Her Filthy Professors - Page 37

“Oh. My bad. I didn’t mean to insert myself.” She pulls out of my lap but I don’t let her walk away. I wrap my fingers around her delicate arm, but when she tugs for me to release I do as she silently asks. I never want her to fear me or us. Surrounded by three guys twice her size she needs to know bone deep she will always be safe with us.

“It’s okay Warren. Dinner is ready anyway and I don’t want it to get cold before you get to taste—”

“No, it’s not okay.” I stand and gently turn her to face me. “We don’t want to ask you for help all the time because it looks bad. There’s more to our relationship than hot sex and coding.”

Her eyes dart to the other men before coming to rest on mine. “Kinky,” she says with a tired smile. Her face brightens with what I pray is hope.

“It’s been a little tense lately. I’m sorry about that.”

“We all are,” Erik adds.

“It’s not you guys. I promise.” She turns in my arms to look at each of us in turn. Holding our gazes and reaching for us. “It’s a whole mess of complications I left back home. I’m not sure I’ll have a job to go back to. School. And other things.”

“Our little worrier. You never have to worry about a job.”

“I’m not looking for a free ride, Daemon.”

I shoot him a shut the hell up look overtop her head only to get a mouthed fuck you in return.

Her shoulders rise and she takes a deep breath, “But we do need to talk.” She clutches her stomach. “I’ve been debating this conversation for days and it’s tied my stomach in knots. On top of all that you’ve all shown me a different way of opening myself up. It’s been a lot to take in, honestly.”

Her other hand trembles in mine and I give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Baby, you’re killing me.” I sit, pulling her with me and she fits so damn perfectly in my lap, my arms around her. “You know you can—”

Her hands come to rest on my chest and I have to take a deep breathe before I can continue. That one, small contact makes me feel more grounded than I have my entire life.

Beside us, her phone rings on the dining table and we all four turn.

At first I’m stunned as I look at a familiar unsmiling face staring back at me. But I’ll be honest seeing the name Father under it is what has me reeling.

What the ever-loving fuck?

I snatch up the phone and spin it around. “Why is the dean calling you?” Something tells me we are about to have a big fucking problem.

Jemma goes sheet white before blooming into a glowing red. She grabs the phone and hits the end button.

“About that.”

Our little green-eyed girl has some explaining to do.

“Jemma?”

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