Give In

by Layla Frost

  She sighed and stared at her laptop. “I already told you—”

  “It’s not my business. Now, answer me.”

  “We’re so not talking about this,” she muttered.

  I got up from my desk and moved to stand in front of her, biting out the question that tasted bitter in my mouth. “Did you fuck him?”

  Her eyes widened again as she looked up at me. Her pulse was visible at her collarbone, and I wanted nothing more than to taste the skin there.

  Preferably while I was buried deep inside of her.

  She scowled. “That’s not—”

  “It’s a simple question.”

  “That might be, but it still isn’t any of your—”

  Putting my hands on the armrests of her chair, I leaned down so our faces were close. “Answer the damn question.”

  “No! Okay? No, we haven’t yet.”

  I stood, her answer appeasing me until the ‘yet’ sank in. “Yet?”

  She waved her hand around. “You’re doing that thing where you sound calm, but I can feel that you aren’t. How does no one else notice that?”

  “Because no one else is made for me the way you are. What do you mean ‘yet’?

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Yet. As in, you’ve yet to explain why you’re implying you’ll fuck him in the future.”

  “I know what yet means,” she snapped. “What did you mean by the other part?”

  “You’re mine. I’m going to fuck you the way I like, you’ll love it and beg for more, and you’ll listen to me without putting up a damn fight. And, above all else, Eden, you’re going to trust me.”

  “That’s not happening.” Snatching up her bag, she bolted out of her chair at the same time I stepped forward. Her body collided with mine, her soft gasp travelling straight to my hardening cock.

  I wrapped my arm around her waist to keep her from falling. Her hands landed on my chest, but she didn’t push. Instead, she looked up at me, her eyes huge and lips parted. Her short, shallow breaths pressed her tits against me.

  Her lids lowered slightly.

  The tip of her tongue darted out to touch her full lips.

  Her fingers twitched, as if to fist my shirt.

  She stood taller, swayed closer, and lifted her face toward me.

  Each change was small. Automatic. A silent invitation I doubted she knew she was extending.

  One I couldn’t wait to accept.

  Before I could, a loud, impatient knocking broke the moment.

  “Ignore it,” I growled, but I knew it was too late.

  Eden’s body might as well have been concrete in my arms. Her hands at my chest shoved, and the mask was back, cooling the heat and smothering her fire.

  Looking anywhere but me, she twisted out of my hold and whispered, “No. I need to get to class.”

  “Is no your favorite word, Miss Wilder?”

  “Only when I’m the one using it.”

  The knocking started up again, more impatient than before.

  “Don’t move,” I ordered.

  Opening the door, I saw two of my seniors waiting. I was surprised it was only two. There was usually a third one who stuck to them, creating a tripod.

  I’d barely finished my thought when the third Stooge rounded the corner, glaring at her friends before seeing me and softening her features.

  “Caine,” the ringleader, Melinda, started, “we were hoping to talk with you about maybe doing some extra credit.”

  Wasting my time was insulting enough. Wasting time I could be spending with Eden was infuriating.

  Crossing my arms, I stood in the doorway—blocking their line of vision and Eden’s path of escape. “If the three of you have paid attention during my class this year, you know my rules regarding office hours are strictly enforced. All meeting requests are to be sent and scheduled.”

  “We just thought…” she trailed off, tilting her head toward her friends.

  I had no doubt what they thought. It was the same thought a slew of students had each semester—especially those approaching graduation. Fueled by a perceived mutual interest, a higher grade, or just the challenge, the outcome was always the same.

  Rejection.

  I’d always been kind but firm, ensuring I’d killed the fantasy they’d formed. Rarely, a student’s pride had made them stupid, and I’d been forced to involve Peters and the school to protect myself.

  Never, in all my years of teaching, had I been tempted to sleep with a student.

  Not until Eden strolled in and fucked shit up.

  Fucked me up worse than I already was.

  Knowing their interruption had given Eden time to rebuild her walls and reposition her mask pissed me off worse than their conniving.

  “None of you could handle any extra added to your workload. Considering one of you is failing my class, one is skating the line, and one has managed to be average,” I said, my tone making it clear that wasn’t an achievement, “you can’t handle what you have now.”

  “Maybe we can get some tutoring,” the latecomer to the group whispered in a nasally purr that I was betting she thought was sexy.

  “Good idea.” Their overconfident smiles fell, crashing and burning when I added, “I’ll send Ben Peters an email and have him get you the contact information for some tutors. In the meantime, I’m in the middle of a scheduled meeting—”

  “Actually,” Eden interrupted, pulling the door fully open and wedging herself out, “our time is up, so don’t let me stop you.” Turning to face me, she took a few steps backward into the hall and held up her closed laptop. “Today was so… insightful, I doubt we’ll need any more of these meetings. That should free up some space in your schedule.” Her gaze skittered across the seniors before returning to me, a smirk curling her lips. “Not a lot, but your meetings never last long.”

  Without another word, she turned and walked down the hallway, her hips swaying.

  “Does this mean we can get some extra help, Caine?” one of the three asked. I wasn’t sure which since my focus was locked on Eden’s ass.

  She’s earned worse than my palm for leaving me to deal with this shit.

  I can’t wait.

  *******

  Eden

  “Quit.”

  I wish I could.

  The night had been shit. Actually, most nights were. I’d known Hank’s silence after our drama wouldn’t last. Rather than being head bouncer, he’d become head asshole. If no one was around to call him on it, he’d begun purposefully turning a blind eye to handsy customers.

  Maybe it was the winter weather giving everyone cabin fever. Or the approaching holidays stressing them out.

  Or maybe it was just that people sucked and they were all pieces of shit.

  Whatever the reason, work had gone downhill fast, each night bringing stress and an undercurrent of apprehension.

  In that one shift, I’d already thought about quitting a dozen times, but I knew better than to vocalize that to Professor Caine. If I showed even a hairline fracture in my resolve, he’d work at it until I bent.

  Until I broke.

  Redressing after a heretofore silent dance, I forced a laugh at his order. “Sure. And while I’m at it, I’ll quit school. And living indoors. Oh, and eating.”

  He muttered something—likely about my attitude and impending red ass—but I didn’t stick around to talk. Not because I was anxious to head back into the crowded club, but because if he asked me to leave, I would. I was too tired to pretend I didn’t want to.

  When I reached the main room, I took a stool at a cluster of tables occupied by a bachelor party. I chatted and flirted on autopilot, but half my focus was on Professor Caine.

  More specifically, that he hadn’t left.

  Instead, he’d taken a spot at the bar with his back to the stage and his body aimed toward mine.

  I did my best to ignore him, but my focus drifted, accidentally catching his eyes.

  Their rawness stole
my breath.

  “Mandi,” someone called, breaking the moment and rescuing me from midnight skies before I got lost in their brewing storm.

  I jolted and looked at Lita.

  “Dance in room three,” she called.

  I didn’t have to check if Professor Caine was looking at me. I could feel it. The hairs on the back of my neck stood and my skin heated with the intensity of his stare.

  Brushing-off the nagging unease and general bullshit of the night, I squared my shoulders and walked into room three.

  And then I immediately turned and stormed out.

  “Get him out of here now,” I hissed at the nearest bouncer, my stomach revolting and my Bullshit-Meter going so far into the red, it snapped. As did my temper.

  Two of the bouncers took one look at me before hustling into the room to remove the creep.

  Thank God Hank isn’t working. He’d probably find a way to take the guy’s side.

  My eyes scanned the room for Charlie, but he must’ve already seen me because he was barreling his way through.

  He hadn’t even reached me when he asked, “What happened?”

  “I went in but he had it out.”

  “Shit,” he bit out. Anger twisted his features as he looked over my head and nodded at someone.

  One of the other bouncers stormed past, cracking his neck muscles as he went.

  I knew the creep was about to get his ass handed to him, and I couldn’t drum up even a solitary fuck. He deserved it.

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I tried not to shiver. “I’m done for the night.” I paused for a moment before impulsively adding, “And tomorrow.”

  Charlie’s expression softened, worry creasing his forehead. “Go home. Take tomorrow off. Ted and I are bringing in new security. We’ll get it straightened out. See you Friday.”

  “Yeah, see you,” I said, though my voice didn’t hold the reassurance I’d been going for.

  I expected to see Professor Caine standing close, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t at the bar, either. I wondered when he’d left and hoped it was in the small window of time before the creep show.

  He’d already been set on convincing me to quit, and that night was the perfect Exhibit A to win his case.

  Feeling claustrophobic, my motions were frantic as I scrubbed my skin raw with makeup wipes. I hurriedly changed into my regular clothes before practically dragging two bouncers outside with me. We almost reached my car when their body language changed.

  It was the dangerous vibe that hit me hardest—and it wasn’t coming from them.

  Peering around one of them, I saw Professor Caine’s car parked horizontally behind mine. He was leaning against the side of it, his arms crossed.

  I patted the bouncer’s arm. “It’s fine, I know him.”

  “I know,” he grunted, lifting his chin at Damien in a silent greeting I didn’t understand and was too tired to deal with right then.

  “Okay then,” I muttered. “Thanks.”

  Both bouncers gave me a similar silent chin lift before heading inside.

  And leaving me outside with the biggest threat.

  “My house,” he bit out.

  Too exhausted—mentally and physically—to be anything but bluntly honest, I nodded. “Please.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  * * *

  Sexual Manipulation

  Damien

  I was losing my patience. My temper.

  My fucking mind.

  I’d wanted Eden to quit for mostly selfish reasons. But her unmasked expression when she’d come out of the room had shown she was done.

  She needed to be done.

  Because beyond the anger and disgust had been fear. Real fear.

  And no one was allowed to scare my depraved angel but me.

  Which was why the bouncers had carried the bastard outside, but it’d been me who’d slammed him against the building. Me who’d bounced his head against the hard brick until he’d blubbered and begged. And me who’d dropped him to a heap on the hard pavement before kicking his kidney until he’d piss blood.

  That didn’t even cover whatever the bouncers had done after I’d walked away.

  Driving behind Eden, my anger didn’t wane.

  It grew.

  I was pissed about the night. I was pissed about whatever had led her to working in a strip club and living in a slum apartment.

  And I was pissed at her. At the small, relieved smile she’d given me when she’d seen me near her car. At the whispered ‘please’ she’d given me when I’d told her we were going to my house.

  When we reached my place, she pulled into the driveway, likely not considering the repercussions of it. I did, however, consider them. And I liked them. Which was why I pulled in after her, blocking her car.

  Eden climbed out of the piece of shit and walked to me. “Okay, before you say anything—”

  “Inside.” I placed my hand on her lower back.

  “Okay, but—”

  “Eden, we’ll talk inside.”

  “Fine,” she sighed, crossing her arms but not moving from my touch.

  Even when I pushed further by sliding my hand to her hip and pulling her closer, she didn’t step away.

  No, she leaned into me instinctively, not even seeming to notice she was doing it.

  Her small smile.

  Her whispered ‘please’.

  The way she shifted closer.

  None of it warmed my cold heart or eased my twisted soul.

  If anything, they made me angrier because they were reminders of what she was trying to take away from me.

  And I’d be damned if I let that happen.

  *******

  Eden

  As soon as we stepped foot inside, I turned toward Damien. “You can’t try to tell me what to do all the time.”

  “I know,” he replied, his tone withdrawn and his body language distant.

  “I have bills,” I added, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “I know,” he repeated, starting up the stairs.

  Without thinking, I followed so I could continue spewing the justifications he wasn’t asking for. “I can’t just quit my job with no other options.”

  “I know,” he said yet again as he walked into his bedroom.

  Last time I was there, I was too tired to even lift my head. Since I was marginally more awake, I was able to actually see the room.

  His bed was at least three times larger than my own. If I had one that size, I’d sprawl out in the middle and sleep easy knowing it was unlikely I’d roll to the floor—something that happened far too often in my tiny twin.

  But only the right side of his bed looked slept in—the dark blue comforter rumpled and the pillows off-kilter.

  I averted my gaze quickly, the knowledge of what side he slept on seeming too intimate. Which, honestly, was stupid considering I’d been in that bed with him before.

  My eyes skimmed across the dark wood dressers and nightstands. Like downstairs, various books were strewn about. Some were stacked, while others were left opened and placed face down to hold his spot.

  My eye twitched as I thought of the damage he was doing to their spines.

  Movement grabbed my attention, and I turned back to watch him sit on the edge of his bed and run his fingers through his hair.

  “I can’t just quit,” I said, firm and convincing.

  But which one of us am I trying to convince?

  Leaning forward, his elbows rested on his knees and his hands hung between his spread legs. His head was bent, and he didn’t look up when he said, “I know.”

  “If you know, then why did you try to tell me what to do?”

  “I didn’t.”

  My brows lowered. “You did.”

  “I didn’t try to tell you. There was no trying. I did tell you.” Only his head moved as he looked to the side, meeting my gaze. His voice was deceptively calm as he continued. “That you were mine. That no one sees what’s mine but me.”

 
A shiver ran down my spine—but not from fear.

  I wished it was fear that filled me at his possessive claim. Fear seemed right. Normal.

  Volcanic levels of heat and dizzying desire were not.

  Ignoring my reaction to him, I paced in front of where he sat. “You can’t just declare things and expect them to be true. That isn’t how the world works.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Eden.” Midnight blue eyes bore into me. “In my world, that’s exactly how it works.”

  I want to be in your world.

  Even just for the night.

  I got to play pretend before. One more night wouldn’t hurt.

  I dismissed the thoughts almost before they formed. Because it wouldn’t be pretending, and it wouldn’t be one night.

  I’d get lost in his world.

  And I’d never want to be found.

  I couldn’t give in. I shouldn’t want to. It was wrong to want something so… well, wrong.

  Fueled by disappointment or self-disgust—or maybe both—my tone was flippant when I shot back, “Good for you and your world. In the real world, there are things called bills and rent and food. Things that require money. That means working.”

  “No. To you, in your world, that means taking your clothes off.”

  My hands went to my hips as my temper snapped. “You know what? You and your high horse can go fuck each other. There’s nothing wrong with being a stripper, you judgmental asshole.”

  “I never said there was.” I opened my mouth, but he continued before I could speak. “There’s something wrong with you being a stripper.”

  “But you’d be okay with me starving? Or dropping out because I can’t afford tuition and supplies? While I’m catering my life to what you find right and wrong, would it be more to your liking if I moved back into my previous cheaper apartment? If you think the one I’m in now is bad, you should’ve seen the others.” I shuddered, and not for effect. “Scholarships and financial aid only go so far. I don’t have a safety net. I don’t have a backup plan. No one is swooping in to save me if my car breaks down or I get sick or my rent increases. I can’t just call Mommy and Daddy to ask for extra spending money since my parents are…” I caught myself before I said too much, instead finishing with a half-lie, “dead.”