car if it would make her more comfortable.
‘I don’t give a damn about the seats,’ I snap. ‘All I care about is stopping you from getting hypothermia. Christ, what were you thinking? If I hadn’t been there ...’
Blood pulses in my temples. I push thoughts away. Horrible thoughts. The idea of a world without her in it …
Christ.
I’m in trouble. I shouldn’t feel this way. It just can’t be.
‘I’m glad you found me,’ she whispers.
So am I.
Using every ounce of self-control, I lean over and slot my key into the ignition.
My breathing quickens as I feel her body under my arm. She’s soaked through and trembling, and it’s all I can do to stop myself tearing off her clothes and pulling her into my arms.
The dashboard lights up and I turn the heater dial to maximum. But it won’t be enough. Not when she’s sitting here in these wet things.
‘Take your clothes off,’ I bark, trying to make the words sound formal. A normal sort of instruction.
‘Wh … what?’ she stammers, and I feel a jab in my heart. She knows perfectly well what taking her clothes off for a man could mean.
I’ve embarrassed her and I feel actual pain in my chest.
Has she taken her clothes off for other men?
I feel a flash of anger at that thought. If anyone, any man, ever hurt her … humiliated her …
‘Your clothes,’ I say, my voice curt. Formal. The strict teacher dealing with a wayward pupil. ‘Now. Before you catch your death. I have running clothes in the trunk. You can put those on.’ I pause. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t watch.’
And she really has nothing to worry about. Because I have absolutely no desire to see her naked. Or to put it another way, I have far too much desire. Which means I know how dangerous it could be. Christ, what her naked body would do to me … my self-control is already hanging by a thread.
I fetch her my running gear from the trunk – a grey sweatshirt and jogging bottoms. I try not to think of her bare skin touching my clothes.
‘Put these on,’ I say, throwing the clothes at her and slamming the passenger door closed.
I turn around and fold my arms, frowning at the dark turrets of the college.
The ivy hangs in bulky shadows from the college walls. It looks soft, almost pillowy, in the moonlight.
I imagine laying Sophia down on a bed of thick ivy and …
No .
I shake the thought away, uncomfortably aware that she could be completely naked by now. I can sense her movements, the car bobbing slightly against my back.
Then there is stillness.
I take a quick glance, and see she is dressed in my running gear, lost in folds of grey.
I walk around the car and jump in the driver’s seat, slamming the door closed.
There’s tension in the car. The air is heavy with unspoken words – mine and hers.
She feels something for me. I know that. But … it’s a different sort of something than I’m used to. She’s not looking at what she can get from me. She sees more than just Marc Blackwell the actor. The teacher. She sees me . Which is fucking terrifying.
So many women have come and gone. But none of them saw me. Not one. They said they loved me, and perhaps some of them did in a way. They certainly loved what I did for them. But what they really saw was an illusion. A character. A hero in a movie. They didn’t see the real me.
The silence is suddenly unbearable, and I feel I have to break it or else I’m going to do something stupid. Like pull Sophia onto my lap, grasp her hair at the nape of her neck and kiss her.
‘Better?’ I ask, feeling the heating ducts. They’re blasting out hot air, and I know she’ll be warm and dry soon. Which is a relief.
‘Yes thank you,’ she says, but she’s still shivering.
Every instinct in my body tells me to grab her. To pull her into my arms and chase away the cold. But I can’t.
I can’t .
She is a student. I am her teacher. This cannot and will not ever be. I will not let it be. She is good and pure and innocent and I
‘I don’t give a damn about the seats,’ I snap. ‘All I care about is stopping you from getting hypothermia. Christ, what were you thinking? If I hadn’t been there ...’
Blood pulses in my temples. I push thoughts away. Horrible thoughts. The idea of a world without her in it …
Christ.
I’m in trouble. I shouldn’t feel this way. It just can’t be.
‘I’m glad you found me,’ she whispers.
So am I.
Using every ounce of self-control, I lean over and slot my key into the ignition.
My breathing quickens as I feel her body under my arm. She’s soaked through and trembling, and it’s all I can do to stop myself tearing off her clothes and pulling her into my arms.
The dashboard lights up and I turn the heater dial to maximum. But it won’t be enough. Not when she’s sitting here in these wet things.
‘Take your clothes off,’ I bark, trying to make the words sound formal. A normal sort of instruction.
‘Wh … what?’ she stammers, and I feel a jab in my heart. She knows perfectly well what taking her clothes off for a man could mean.
I’ve embarrassed her and I feel actual pain in my chest.
Has she taken her clothes off for other men?
I feel a flash of anger at that thought. If anyone, any man, ever hurt her … humiliated her …
‘Your clothes,’ I say, my voice curt. Formal. The strict teacher dealing with a wayward pupil. ‘Now. Before you catch your death. I have running clothes in the trunk. You can put those on.’ I pause. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t watch.’
And she really has nothing to worry about. Because I have absolutely no desire to see her naked. Or to put it another way, I have far too much desire. Which means I know how dangerous it could be. Christ, what her naked body would do to me … my self-control is already hanging by a thread.
I fetch her my running gear from the trunk – a grey sweatshirt and jogging bottoms. I try not to think of her bare skin touching my clothes.
‘Put these on,’ I say, throwing the clothes at her and slamming the passenger door closed.
I turn around and fold my arms, frowning at the dark turrets of the college.
The ivy hangs in bulky shadows from the college walls. It looks soft, almost pillowy, in the moonlight.
I imagine laying Sophia down on a bed of thick ivy and …
No .
I shake the thought away, uncomfortably aware that she could be completely naked by now. I can sense her movements, the car bobbing slightly against my back.
Then there is stillness.
I take a quick glance, and see she is dressed in my running gear, lost in folds of grey.
I walk around the car and jump in the driver’s seat, slamming the door closed.
There’s tension in the car. The air is heavy with unspoken words – mine and hers.
She feels something for me. I know that. But … it’s a different sort of something than I’m used to. She’s not looking at what she can get from me. She sees more than just Marc Blackwell the actor. The teacher. She sees me . Which is fucking terrifying.
So many women have come and gone. But none of them saw me. Not one. They said they loved me, and perhaps some of them did in a way. They certainly loved what I did for them. But what they really saw was an illusion. A character. A hero in a movie. They didn’t see the real me.
The silence is suddenly unbearable, and I feel I have to break it or else I’m going to do something stupid. Like pull Sophia onto my lap, grasp her hair at the nape of her neck and kiss her.
‘Better?’ I ask, feeling the heating ducts. They’re blasting out hot air, and I know she’ll be warm and dry soon. Which is a relief.
‘Yes thank you,’ she says, but she’s still shivering.
Every instinct in my body tells me to grab her. To pull her into my arms and chase away the cold. But I can’t.
I can’t .
She is a student. I am her teacher. This cannot and will not ever be. I will not let it be. She is good and pure and innocent and I
Similar Books
