I wiped away the steam from the bathroom mirror, trying to shove down the self-recrimination I saw every time I looked at myself. As much as I hated everything he said and as mad as it made me, he wasn’t wrong. I could see what was wrong with what we’d done. But I also cared enough about my feelings to weigh the pros and cons and know he was worth it.
I knew I shouldn’t have started the game in his office. I definitely should have stopped when we almost got caught. But I hadn’t, and I was paying the price.
However, he lashed out with his words and denials. So, I made him pay the price every day.
His footsteps came closer down the hall, and I flung the bathroom door open, the pleasure of winning bringing my skin to life when he almost stumbled to a stop and took me in wearing a too-small white towel precariously wrapped around me.
“Uncle Will?”
“Jesus,” he sighed to himself.
Yeah, I was making it worse, but I wanted him to admit this wasn’t all a mistake. I wanted him to take back his words about being immature and belittling me. I wanted him to regret hurting my feelings.
“Can I have friends over this weekend? We wanted to swim in the pool before it got too cold.”
“You couldn’t have asked me in the car?”
And miss his eyes trying and failing to not take me in? I shrugged. “I was thinking about it now.”
“Yeah,” he sighed in defeat. “How many people?”
“Just three or four.”
“Fine.”
With that, he moved to leave, and just before I closed the door, I dropped the towel, smiling over his muttered fuck me.
After that show, I gave him a small reprieve in the car and kept silent. Besides, we had class later, and I had plans.
He always tensed up when I walked into the room. This time even more since I sat in the very front when I usually sat in the middle. His eyes kept flicking to me, probably wondering why I moved seats.
At about fifteen minutes into his lecture, I removed my jacket, my nipples growing hard when he faltered over his words and stared. He recovered quickly enough so no one noticed, but I had. I knew he saw the way the thin white shirt barely covered my nipples. The material so thin and tight you could see the pale areola and hard tips.
Whenever his attention snagged on me, I’d brush my fingers subtly across my chest, making it hard to sit still in my seat. Each stroke across my nipples sent a shock to my core, and thirty minutes in, I ached.
It wasn’t until the end that my plan faltered. I’d been so focused on teasing him that I’d stopped paying attention to what he actually said.
“Miss Colins?”
“Umm…yeah?”
“Yeah, isn’t the answer.”
The class’s attention focused on me, and I sat forward, hiding what I’d flaunted for him. Heat flooded my cheeks with each whisper in the seconds that ticked by in my silence. “I didn’t hear the question. Could you repeat it?” I asked, striving for a confidence I didn’t feel.
His jaw clenched under his scruff. “I asked if anyone could explain price elasticity of demand.”
Shit. I vaguely remembered reading it but couldn’t recall off the top of my head. “Uh, yeah. Let me look it up,” I said, flipping the pages of my book.
“Can someone who actually read tell me?” he asked the class, dismissing my attempt.
Hands shot up, and I sank back in my seat, thoroughly embarrassed, struggling through the last five minutes of class. When he dismissed us, I shoved everything in my bag, my head down, desperate to regroup. Just as I stood, his voice stopped me from escape.
“A word, Miss Colins.”
“Good luck,” a guy I sat next to whispered.
I managed an annoyed smile with an eye roll, acting like being called after class was no big deal.
Once the class cleared out, Will moved in front of the desk and leaned back, crossing his arms and legs.
“Do you even like this class? Or are you just wasting time and money so you can torture me?”
“It was one question, Will.”
“In the first month of class. A question you should have been able to answer. It only gets harder from here.”
“I was distracted.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“Oh, don’t act like you weren’t distracted.” I wanted to provoke him into admitting he couldn’t take his eyes off me because he wanted me.
“The difference was, that I didn’t want to be. You want to drop your towel at home? Fine. But keep it there, Arabella. This is my job, and this is your education. Stop being so selfish and really think about what you’re doing. Is this really what you want to do?”
“I’m not a child,” I defended. Like a child.
I didn’t know how to answer, and it scared me sober, leaving me to lash out.