Page 118 of Wicked Little Secret
“Clean up. Bath or shower?”
“Bath.”
The corner of his mouth twitches in a near grin. “Come. I’ll run you one.”
23
NYSSA
SOBER II (MELODRAMA) - LORDE
“That feels so good,”I sigh, soaking in the warmth of his bathtub.
Theron twirls his fingers in the soapy water, crouched beside where I’m sitting. He’s spent the last few minutes ensuring the bath was everything I preferred—the right temperature, the right amount of suds and soap. He’s brought my wine glass for me to sip on and has taken to gently stroking me here and there.
As I sink deeper into the water, he reaches over and brushes my cheek. “Are you sore anywhere?”
“The warm water’s helping. So is your touch.”
His hand falls to my kneecap. “I like having you here. In my home. In my space.”
“Is that your way of asking if I’ll spend the night?”
“You know exactly what I mean, Nyssa.” His wide shoulders lift as he releases a deep, vexed sigh. “I don’t know if I can wait so long.”
I frown. “Wait so long for… what?”
“I’ll be your professor for the next year and ahalf.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Dread immediately thickens inside me at the realization he wants to talk about our future. Of course it would be on his mind at forty-two. We’ve been seeing each other for weeks now, but never with any label… or promise of anything more than the present.
It’s been implied he’s expected more. He thinks of me as his girlfriend.
We’re exclusive.
His jealous rage over Samson and his father demonstrated that.
But I’ve always kept the idea of a real, defined relationship at arm’s length. It’s been what I’ve had to do in order to move forward with my plan. I can’t plot and scheme for revenge if I’m emotionally invested in my crim law professor.
I can’t do what I’ll need to do if I’m leading with my heart,notmy head…
When my silence answers him, he runs fingers through his rumpled hair and then lets out a dark laugh.
“Of course. I forgot to consider the very obvious fact you’re twenty-two. You’re just starting your life and probably want no real attachments. Certainly not to some man twice your age. The same man who happens to be your professor,” he says matter-of-factly. “This is some kind of… fling for you. A rebound for Wicker?—”
“You’re not my rebound,” I blurt out against my better judgment.
But he needs to know that much.
What I had with Samson was never real. Kissing him felt like kissing a slimy toad.
Every moment was torture.
Whereas every moment with Theron has been… my body trembles while my heart flutters inside my chest.