Page 122 of They Are Mine

Elliot.

She’s got it bad. On a first name basis. That could be an issue.

Like Tammy.

She needs to learn her place.

But a therapist?

Huh. I guess I need some fucking therapy, then.

I’ll get his office hours off the website.

I nod, barely listening as she drones on about some online portal where I can add new classes.

Who cares?

I’m already plotting.

I can’t even think as I leave, moving on autopilot toward class.

Elliot.

It sounds so dignified.

Mr. Sterling.

Oh, I like that even better.

Shit. Maybe he likes being called sir.

That could be… fun.

My very own sir.

I swallow hard.

How am I supposed to get through class now?

I should be following him home.

I need a new notebook.

Elliot.

I let the name roll around in my head, savoring it, tasting it, imagining it whispered against his skin.

I need to know something before I turn up in his office, don’t I?

Yes.

Definitely.

As much as I want to throw myself onto his couch and let him ruin me, I have standards.

He might snore.

Or chew with his mouth open.

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