Read Online To Sir by Rachell Nichole - Free Book Online

hardwired stuff. And the need to be truthful to yourself about your desires.” Did she sound like she was admitting she was one of those people in denial? Or like she was consenting to let him show her how to stop denying herself? She wasn’t sure. “Hawke and Sarah know who they are, what they want. It’s not about them exploring boundaries or where they are on the Masters Kink Scale.”
    “What is it about?” He didn’t seem inclined to release her gaze, or her hand, anytime soon.
    “I can’t take notes with you holding me hostage,” she said, her voice breathy, restless.
    His tongue darted out and wet his bottom lip. Her thighs clenched tighter together, the pressure at once feeling wonderful and awful at the apex of her legs. He leaned in close over the table, his large frame suddenly crowding her, though there was still at least a foot between them. “If you really want me to let you go, you have to say so. Don’t make some passive-aggressive comment about not being able to write in this position.”
    God, this was like the best and worst game of are you nervous ever. She’d played it as a kid at those parties she’d sneaked out to attend. She’d always won, while some boy’s—or girl’s—hand crept higher and higher up her thigh, attempting to make her squirm. But this guy made her squirm without even trying.
    Still, he was going to make her say it. Make her admit what she wanted and voice it. “Let. Go.”
    There. An implacable direct order that didn’t make her sound weak at all. She wasn’t asking, wasn’t pleading with him to release her. She was demanding it. But what the hell would she do if he refused?
    CHASE WANTED TO keep the connection between them. But she’d been very clear this time. After he’d pushed her, that was. Reluctantly, he released her hand and slid back onto his bench. Her almond-shaped eyes were dilated again, and he could see them better today. She’d chosen less dramatic makeup around her eyes, with a softer blue liner in place of the harsh black she’d worn the first time they met. Even her outfit was less harsh, showing him the vulnerable inside he’d glimpsed when she posed, ass in the air, for him on the spanking bench. His cock spasmed with the memory of her in that position every time he thought of it. Now, as he sat across from her, with her sweet vanilla scent wafting around his kitchen and her sassy voice trying to order him about, his dick was roaring to life in his tight jeans.
    She scribbled something on the pad of paper he couldn’t read upside down. “For a writer, you have really shitty penmanship,” he said.
    She ignored him, still scribbling furiously, until she snapped the notebook up and turned the page, then returned the purple tip to the lined paper, almost ripping it in her haste to write faster. Ms. Elizabeth Clark seemed practically oblivious to him as she wrote. He watched as she focused on the page, and then she closed her eyes. Silky brown hair cascaded from behind her ear, hiding part of her downturned face from his view. She didn’t seem to notice, and he resisted the urge to reach out and tuck the strands behind her ear.
    He’d seen this kind of devout focus before, on the face of people fully immersed in a scene, totally unaware of anything around them except the person, or people, playing with them. She was amazing like this. Writing with her eyes closed seemed to make her go faster. The scrawls glided above and below those orderly lines, and when she got to the bottom of the page, she flipped the book over and effortlessly started at the top of the blank surface without opening her eyes.
    It bothered him that she wouldn’t acknowledge him, but he relished the opportunity to study her in her natural habitat. Her cheeks tinted pink, her mouth slipped open, and it almost killed him not to snatch away her notebook and read what she was writing. Whatever it was must have been hot, because the evidence of her growing arousal was as