Page 50 of His to Teach
I struggle not to roll my eyes. “For a smart girl, you’re awfully unobservant. Fuck, Harper. Youconsumeme. I feel like I must be so obvious to everyone, because I can’t keep my damn eyes off of you. Being in that room with you, every fucking day, and not being able to touch you…” I close my eyes briefly. “It’s torture.”
I open my eyes, watching as she swallows. “It’s the same for me,” she finally whispers.
Some of that weight seems to slip from my chest. “Yeah?”
She rolls her eyes, smiling now. “Of course, Nate. It was the best damn sex of my life?—”
I can’t help but growl a little bit at that. But then the teasing smile slips from her face and she looks wounded once again. “But why haven’t you called me?” she asks, sounding uncertain. Shy. “I understand that we’re in a difficult situation on campus.But outside of school…it seems like you don’t want to see me then, either.”
I blow out a breath, releasing her hands to run mine through my hair. “That’s just not…” I shake my head, not really sure how to say this. “It’s not usually what I do.” I gesture at the table. “Dinner dates. Phone calls. That’s not really how my relationships work.”
Her face falls. “Oh.”
Fuck. I’ve hurt her feelings. Again. I’m not doing this right. “I’m not saying I don’t want those things,” I say quickly. “I’m just saying…” I blow out another ragged breath. Why in the hell does this have to be so hard? I feel vulnerable, on edge. The exact opposite of the way I like to feel. But I can’t seem to push it down, can’t seem to adopt the unruffled, unaffected mask I usually don so easily with my submissives.
Because Harper is different,a voice whispers in my head. And damn if that doesn’t terrify me.
The waiter returns with our meal and this time I’m relieved to see him. At least this will give me some time to try to get my thoughts in order, to figure out how much I want to admit to her. Once he’s gone, I dip my chin, waiting for her to meet my eyes.
“This is new for me, too, Harper.”
Her eyes narrow a little, studying my face, and it feels like she’s taking me apart, like she can see every single thought in my head. It’s terrifying and exhilarating and it leaves me with the strangest desire to pull her into my lap and tell her everything, every fear and desire I’ve ever had in my life.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
She seems to be choosing her next words carefully. “It’s new for you to…have a relationship? Outside of the club, I mean.”
I nod. “Yes. Usually my relationships are very cut and dry. I see my subs at Wyld and the rest of my life is separate. Unaffected.” I point at her food. “Please eat.”
“Compartmentalized,” she murmurs, then frowns as she dips her fork into the pasta. “And I screw all of that up. I blur lines for you because you see me during the week.”
“You do blur the lines,” I tell her, my voice soft. “But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
“It doesn’t?”
“I like this,” I tell her simply, that vulnerable feeling rising up again. “Being here with you—well, at least before I made you cry.”
She laughs, her cheeks turning the pink shade that makes me so insane and I’m instantly half-hard. “Eat,” I urge again, and she does, looking much happier now. It’s quiet for a few minutes while we both attack our meals. I can’t deny how much I like making her smile like that, how much I want to do it again and again.
“And I like seeing you on campus,” I say lightly, returning to the previous thread of conversation. “Even though I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose my mind one of these days.”
“I think I might enjoy that. You losing your mind with me.” The words are quiet but her gaze is direct, eyes fixed firmly on mine, and I go straight from half hard to solid steel, my pants suddenly very uncomfortable.
“I have every intention of doing just that.” My voice is rough, the need clear in my tone. “At my earliest possible convenience.”
She blushes more deeply and fuck, all I want to do is pull her into the bathroom and show her exactly what it would be like to lose it with her.
But I can’t shake the sight of that tear slipping down her cheek, the knowledge that I hurt her. Confused her.
“I screwed up, Harper.”
Her forehead becomes furrowed. “How?”
“I was trying so hard to keep myself under control at school that I allowed you to feel unimportant.”
She waves a hand, dismissing my words, taking another bite of her pasta before responding. “No, it’s fine. I’m just being sensitive?—”
“Don’t ever apologize for how you feel,” I say firmly. “Not with me. You were right, I should have talked to you, made sure you knew where you stood. As your dom it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable. To be forthright with you. Particularly since this is all new to you.”
