Page 71 of Wicked Little Secret

It’s enough to finally break us apart. Glancing around at the sudden darkness, a second goes by before we realize what’s happened.

The museum staff has left for the evening. They must’ve forgotten we were still here. Raindrops tap against the glass skylight above and reveal the downpour’s only grown worse. The sky’s darkened, signifying how late in the evening it’s become.

Nyssa shoves at my chest and escapes from her position against the wall.

“This is crazy,” she says, rushing out of the room. “We have to stop.”

I’m quick after her. My scowl’s returned. “That’s not possible.”

“Of course it is! And now we’ve been left inside here,” she snaps. “I have to go home.”

“Slow down.”

“You know what, Professor?” On the move, she throws a furious look at me from over her shoulder. “Fuck off!”

“Get back here!”

“I’m leaving!”

The moment descends into another game of cat and mouse. A foot chase as she trots down the tunneled corridor and I dart after her. She doesn’t make it far before I’m overtaking her, grabbing her arms, clenching her within my grip.

“You fight the inevitable,” I growl. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. Don’t pretend it’s not real. If I shoved my fucking hand in your panties, don’t think it won’t be slick with your juices.”

She shakes her head, eyes wide, though I can see the honest glimmer in them.

She can’t bring herself to utter a word because she’s well aware it’s the truth.

I let go of her, a bitter twist of lust thickening inside me. Regarding her with the same kind of severity I had the first day she ran into me in the hall, I gesture at her sweater and denim jeans. “Take off your clothes, Miss Oliver.”

Her features crease in protest. “You’re joking. I refuse to?—”

“Take them off,” I say slower, each word emphasized. “Take them off… or as your teacher, Iwillpunish you.”

The threat hangs in the air for a moment that seems like an eternity.

She’s been stunned into silence, gaping at me like I’ve lost my mind. Her breathing’s hard, nostrils flaring, lips plump and parted.

The moment could go either way—she could knee me in the groin and run for it. She could scream bloody murder and pray someone’s still in the area.

Orshe could obey.

Nyssa Oliver chooses the latter, yet she does so in a way only she could.

Confident and defiant.

Searing me with a harsh glare, she rips her sweater over her head and lets it tumble to the ground. Her fingers go to the button on her jeans. We maintain eye contact as she strips the pair off, sliding them down her hips, then thighs.

My greed is what finally breaks our stare. I spend an aroused second drinking in the sight of her in her bra and panties. Though I’ve seen her nude, it was in secret.

It was as I watched her without her knowledge.

It was nothing like this, witnessing the lush curves in person.

Just for me.

My blood’s hot. My pulse pounds in my ears. I’m composed, yet a ticking time bomb on the inside as I swallow hard.

“Take off your bra,” I order.