Page 74 of Pretty Secrets

If Eden was smart, she’d stick with Oliver and get the hell away from us.

“Why are you here?” I ask. “Really?” When she looks up at me again, I continue. “I can’t imagine your parents are happy with you being at Carnegie after…everything.”

Eloquently put, asshat.

“They’re not.” She peers away, sending the sidewalk in front of us a withering glare. “But someone has to do it, right? Dad didn’t get a son like the other elite families. All he had was Delilah, and now she’s gone.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t—”

“You don’t know anything.”

My jaw tenses. I know more than she thinks I do. Males in this fucking society dominate. I get it.

She sighs, and it’s that bit of childish behavior that sets me off. I stop, pulling back on her hand and making her whirl toward me. “You’re not the only one who’s gone through shit.”

She blinks at me, then glances at my grip on her arm. People walk around us, and I immediately let her go so we don’t make a scene.

We fall back into walking together toward class when a feminine voice calls out, “Alaric!”

I already know its owner, and I groan. “You know it’s Professor Barclay,” I grunt.

The girl that walks up to us may look like Eden on the outside—polished, put together, the whole package—but she’s nothing like her. She’s like a cardboard cutout, whereas Eden doesn’t know how to be anything other than 3D.

“You look handsome today,” she says, ignoring my comment.

“Inappropriate,” I tell her as I sidestep around her, forcing Eden to move out of my way and follow me.

The girl quicky catches up once we’re inside the building. She’s always the first to class, and I hate it. I turn to ask Eden not to leave me alone with her, but she’s already gone. Left me here with this fake.

“I’m looking forward to you teaching me something today.”

The innuendo is all over the place in that sentence. An earlier version of me would’ve acted by now. Maybe the guy who showed up here on the first day of this term would have, also, but not now. “I teach stuff every day,” I tell her, stopping at the entrance to my classroom to search for a blonde head of hair amongst the students walking to their respective classes.

“Yeah, but nothing I want to know,” she says, trying to act coy but only coming off as desperate. I’d have to check her last name again, but I’m pretty sure she’s one of the lower-rung families. Got here on good grades instead of her last name. Those types are always attempting to move up the ranks. I may not be a Jarvis or an Astor, but Barclay isn’t some schmuck name either.

Before, it’d be so easy to use girls who were just worried about status, then pull some lame excuse like they didn’t do it for me. But it’s getting more difficult the older I get. I’ll be expected to pair off soon. Start churning out male heirs so the rest of my family can calm the fuck down.

I push past her and head to my desk. Thankfully, more students begin to file in, so I don’t have to pretend to have a one-sided conversation with this girl.

I pull my chair out, set my briefcase on the desk, and sit, attempting to assimilate into professor mode instead of wondering what Eden’s up to and whether I should text Leo to follow her since she bailed on me. My stomach clenches. We’re supposed to watch her at all times. I’m wracking my brain, trying to remember where her class is. Student schedules are in the faculty portal, so I pull out my laptop. I’ll send her schedule to Leo so he can find her. We don’t need another instance of the Knights getting the drop on us.

Fucking Oliver. At least he was always around to make sure no one could get to her. Now we don't even have—

I’m yanked forward, my chest almost slamming into the desk. A hand cups my cock and I jump. Sliding back, I find a heavy-lidded Eden seated under my desk.

She gives me a mischievous grin, before reaching for me again. She grabs the end of my pant leg and pulls me forward, fingertips sliding over the sudden bulge in my pants.

My hands turn to fists, and I snap my gaze up to see if anyone is paying attention.

“You alright, Professor Barclay?” a student asks.

I nod, throat working. “Rammed my knee into the desk. All good,” I say as Eden strokes me through the fabric of my clothes. It isn’t just my cock she’s paying attention to, but massaging up my thigh, fingertips grazing my now massive erection.

I don’t know what’s come over her, but fuck. This is both highly inappropriate and something I’ve been fantasizing about when it comes to her.

More students saunter in. The veins on my arms pop as I try not to let my face hint to what’s happening below. Thank fuck for these intimidating, ostentatious desks Carnegie has in every room.

Pushing on the inside of my knees, she forces my legs wide. I shift in my seat, allowing her space. Her fingers move upward and grasp onto the top of my pants.

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