Page 89 of The Teacher of Nothing
I lift my chin, tearing my eyes from my notes to where he sits perched on the edge of his desk. Somewhere during his lecture, he lost his suit jacket. The crisp, white material of his dress shirt stretches to the limits over his broad shoulders and muscular biceps. He’s leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and his plum tie slightly sways in front of him.
I want to wrap my fist in the silky material and pull him to me. To kiss away the frown on his lips and beg him to take us back to where we were two weeks ago. Before all this…drama.
Instead, I gather up my belongings once the last person has left the room, shoulder my bag, and walk toward the front of the room.
“Set your bag down,” Callum instructs when I’m up front.
He slides off the desk and strides over to the classroom door. My eyes follow his ass, barely contained in his charcoal slacks. It’s hard not to drool over this man. His body is perfection, his voice is heaven, and his mouth is an addiction I’m desperate for another hit of.
The door clicks shut, effectively silencing the noise in the hallway. Now, all that can be heard, is the dull roar of blood rushing through my ears.
“Come here.”
His command is deep and authoritative. It leaves no room for argument. Despite my lingering anger and hurt, I find myself obeying him. Needing to be told what to do.
I slowly walk toward him, my knees slightly wobbly, until I’m two feet away from him. He closes the gap, stepping until we’re so close I have to crane my neck to look up at his handsome face.
“Sweetheart, you’re breaking my heart.”
I swallow at his pained words. Concern etches into his face at the tiny crow’s feet near the corners of his eyes and a few lines between his brows. Fierce blue eyes dart over my face, inspecting every detail, every expression.
“Why?” I croak out, swallowing hard.
He lifts a hand, cupping my cheek. My eyes flutter closed and I lean into his touch. “You’re so fucking sad. I can’t stand seeing you this way.”
Tears fill my lids, but I don’t let them spill over, instead blinking several times to chase them away. I attempt to look away—anywhere else—but his thumb presses into my cheek and he clutches my face so I can’t. A whimper crawls out of me as his thumb caresses my skin.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” His words are filled with the same pain that claws away at my insides. “Ineedyou to talk to me.”
The desperation in his voice has me lifting my hands and skating them over the front of his chest. I want to comfort him somehow. Make the sadness go far, far away from him. He shudders at my touch and a sound I’ve never heard him make echoes in the classroom.
Need.
Anguish.
Misery.
I understand his feelings wholeheartedly and want to erase them. It was easier to be angry at him when it felt like he was being a dick, but this is different. He’s in pain. Pain I’ve somehow caused, even by accident.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You had it all wrong and I was mad at you for assuming the worst.”
His gaze darkens as he swipes away a tear that’s escaped down my cheek. “Assuming the worst?”
God, he’s such an idiot, but clearly Jamie screwed with his mind. Instead of getting upset, I should have been patient with him. I should have let him cool off and then explain that I’d never betray him like she did.
“It was just a party with my new friends. Nothing more. I thought about you the whole time. Wished I were with you instead. Everything transpired so quickly with them showing up at my house, so I didn’t have an opportunity to let you know what was happening. But I assure you, it was all in fun, and nothing whatsoever romantic. I didn’t deceive you intentionally.” I bite down on my lip when it wobbles. “I hate that you didn’t trust me. You never let me explain, Callum.”
“I begged you to talk to me for two weeks,” he murmurs. “Why now?”
“Because I’m tired of being apart. I need you—need us. I’m sorry. I should have handled it better.”
He dips his head forward, running his nose along mine. “I fucked up.” His eyes close and he lets out a ragged sigh. “I overreacted and fucked everything up. Jesus, sweetheart, I’m sorry too.”
Before I can even revel in his words I’ve been aching to hear for two weeks, his mouth descends upon mine. I willingly greet him with parted lips. The kiss starts as something tentative and hopeful but quickly turns ravenous.
Teeth and tongues and slick lips.
He’s trying to devour me whole and I love it. I need it. I need him. Our kiss feels like a blissful eternity and then he’s pulling away.
