drugging licks along my lips. “Going to jail.”