Page 89 of Brat Baby
Raising my head, I make eye contact with Derek, my vision tunneling down to him as fire engulfs me and I explode. The vibrations don’t let up, and my eyes close as the waves of pleasure continue to roll through me, unrelentingly.
Until the vibes cut out.
Everything feels really hot and my lungs ache, because apparently, I haven’t been breathing.
I suck in a massive gulp of air, my vision coming back, and all I see is a feral-looking Derek staring back at me. He’s still teaching, his mouth still moving as he provides the content to the rest of his students.
But I don’t hear any of it.
That bubble of hope that I’ve been carrying around swells even larger.
Because the man who is staring back at me isn’t Derek.
Daddy’s home.
I relax back in my seat, place my hands back over the keyboard, a smile on my lips, and go back to typing as I hear the classroom door open and close.
Derek doesn’t look in my direction again for the rest of the class.
But that’s okay. I have all the time in the world to play this game with him. And I play to win.
Chapter 45
Emery
I glance at the time—five minutes left of Derek’s class, and I’m pretty sure this is the last slide.
For the last hour and forty-something minutes, I’ve been plotting my next move. The only thing I’ve come up with so far is to just go and talk to Derek. Catch him while he is still inprofessor mode and force him to talk to me. Maybe ask him for one-on-one tutoring.
“And that’s all for today. Please ensure you have read chapter five and completed the exercises, as Wednesday’s class will assume you are up to date on the content. We will not be returning to this content until your mid-term exam,” Derek states in that don’t-mess-with-me tone he gets sometimes, closing his laptop.
I have to actively not think about the times I’ve heard that tone, with a slightly firmer quality, because if I do, then I’m fairly certain I’ll combust on the spot.
As quickly as possible, I pack up my things, shoving everything into my backpack haphazardly. I start to stand, but a weight presses down on my shoulder.
I almost crick my neck with how fast I turn to look at the offensive thing touching me. Which turns out to be Will’s hand. Oops.
“Hey, Ems, you okay? You didn’t look great earlier.” My irritation melts away at the very real concern in his light blue eyes.
That all-American boyish charm, softened by his need to comfort me, does something weird to my heart, which I ignore. Doing my best to shove down my annoyance—because how would he know he’s slowing me down from attempting to seduce our professor?—I try to find an answer for him. “Ah, yeah. Just, girl things, you know?”
Understanding dawns and his eyebrows shoot up. To his credit, he doesn’t back off or get embarrassed. “Do you need anything?”
At first, I’m a little lost for words, because who is this guy? There would have been a Tray-shaped hole in the wall the moment I started to say anything about my period.
“Ah, no, I’m good. Just a bad cramp. Thank you, though.” I reach up and pat his hand awkwardly. “You’re a good guy, Will.”
With a smirk, he finally releases my shoulder and sits back in his chair. “I know.”
I laugh and roll my eyes at him. “Whatever.”
He turns serious again. “Are you still interested in that study group? I got a few messages during class about asking you to join.”
Oh, right. “Ah, yeah, sure. Happy to join. Send me the details?”
He grins and pulls out his phone. “You’re going to have to give me your phone number. We have a WhatsApp chat.”
I purse my lips and squint at him. “Promise to only use it for the study group?”
