by Lara Norman
Instead, Hudson set his phone on the coffee table and made dinner for himself, trying to put it all out of his mind. He should have known that was impossible. His weekend was wide open, and there was Reagan, ignoring his texts and angrier than a spitting cobra when he tracked her down in person. He knew it was dangerous to approach her in public, but surely it wasn't a coincidence that she was there in the cafeteria when he was. He skipped picking up food, thinking that maybe telling her more about himself would soften her toward him.
He decided to do just that. He pulled up the message composer and simply began typing. He told her how his father was an overbearing asshole and that he came over without warning at Camilla’s behest. Hudson explained that he lost his nerve and didn't explain to her immediately on that Friday night what was happening. He apologized for many things, including the way he’d never invited her out anywhere because he was scared. He hated feeling out of control, and he could only blame her for those feelings when in reality it wasn’t her fault. He admitted that his feelings went further than lust but that he was terrified of never living up to his father’s lofty expectations. He poured his heart out to her in text after text.
He waited for an answer, any answer at all. He expected her to reply or maybe even call him. His dinner went cold as he anticipated her response, but none came. Frustrated, he threw his phone on the counter and reheated his dinner. He forced himself to eat as he simmered in anger at her refusal to acknowledge his attempt at apologizing. He tried to tell himself he didn't need her or her forgiveness, but he knew he was lying to himself.
He needed anything she could give him, and he needed it desperately.
Chapter Sixteen
Reagan had to see him one more time; she didn't have a choice. His was the last class she had to attend for exams. She was comfortable in her knowledge of the material and not even a little worried about passing. The subjects she found to be harder were all done with. If she was going to fail any of those tests, it was too late to worry about it. Reagan thought about the unlikelihood of that as she walked down the hall to Professor Clark’s class. She was the straight A student, the one that never got in trouble or caused a scene. She was the one whose high school teacher praised as being a good girl. She needed their accolades like she needed to breathe. Making Grant proud was her constant goal in life, and she’d always been an overachiever.
So as she walked into that last class it was with nothing but the intention of completing her exam and getting the hell out of town. She wanted to see her brother again, to spend a month away from the influence of her professor. Reagan wanted to forget about him for at least a little while. He wasn't worth her time or thoughts at the moment, and she wasn’t at all sure if he ever would be. She’d once had vague thoughts of what would happen between them when they were no longer professor/student, but now her brain fired off questions left and right. Would she even give him the chance to explain his actions? Would he want to give them a chance? Did she want that, too?
She couldn't help glancing in his direction as she passed the table where he sat. His head was down, the fluorescent lights from above them giving a harsh shine to his reddish hair. He didn't even look up so she continued on until she reached her seat. She wasn't going to focus on him. She was going to take her exam and she was going pass with flying colors. She was prepared. Reagan pulled her earbuds out of her jacket pocket and put them in, preparing to tune everything else out as soon as the exam began. She left the music off as she looked around the room at the other students. She suddenly wondered what everyone else had going on in their lives. Was she the only one obsessing over a professor? Her eyes widened as it occurred to her that any of the girls in her class could be attracted to Hudson. He was certainly handsome, and he carried an air of authority that was a turn-on. He commanded attention when he lectured, and Reagan often had a hard time focusing enough on his words and not drifting into a fantasy realm starring her and Hudson. She wondered if any of them had requested to see him in his office and tried to come on to him. She wondered if he'd taken any of them up on their offers, and that thought made her squirm in her seat. She didn't know anything about his principles.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Hudson standing and giving the speech about time limits, not cheating, and blah blah blah. As soon as he stopped talking she turned her playlist on and cranked up the volume. The only way she would be able to focus on the task at hand was to drown out all of her other thoughts.
Time passed quickly for her as she completed the questions in front of her. She knew what she was doing and she didn't falter. Even after double checking her answers she was still the first one finished. She raised her head and looked around her at the other students, noting that their heads were bent to their tasks. As Reagan’s gaze roamed she was startled to see the professor glaring directly at her. She shifted under his intense scrutiny but found herself unable to look away. She felt compelled to stare back at him, his eyes locked on hers as though he’d placed her in a trance. She tried to read the emotions he was directing at her but she failed. He just looked pissed off, as far as she could tell. She wanted to run, to turn in her test and flee. She fidgeted as thoughts of doing just that invaded her mind. Hudson had a way of drowning out all else around them until she was laser-focused on his face. She traced the contour of his cheekbones in her mind, thinking that she wanted to cup his face and kiss him. She wanted to mess up his brushed-back hair, wanted to pull his ear to her mouth and ask him to do more of the dirty things he’d done before. She saw flashes of her fingers in his mouth, of his head between her thighs, of the expression of bliss on his face as he came in her mouth.
Suddenly flushed and burning up, Reagan looked away to catch her breath. She felt as though she’d run a marathon with the way her breathing came shallow and sharp. She thought about removing her jacket but changed her mind. Her shirt was thin, her nipples were hard, and it would be obvious what he was doing to her. No one had ever affected her the way he did. Hudson had put a spell on her until she became someone else, her actions not like her at all. She wanted to launch herself at him and damn the consequences of who saw.
Shaken, Reagan stood and collected her things. She picked up her completed exam and carried it in trembling fingers as she approached him. Swallowing became difficult as she walked ever closer, her knees weak and her heart racing beneath her ribs. Her nipples were past the hard stage and moved on to tingling, her panties had dampened, and she couldn't even see clearly. She took a deep breath and straightened her back when she reached the table.
“Done already, Miss Hughes?”
His voice was even, smooth and unperturbed. She shivered.
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you confident that you don’t need more time?”
She frowned. “I’m sure.”
“Very well.”
He held his hand out when she would have dropped the paper on the only thing separating their bodies. She sucked in a breath and considered how best to put the stapled pages on his flat palm. Realizing that she would never be able to touch him and still walk out on her own two feet, she ignored his hand and placed the packet on the polished surface between them.
“I sent you several messages,” he said extremely quietly.
Her eyebrows went up. “I don't know what you mean.”
His lips in a moue, he glared at her long and hard. “After I ran into you—”
“Is that what you call that? It felt more like stalking.”
With his jaw clenched he leaned back in his chair and Reagan realized she was bent in his direction over the tabletop. “This is not the time, nor the place. I made an attempt that went ignored.”
“I blocked your number after the first few messages.”
Hudson looked over her shoulder to make certain no one was paying them any attention. “Well, then”—he returned his gaze to hers—“unblock it.”
“I don’t need this. I’m going home for the winter break so I can forget about
you.” She crossed her arms defensively over her chest.
He smirked at her and her insides did cartwheels. “Like you really believe that’ll happen.”
He flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture and she barely resisted the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. She didn't know what to say, but she didn't want to leave for the sole reason that she was compelled to defy him.
“Unless you plan on meeting me in my office in thirty minutes, you might as well go.”
“Oh, my God, you’re an asshole,” she ground out in a near whisper.
They remained staring at one another for several seconds, but Reagan knew she had no choice but to leave. She couldn't stand there in front of her classmates forever and have a fight without any raised voices. Especially since she wanted nothing more than to scream at him for acting like a jerk.
Why did he have to be a jerk she couldn't resist? Why in the world was she so turned on that she couldn't walk straight down the hall? Why did she have an overwhelming urge to turn down the short passage from one hall to the other until she found herself in front of his office door? She was fairly ashamed of the fact that she’d broken in before using nothing more than a plastic discount card. It would take no effort to get in again. None at all.
She squeezed her eyes closed and stopped walking. She felt weak when she was so drawn to Hudson. He jumbled her senses until all she could focus on was him and what he could do for her. She wanted him in a way that felt entirely senseless. He wasn't even nice to her more than half the time, and yet, she couldn't resist him. She stood there undecided for what felt like a very long time.
Hudson turned off the overhead lights and closed and locked the classroom door. The semester was officially over and he had seen off the last of his students. The only thing he had to do over the course of the month was to grade the exams and enter the information into the student database. After that, he was free to dodge his mother’s calls about the upcoming holidays and drink to forget all of it. He didn't know what to make of Reagan admitting she’d blocked his number and implying he was stalking her. It was an actual coincidence that he had run into her in the cafeteria. The day before Thanksgiving notwithstanding, he had never done anything that could pass for that which she’d accused him. Sighing, he walked down the hall to his office and hoped without any real conviction behind it that she would be there waiting for him. He knew how foolish it was to continue chasing her. He understood he was jeopardizing his career by pursuing Reagan and couldn't even seem to find it in himself to care anymore. He wanted to defy his parents for once, and that thought brought him up short with the key in his hand, poised to unlock the doorknob.
Had he done all of this as an act of rebellion? Like a sullen teenager that was mad at his parents for enforcing curfew, had he done the opposite of what was expected with Reagan on purpose? He was tempting fate with that girl, and he suddenly had doubts about his motivation. Staying away from her hadn’t worked, being an asshole and sending her away hadn't worked, giving in and having her on his desk hadn't worked. His apologies hadn't even been heard so he didn't know if they would have made a difference in what could only tenuously be called their relationship. It was less the vision of her naked on his desk—God help him, it made him hard even then—and more the vision of her on his arm at a party with his peers that made him want something more. She was most likely all wrong for his parents’ circle, and he couldn't even picture bringing her home without cringing. So why did he think he could show up to a double date with José and nobody would bat an eye at him for being with his former student? It was ludicrous, really, but he didn't think he cared anymore. It was what he wanted. For perhaps the first time in his life, he wanted something for himself that didn't have a stamp of approval from everyone else. He wanted to be selfish and have Reagan for himself just because he liked her. He needed her, craved her, couldn't stop thinking about her.
He couldn't help but hope she’d found her way inside his office again as he finally unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Chapter Seventeen
“Baby girl!”
Reagan couldn't resist a smile as she melted into Grant’s embrace. “God, I needed this,” she mumbled into his neck. He held her so tightly that her feet dangled a few inches above the asphalt.
“I get to hog you for weeks this time,” he said as he set her back on her feet.
She laughed and popped the trunk of her car so he could get her suitcase out of it. “I need a break from school, that’s for sure.”
“How are your friends?”
“Oh, I saw them yesterday. We had a small Christmas for the three of us.” She fingered the scarf she wore as she climbed the stairs with her brother. “Davis got me this scarf, and Luna gave me this pair of earrings she made.”
He glanced over at her and smiled at how happy she looked. “And your finals?”
She didn't answer him at first, merely followed him into the apartment and took off her jacket and scarf. It was so much the same that tears came to her eyes. “I did fine, I’m sure. I just had to get the hell out of Dodge after that last one.”
Grant set her bag down and wrapped her up in his arms again. “Are you really okay?”
Reagan sighed. “I promise. It’s so bittersweet being there, you know? I want to go, to learn, to get my degree and my dream job. It’s just that when I come home, I realize how much I miss you and this place.”
He nodded and kissed her head. “It’s normal, I’m sure. I mean, I can’t be sure, but I assume it must be similar for other freshmen.”
“Well, Luna assures me she felt the same way.” She pulled away to sit on the couch and he followed her. “Davis couldn't wait to go, but that’s because he doesn’t get along with his family.”
“Isn’t he rich?”
“Yes.” She raised a brow. “Why?”
He scratched his chin and looked toward the kitchen. “No reason.”
“Seriously, he loves Luna to pieces. He’s never given the slightest hint that it’s any other way.” She gave him a sidelong glance, knowing what he was thinking.
“As your big brother and legal guardian, I can only hope to see you well taken care of.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can take care of myself, you know.”
“That’s something we can agree on.” He patted her knee. “What do you want to do about dinner?”
“Can we just stay in? I’ll even make dinner if you don’t make me leave again.”
He laughed at the pleading look on her face. “I’ll order pizza.”
“Yes.” She nodded at the idea of their favorite local pizza place. “I miss good pizza, too.”
“Probably more than you miss me,” he said as he got up.
“It’s a toss up.”
He shot her a look as he reached for his phone on the table. “Extra cheese?”
“It’s an extra cheese kind of day,” she agreed with a nod.
Reagan left the living room while Grant placed the call. She wanted to change into sweats and take a minute to herself. She was more than a little surprised to discover that she regretted not giving in to the temptation to hide in Hudson’s office until the end of the school day. She missed him now that she was home, and she found that to be ridiculous. She thought she wanted distance and instead she felt . . . separated. She’d decided to unblock his number and read his texts, but not until bedtime. She didn't want anything to mar her time with Grant.
She went back out to the living room in sweatpants and a ponytail, feeling more at ease than she had in a long time. She and Grant joked around the way they always had while they ate their favorite pizza. She fell asleep on his shoulder while they were watching a home renovation show on TV. Grant carried her to her room and put her to bed without Reagan even realizing it.
She woke late the next morning, surprised to find that she couldn't remember going to bed. She made her way to the living room and found a note on the coffee table from Grant. She picked up the remote control
he’d left on top of it and read about how he would see her after work and that he’d stocked the fridge and pantry for her.
She found her favorite cereal and poured a bowl as she flipped through her phone. Remembering her plans, she scrolled to Hudson’s phone number in her contacts and tapped the button to unblock it. She then navigated to her messages and pulled up the thread that had started on Saturday morning.
He’d really laid himself out for her. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline as she read that his father was a senator. She’d had no idea. Apparently, he came from a wealthy family, as well. If she’d learned anything from her friendship with Davis it was that a well-connected family often put a ton of pressure on their children, making them feel unworthy. Davis had told her how he was expected to go into the family business whether he liked it or not, and the consequences if he didn’t were to have his finances cut off and for his parents to stop speaking to him. As much as they bothered him, he still loved them and didn't want to be cut off from them. Reagan read further from Hudson about how his father had appeared on his doorstep the weekend she was supposed to come over. He was angry and reminded about how much his father’s approval was determined by what he did with his life and every move he made. His father thought teaching wasn’t an acceptable occupation for someone in their family, and that constantly weighed on Hudson.
She found herself feeling sorry for him, and that could be dangerous. She understood why he wouldn't tell her these things the first time they were together; after all, she basically ambushed him and begged him to fuck her. That was supposed to be the only time they ever saw each other. The second time they were together, though. That was his chance. Instead of kicking her out of his office and calling her a tart, he should have explained things. He could have given her some kind of explanation, anything at all.
There were more messages about how he missed her and wanted to work toward a relationship with her. He wanted to continue being careful until the end of the school year because there was still the risk of termination for him if they were caught together. She sighed and got up with her bowl, rinsing it out and putting it in the dishwasher. She sat on the couch with her phone in her hand, trying to decide what to do. No wonder he’d been annoyed with her the day before. He poured his heart out in those messages and she’d never responded. She wondered if she should reply to his texts or call him.