Shawn leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. Were you scared?”
“I’m not a baby,” Emily said. “I’m big. We’re there already?”
“No,” Shawn said.
“Then why did the car stop?”
Shawn cleared his throat. How was he supposed to answer that? “Because Mr. Rutledge and I needed to talk.”
Rutledge started the engine.
Emily yawned. “Why couldn’t you talk in the car?”
“Because—because we didn’t want to wake you up.”
Emily frowned but seemed to accept the explanation. Her eyes started closing again.
Breathing out, Shawn turned away from her and looked at the passing scenery.
“Put on the seatbelt,” Rutledge ordered after a while.
Shawn put on the seatbelt and muttered, “Control freak.”
“So are you done freaking out?” Rutledge’s tone was sardonic.
“I wasn’t freaking out.” Realizing he said it a bit too loud, Shawn lowered his voice. “Why would I? So you gave me a hand-job. Big deal. I haven’t had sex in ages, and you know kissing turns me on.”
Rutledge said nothing and returned his gaze to the road, his face completely unreadable.
Shawn studied him. “You know, I’m curious about something,” he murmured. “Why me? Why do you pay me an obscene amount of money for a few blowjobs? You don’t even need to pay for sex. I’m sure lots of gay men would gladly have sex with you. I mean, it’s not like you’re ugly or something. So why me?”
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Nope. I’m genuinely curious.”
“I wanted to fuck you since the moment you entered my classroom a few months ago. It’s as simple as that.”
Shawn moistened his lips, his stomach doing a little flip-flop. “You wanted me for that long?”
Rutledge snorted, without looking at him. “I wasn’t pining or anything, Wyatt. I wanted to get my dick in you. You’re just my type.”
“Blond?”
“No. I don’t mean your looks. If we go by looks alone, your friend, Ashford, is more my type than you.”
Shawn’s gut clenched. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Christian was extremely attractive. Hell, everyone was attracted to him. And with his dark brown hair, expressive brown eyes and sensual red lips, he was Shawn’s complete opposite. Shawn always felt pale and washed out next to his friend.
“So if it was Christian who offered sex for a grade, you’d do it?”
Rutledge shot him a strange look. “No.”
The muscles in Shawn’s gut unclenched. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to fuck him,” Rutledge said crudely. He was starting to look irritated, for some reason. “Finding someone physically attractive is not the same thing as wanting them.”
“So what did you mean when you said I’m your type?”
Rutledge was quiet for so long Shawn started to think he wasn’t going to reply at all.
There was a touch of self-deprecation in his voice when he spoke, “It’s all very cliché. When I was in school, I was a stereotypical unpopular nerd.”
“Really?” Looking at this self-assured, arrogant man, Shawn had trouble believing that.
“Of course I was. I got my PhD at twenty-three, Wyatt. I didn’t exactly have the time to socialize with people.”
“That explains a lot,” Shawn muttered. “Let me guess: there was a popular jock you had a crush on and I look like him?”
“He looked nothing like you.”
“Then how is that relevant?”
“If you stop interrupting me, you’ll find out.” Rutledge’s lips curled. “He was the stereotypical popular jock. Obviously straight as an arrow and acted like he owned the world, and I wanted… I looked at him and imagined forcing my dick down his throat. Imagined holding him down and making him beg to be fucked. Making a straight boy beg for my cock.”
Shawn swallowed and glanced at the girls to make sure they were asleep. “Where are you going with this?”
Rutledge shrugged slightly, his eyes on the road. “Pretty, straight, and unattainable: that’s pretty much my type. If you let me fuck you, I’ll get bored of you. I always get bored of them.”
Shawn crossed his arms over his chest, feeling cold all of a sudden.
“Who’s done it to you?” he asked at last, looking at the passing countryside. It was getting dark.
“What?”
“Someone fucked you up.” Shawn turned his head to him. “It’s not healthy to enter into relationships knowing they’re doomed to fail—that you would lose interest in the guy after you fuck him. And it’s really fucked up to have straight, unattainable guys as your type. Are you afraid of commitment? Or of something else?”
Rutledge’s jaw was clenched so tightly that the cords on his neck stood out. “Spare me your pseudo-psychological analysis. The explanation is actually much simpler: I just like corrupting and fucking straight boys. It turns me on. And before you call me an asshole: I’m always honest with them. Most bi-curious ‘straight’ guys eventually want to go back to their straight lives anyway, and I don’t do long-term relationships. So it’s a win-win for everyone involved. No strings attached.”