Page 74 of His to Teach
I’m crossing the room to him before I consciously decided to move. He wraps me up in his arms, pulling me into his lap, and for the first time today I feel truly calm. I feelright. All of those swirling emotions and doubts from earlier are finally put to rest.
But Nate isn’t so quick to let it go. “Will you let me do that?” he asks, kissing the top of my head. “Will you let me take care of you?”
I know that there’s more to his question. He wants me to tell him what’s bothering me so he can help me. And, I realize, I want to. No. I don’t justwantto tell him—I need to.
“My father died twelve years ago today.” I peek up at him. “That was the day I became an orphan.”
Nate’s features move quickly from surprise to sympathy before settling on confusion. “I thought your father died before your mother. Didn’t you still have her?”
I don’t try to contain the bitter laugh from bubbling out. “Oh, she lived for a few more months, but we lost her that day. As soon as he was gone, so was she.”
His eyes are steady, searching my face, and I want to hide against his neck, to stop myself from talking before these awful thoughts find voice.
But there’s something in Nate’s gaze that urges me to continue, that promises relief if I can just get this out. So I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders.
“She’d been sick for a while,” I say softly. “But her prognosis was pretty decent. The doctors were sure with chemo and radiation she could get through it. That we’d at least have more time.” I blink rapidly, trying to keep the wetness in my eyes from escaping. “When he died, she shut down. She just couldn’t cope.” I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “It’s kind of romantic, really. They loved each other so much. She couldn’t bear to live without him.”
The first tear slips down my face. “But she still had me. I needed her, and she wouldn’t even try for me.”
I’ve been living with these terrible thoughts for so long, unable to tell anyone. Not Emma, not even Mason. But I need Nate to know. “She picked him over me. Picked death over me. She stopped going to chemo. Stopped getting out of bed. She just…faded away. Until it was too late and she was gone too.”
Nate doesn’t say anything, but his arms tighten around me.
“Why wasn’t I enough for her, Nate?” my voice cracks on his name. “Mason was already out of the house, but I was…I was just a little girl.” A sob raises up in my throat and I battle it back. “She just left me.”
“Harper,” he whispers, his voice ragged. “You can cry, sweetheart.”
I shake my head. I cannot cry, not about this.
“Anyhow,” I manage to force out, tone way calmer than I feel. “That’s why I’ve been…off today. It’s always a shitty anniversary for me.”
He stares down at me in his lap, eyes searching my face. “You’re still pushing it down.”
“I have to,” I tell him, voice broken. “If I cry, I won’t be able to stop.”
He watches me for a long moment before finally bringing his mouth down to mine. He kisses me, so softly, his lips barely brushing against mine. “Do you trust me?”
I don’t hesitate. “Of course.”
He slips his arms from my back to my knees and shoulders, gently moving me from the cradled position. Before he even has me in place, I know what he’s going to do. Sure enough, he arranges me across his lap, chest down on the mattress beside him, hips over his knees.
I stiffen, unsure if I want to do this right now, when I’m feeling so mixed up and emotional, but then his voice is in my ear again. “Trust me. Let me help.”
Before I can say anything, his hand comes down hard, right on my ass. I cry out, but he’s already rubbing the sting away. “It’s just a release, Harper,” he murmurs. “Just like pleasure can be a release, so too can pain. That’s why you crave it. That’s why you need it.”
He slaps me again, the sting even worse, and I cry out. Then his hands slide my skirt up, the soft denim brushing against the newly hot skin, baring my ass for him. He groans a little when he sees my bare flesh and lack of panties.
“I didn’t put them back on,” I tell him, feeling both shy and strangely powerful. “After the library. They were too wet.”
“Sometime, I’m going to have to punish you for that,” he murmurs, rubbing his palm across my ass. “For walking around campus with no panties all afternoon without my permission.”
“You’re not punishing me now?” I ask, wiggling my ass a little to prove my point. He chuckles, the sound low and delicious in my ears.
“No, angel. This isn’t punishment. This is a reward.”
Before I can respond, he smacks my ass again, hard, drawing a deep gasp from me. Then once more, no longer pausing to rub the sting from my flesh. His hand comes down over and over, my skin catching fire beneath his palm.
Every blow draws a noise from me—a gasp, a cry, a moan of pleasure. Because thereispleasure, mixed up in this pain, just like there always is with him.
