Give In

by Layla Frost

  Damn.

  During the hellish five minutes with the dick-shrinking blonde, she’d whispered an invitation to meet outside of work. She’d earnestly batted her lashes as she’d told me her hard-ass bosses would fire her if they found out, but she’d risk it for me.

  I’d stored that info away.

  And then I’d used it.

  “Anyway,” Eden continued quietly, “sorry about... this.” Turning quickly, she practically sprinted up to her seat as the room began to fill.

  Crosby walked in and headed straight for her.

  Jealousy and anger clutched at me as I stared at her profile, watching as she tilted her head back to smile at him, her earlier tension seeming to fade away.

  I wanted to do that for her.

  Let her be.

  Don’t make her fucked-up, too.

  Move on.

  Surging to my feet, I ignored common sense and gave in a little more.

  “Miss Wilder,” I called, savoring the way her wide eyes shot to me, her full lips parting and a light blush spreading up her chest and across her cheeks. “Head to my office in five minutes.” I held her eyes for a moment more before looking at another student. “Mr. Campbell, since you were out last class, I’ll see you in twenty. The rest of you, use this time to work on your papers.”

  *******

  Eden

  Yes!

  Finding out I was going to get my meeting with Professor Caine was exactly what I’d needed to hear.

  When I’d gone into work the night before, Charlie and Ted had been waiting for me. They’d told me about receiving a complaint that I’d propositioned a group of customers, and my heart had clenched so tight, I’d thought it would shatter. Tears had instantly filled my eyes as my mind had rushed to figure out what I would do without a job.

  Thankfully, because they knew me, my job had been safe…

  For then.

  I’d gone home that night and sat in bed, sleep eluding me as my mind had worked through who would lie.

  Maybe one of the other girls had broken the rule, and there’d been some mix-up with the name.

  Maybe one of the girls had gotten pissed at the competition, so they’d had a guy make the call.

  Or maybe my close call was courtesy of my very own torturer. A little payback for the enthusiastic dance.

  I hadn’t intended to say anything to him, but lack of sleep had made me moody and impulsive. I wasn’t saying I necessarily believed his denial, but making unfounded accusations in public had been risky and stupid.

  After a few minutes, I packed my bag and headed to his office. I used the walk to clear my head. By the time I reached his door, we had no past. No Sinners, no dances, no silent treatment.

  He was simply my professor, and my focus was entirely on my paper.

  Nothing else mattered.

  It couldn’t.

  At my quiet knock, he rumbled, “Come in.”

  I opened the door and hesitated.

  Maybe no meeting would’ve been better after all...

  Sitting away from his desk, Professor Caine’s hands were behind his head and his legs were stretched in front of him.

  I’d seen him in the pose so many times, it was impossible not to make the correlation to Sinners.

  Start the music.

  Sway your hips.

  Smile.

  Touch.

  I tamped down my instincts. It would’ve been easier to ignore him if he weren’t so damn attractive. Everything about him was masculine, powerful, and beyond intelligent. He dominated every space, and his office was no exception. The large room seemed tiny and cramped with him in it.

  “Hi,” I muttered, unsure and unnerved.

  God, I hate how he affects me.

  “Miss Wilder—” he started before noises in the hallway interrupted. “Close the door and have a seat.”

  After shutting out the noise, I rigidly sat in the chair in front of his desk. I pulled my bag up onto my lap and fished out my ideas notebook.

  “So, does he know?” Professor Caine asked randomly.

  My brows lowered. “What? Who?”

  “Your boyfriend. Does he know what you do for a living?”

  “Brooks?”

  “Do you have another boyfriend, Miss Wilder?”

  “No, I don’t have any boyfriend. But, no, he doesn’t.”

  “Is Mr. Crosby aware you don’t consider him your boyfriend?” He tsked. “No one likes a tease, Miss Wilder.”

  “That’s—”

  “Speaking of, I owe you this.” Sitting up, he handed me a hundred.

  I knew he wouldn’t let it go.

  In my mind, I took my money, ripped it up, and shoved it down his smug throat.

  In real life, I ignored it. “About my paper—”

  “I’m sure you’ll do your usual competent work.”

  “But I’d really like to discuss—”

  “Why did you think it was me?”

  I’m getting mental whiplash.

  My head tilted. “Pardon?”

  “When you wrongfully accused me of trying to get you fired. Why’d you think it was me?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does. If I’m going to be blamed for something, I think I deserve to know why.”

  “You’re the only person I could think of who hates me that much,” I revealed on a whisper.

  It was barely perceptible, but his jaw clenched. “Why do you think that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I sighed, disappointment stealing my fire. “Anyway, it’s fine. You know what I do, I know you hold the power, blah, blah, blah. I just want to get this semester done. If there’s nothing else, I’ll go back to class.”

  God, I hate him.

  Knowing my raw emotions were written on my face, I ducked my head as if putting my notebook away required all my concentration. I used the moment to find my mask.

  Masks and blank faces. Lies and secrets.

  Nothing in my life is real.

  Nothing but the tangled knot, growing larger and tightening beyond repair.

  When I lifted my head, I saw Professor Caine had moved to lean against the front of his desk, his arms folded across his broad chest. “Christ, Eden, I don’t hate you.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll see you on Monday.” Standing, I turned to leave when he grabbed my wrist.

  His thumb rubbed the sensitive skin there. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “No!” Realizing how loud I’d been, I lowered my voice to a frantic whisper. “No more, please. I just want to get through this semester, be done with your class, and then we’ll never have to see each other again.”

  Still holding my wrist, his grip tightened when I tried to move. “What makes you so sure I hate you?”

  “You’re kidding, right? You work with everyone else, giving them notes and guiding them. But I get nothing. This is the first meeting we’ve had, and it wasn’t even to talk about my paper,” I hissed, shaking my backpack. “You don’t call on me. You won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t exist—”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I was doing it for you?” He ran the hand not holding my wrist through his hair, messing it up more than usual.

  “What? To motivate me? To make this a clichéd afterschool special? Should we start with the inspirational speech or just jump straight to the montage where I change my loose ways to the tune of Maniac?” I snapped my fingers. “No wait. Footloose.”

  “I’d watch the attitude, Miss Wilder.”

  Not heeding his warning, I put extra snark into my tone when I asked, “Or what, Professor Caine?”

  “Surely you know what happens to naughty—”

  I barked out a laugh, harsh and humorless. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  He stood to his full height, the broadness of his body overshadowing my much smaller frame. Rather than their usual indifference, his dark blue eyes grew intense. “I never joke about that, Miss Wilder.” His low voice was severe. �
�I’ll warn you once more, watch the attitude.”

  Maybe it was his tone. Or the change in his stance. Or the way his eyes seemed to flash.

  Likely, it was all three.

  But for whatever reason, an apology danced on the tip of my tongue. My body softened, almost swaying into his.

  Thankfully, a knock sounded, breaking the trance before I did something stupider than I’d already done.

  “Whatever. This is so not worth it,” I grumbled, trying to move again, but his hold tightened almost painfully.

  “And what’s that mean?” His voice was so harsh, his whisper sounded like a roar.

  “It means, I’m dropping this class, even if I have to switch my major,” I whispered back. His hold on my wrist loosened just enough for me to yank my arm free and rush to the door. Throwing it open, I startled Drake Campbell, who was standing in the hall, reeking like weed.

  Holy hell. Just walk around with a bong, it’d be subtler.

  “Goodbye, Professor Caine,” I called over my shoulder. I smiled at Drake before getting the hell out of there.

  Chapter Nine

  * * *

  Oh Captain, My… Asshole

  Eden

  Calm down.

  Be cool and concise.

  Take emotions out of it.

  Despite my plan, the moment my feet touched the threshold of Professor Caine’s office Wednesday morning, I practically shouted, “Why won’t you sign the stupid paper?”

  Professor Caine was standing with his back to me as he shuffled through some folders. At my outburst, he looked over his shoulder. “Hello, Miss Wilder. You missed class Monday. I’ll assume you were sick. Have a seat.”

  “No.” I did, however, step inside and close the door so passersby didn’t get a show. “Why won’t you sign the paper?”

  “Because you aren’t allowed to drop my class.”

  Slowly, I inhaled and exhaled as I tried not to yell. “That’s not for you to decide.”

  Although he hadn’t turned around, I could hear his cocky smirk as he said, “And yet, here you are, needing me to sign the paper.”

  “Why are you being such a dick?”

  At that, he did turn, a warning in his intense gaze. “Language.”

  A warning I ignored. “If you’d sign the damn paper, you wouldn’t have to hear it because we wouldn’t have to see each other.”

  “Is that what you’d like?” he growled, prowling toward me.

  Stalking me, like I was his prey.

  I wasn’t scared, and yet my heart pounded, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Acting on instinct and the unfamiliar rush, I retreated until my back hit the door.

  But he kept coming, stopping only when his body was a breath away from mine. His palms went to the door at either side of my shoulders, his arms caging me. “To never have to see me again?”

  “Yes?” I breathed, his close proximity messing with my head. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “No. And I’m not signing the form.”

  Steeling my spine and voice, I met his intense gaze. “I can still drop the class. Or transfer.”

  “Try it,” he warned, low and gravelly.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. Try to drop my class or transfer schools and see what happens.”

  Frustration filled me, making me shake. “Okay, what’s that mean?”

  “Take my word for it.”

  “Fuck your word.”

  Professor Caine’s eyes darkened, the midnight blue bordering on black. His clipped words were low and controlled as he asked, “What’d I warn you about the attitude, Miss Wilder?”

  “Whatever. I’m gone.”

  I shifted to the side, expecting him to move out of my way.

  He didn’t.

  Quick as a blink, his body was tight to mine. His forearms were flat to the door, and his back must’ve been bent because his eyes were even with mine. I’d have thought he’d be less imposing if he weren’t towering over me.

  I’d have been wrong.

  Eyes wide, I froze.

  In shock, yes. But also because if I moved, the tightness in my lower belly could loosen. The thrumming of my nerve endings could dull.

  The feeling of finally being alive could fade, leaving me as I’d always been. Existing, but not living.

  There was so much sizzle and crackle from just the feel of him, it was a wonder I didn’t burst into flames.

  With his large body so close to mine, I could feel the rumble of his low spoken words when he asked, “What’d I say about threatening to leave, Eden?” Taking a small step back, he stood to his full height and glanced at his watch as though something big and major and intense hadn’t just happened. “I believe you have Political Theory starting soon. You don’t want to be late, I’ve heard that professor can be a real dick.”

  As soon as I had space, I turned and opened the door before rushing from the room like it was on fire.

  Only it wasn’t the room that was burning.

  “Hey, you okay?” Brooks asked as I slammed into my seat a few minutes later.

  “Just running late,” I lied.

  I wasn’t sure how I was. My thoughts were whirling, and I couldn’t seem to grasp even one.

  “What’re you up—” Brooks started just as Professor Caine began his lecture.

  “In conjunction with your papers, I thought we’d spend some time talking about differing governments and how varied they truly are. Like laws. How do the people who make them come into power? Liz?”

  “Um, by voting, birthright, or takeover,” Liz answered from the front row.

  “Takeover?” Caine laughed. “What a nice word for a very not nice thing. It isn’t polite.” His lips curled up in a sneer. “They’re not asking for what they want. They’re taking it. Ruthlessly. When someone decides they want something so badly they’re willing to sacrifice anything, takedown anyone to get it?” His eyes locked on me. “That lack of concern toward the consequences is a powerful thing. A dangerous thing.”

  Holy shit.

  My already jumbled mind launched into overdrive, as though each thought was powered by a pound of sugar and a kilo of coke. They slammed together—a mosh pit in my head.

  Professor Caine moved on, asking other students questions and leaving me wondering if I’d imagined whatever profoundness I’d found in that shared eye contact. Everything about his stance, expression, and tone were nonchalant.

  Except his lips.

  A barely-there smirk curved his mouth, filling me with a sense of foreboding even before he spoke.

  “Let’s talk about my favorite thing. Punishment.” He smirked outright as the class snickered before his gaze crashed with mine. “Miss Wilder… When someone breaks the rules, what’re some punishments that could be doled out?”

  And just like that, I was able to grasp one of my thoughts.

  What a dick.

  *******

  Damien

  Touching her in my office.

  Goading her in class.

  What had I been thinking?

  No, I knew what.

  I’d been thinking about fucking Eden Wilder. About how she’d feel on my cock, how she’d sound as she begged, and how she’d look with a reddened ass.

  There’d been no thought toward my career, her degree, or anything else beyond how I got off pushing her.

  And how badly I wanted to break her.

  Pacing my office, I tried to figure out what the hell I was doing.

  A knock interrupted my obsessing. Ben Peters, the head of my department, popped his head in. “Hey, this a good time?”

  “Of course. Have a seat.” I gestured to the chair in front of my desk before sitting. “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to let you know that Eden Wilder just withdrew her request to drop your class.”

  Thank fuck.

  Keeping my expression bland, I nodded. “Good, I’d hoped she’d reconsider.”

 
“Do you have any idea why she wanted to drop it in the first place?”

  Because I want to fuck her ‘til neither of us can move, so I’m an asshole to her.

  Keeping that to myself, I told him a different truth. “I don’t think she’s finding the course challenging. She’s likely bored.”

  “Understood. She was in my intro class, and her stuff was thought-provoking beyond any first-year student I’ve ever had. That’s why I was surprised to see her drop request. I’m glad she changed her mind. Though the deadline’s passed, Ceaders approached me about her doing some independent studies under him.”

  I’m sure he did.

  Crosby had been right about Ceaders. There’d been rumors about him trading good grades for sex, but nothing had ever been proven.

  Before I could come up with a valid reason to disagree with the placement, Peters did it for me. “If I remember correctly, she had a knack for coming up with abstract yet plausible theories. Which makes me think she’d do better working with theoretic rather than comparative. Would you be willing to oversee her independent studies?”

  There was a long list of reasons to say no, but even knowing them all, I nodded. “I should have time.”

  “Good. Talk it over with her and let me know what she decides.”

  “Will do.”

  We shot the shit for a few minutes before he left me alone to think about the mistake I’d just made.

  *******

  Eden

  “Miss Wilder, I need to see you in my office after class,” Professor Caine said from behind me, as if everything revolved around him.

  Standing near my chair, I dug around my bag for an elusive pen. I didn’t bother to look at him as I shook my head. “Sorry, I have another class to be to then.”

  “When are you available?”

  “My Fridays are pretty hectic.”

  “That’s okay, I’m normally around late if that works better for you.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see his affable smile. His offer to see me outside of his usual office hours sounded considerate and magnanimous. But I could see his smirk and hear his implication.

  What’s that saying about turnabout being fair play?