Claimed: The Complete Short Romance Series

by Nichole Rose

  "What if he's not...a terrible person?" I feel like I'm picking my way through a minefield trying to choose my words carefully. I don't want her to feel like I'm attacking her or taking his side because she has every right to be upset with him. "Maybe he's just..."

  "Just what?" Her spoon drags across the side of her bowl.

  "Trying to help?"

  Her eyes widen and then narrow on me. "Maybe, but that doesn't excuse him being so mean. I thought all the rumors were just stories people told when he didn't love their work, you know? But they aren't. He really is a dictator with impossible expectations. Why? Did you hear something? Oh my gosh!" she gasps, her mouth popping open. Her gaze turns slightly horrified. "Please tell me you didn't confront him."

  "What?" I blink, my heart pounding. "No, I just...I just wonder if maybe he's trying to help the best way he knows how. You said he didn't write anymore. I imagine helping writers like you follow their dreams when he's no longer able to follow his own is hard for him."

  "I guess so." She eyes me suspiciously. "You think I'm being too hard on him?"

  "I think you have a right to feel the way you do about him," I say carefully, "but I also think maybe the two of you are after the same goal. You took his class to become a stronger writer. He's trying to make you one, even if his methods are harsh. You always believe the best in everyone, even when they don't deserve it. Why not now? If he's trying...maybe you should too."

  "I guess so." She takes a bite of her cereal, chewing thoughtfully. "I don't hate him," she says. "I honestly feel a little bad for him. He's so intimidating that no one really tries to talk to him. He's always by himself on campus. I guess he intimidates me a little bit, too."

  "How so?" I cross to the sink to fill a pitcher with water to refill Meeko's bowl. Kennedy may be shy and soft-hearted, but she doesn't intimidate easily, especially when something matters to her as much as writing does.

  "Um...because he's amazing?" she says, looking at me like I'm crazy as I fill Meeko's bowl. "His books still top bestseller lists and it's been eight years since he published his last one. He won a freaking Pulitzer! He could pretty much teach at any school in the world."

  "Really?" Damn. I seriously need to Google my man because I did not know any of this. He never really talks about his accomplishments. I think he shies away from it because the subject is still painful to him.

  Which honestly makes me love him a little more because he wants so badly to keep people like Kennedy from going through the same things he did. He just doesn't know how to let his guard down and connect with them. I think he's afraid to get too close to anyone after what happened.

  Except for me. For some reason, he let me in. He loves me.

  Kennedy bobs her head in an excited nod. "He's one of the best authors born in the last century. And he's done it all without using his connections to get him to the top. No one even knew he was from the Kingston family until he sued his agent and publisher."

  "Are you..." I swallow back bile as a chilling fear strikes. "Do you have a crush on him?"

  "God no. Gross." She shudders, her face paling slightly. "I guess a lot of people find him good looking. He is handsome. But he is definitely not my type."

  I exhale a relieved breath, replacing the water pitcher. "Wait. Since when did you have a type? You've never even gone on a date!"

  She shrugs, her cheeks turning pink. "I don't know. Maybe I've always had a type and haven't ever dated because no one ever checked the boxes before now."

  "Kennedy Thorne," I gasp, shocked. "Did you meet someone?"

  "Yes. I mean no." She buries her face in her hands and groans. "Maybe I saw someone who caught my eye last night?" She peeks at me over her hands, her cheeks blazing red. "He's so damn beautiful, but I doubt he even noticed me."

  "Last night? At Sophie's rehearsal dinner?" I ask, still shocked. My sister has never noticed a man before. Ever. We've been two peas in a pod on that front. I guess no one ever caught my eye before now either. But Jared isn't just anyone. He's...God, I think he's the only one.

  "Maybe," she mumbles and then shovels a bite of cereal into her mouth before I can push for more details. The look in her green eyes—as if she's confused or maybe feels a little vulnerable—convinces me to drop the subject. She'll talk when she's ready.

  "Maybe I have a type too," I confess. Is there even a type that describes Jared? He's in a category all on his own, I think. Intelligent, sexy as sin, charming, filthy. He's…my daddy. A little thrill goes through me as soon as I think the word. He's my Prince Charming and my autocratic King. My obsession and my happy place. He's everything I never knew I wanted, and everything I desperately want to keep.

  No one has ever made me feel safer to explore and be myself. With him, I don't feel like I have to hold part of myself back or hide pieces of me from him. I can be who I am and say what I think. He casts no judgement. He doesn't want me to fit into some mold. He just wants…me.

  I love him, so much that the mere thought of losing him sends ice into my veins and mangles my heart in my chest. Last night with him was magical, like I was living a fairytale again. Only, the magic didn't unravel at midnight. The handsome prince is really mine this time. And I don't ever have to give him back.

  So why does my stomach keep twisting in knots?

  I don't have to think hard to land on the answer to that question. Kennedy. Keeping the truth from her feels wrong. Hiding how I feel about Jared is wrong. He isn't a dirty secret, but the man I want to marry. The man I love.

  I open my mouth to tell Kennedy the truth…but then I snap it closed again. Maybe I should talk to Jared first. Telling people about our relationship should be a joint decision. Especially when he's the one at risk here. While I don't believe Kennedy would ever tell a soul about us, I don't want to be the thing that destroys everything he's worked so hard for in his life, not when he's already been betrayed by the people he trusted.

  If the choice is between keeping our relationship secret until I graduate this spring or ruining his career...well, there is no choice, is there? I will never do anything to hurt him. Just like I know he would never do anything to hurt me.

  I can't keep it from Kennedy though. I just…can't.

  "You okay?" Kennedy asks.

  "Yeah, fine," I say, forcing a smile. "Just tired. I'm going to get a shower."

  "Okay. I'll see you"—her brows furrow—"When will I see you again?"

  Her question sends a pang through me. We've both been so busy lately that we've barely had any sister time together. She's my best friend and I miss her like crazy.

  "Dinner tonight?" I suggest. "What time is the wedding tomorrow? If you don't have to leave too early, we can hang out and watch movies after."

  "I have to leave here by like six in the morning so we can do hair and makeup at nine."

  "Then we'll hang out tonight and go to bed early," I promise.

  "Okay," she says, beaming at me.

  Chapter Eight

  King

  "Kingston," Dean Hawkins says, rising halfway out of his seat to lean across the desk with his hand extended toward me. "It's good to see you."

  "You as well," I murmur politely, shaking his hand. "How is your wife?"

  His lined face breaks into a grin as he lowers himself back down into his chair. "Still running circles around all of us, grandbabies included." He chuckles, his dark eyes alight with affection. He's a family man, unabashedly in love with his wife of four decades. "Have a seat."

  I take the proffered chair, getting comfortable. Hawkins isn't necessarily a friend, but he is someone I respect. He's been in education for longer than I've been alive. He's good at what he does. Degrees and awards litter his walls, hanging in testament to his longevity and regard. He can be a hard ass, but he's well-liked by staff and students alike.

  "I have to confess; I was surprised when Susan told me you'd requested to see me this morning. I can count on one hand the times you've come to me with problems," he says, leanin
g back in his chair. He spears me with an inquisitive look, his expression somber. "Are you having issues with another student?"

  I grimace at the reminder of the last time I came to him with an issue, a new student who thought leaving her panties in my desk would give me incentive to pass her. It didn't. She couldn't write, certainly not the erotic fiction she kept turning in.

  There have been a handful of girls like her before, those who take my class, hoping to catch my eye. They usually give up hoping and drop my course halfway through the term. Until Caroline, I never even considered sleeping with a student, especially not one of the fresh-faced teenagers in my courses. Caroline is different for a million reasons...which is exactly why I'm here.

  "I actually came to let you know that this semester will be my last."

  Hawkins' dark eyes widen. "You're writing again?"

  "A bit." I hesitate. He's one of the few people I trust, and I already know he isn't going to like what I have to say. But I won't lie to him. I won't lie about Caroline. "I met someone."

  "Oh. Well, then." He smiles, seemingly pleased, if a bit surprised. He's heard the rumors that swirl about me not dating. "Perhaps congratulations of a different sort are in order?"

  "Not yet. Maybe soon." God, I hope she's pregnant and wearing my ring soon. I won't hide the way I feel about her. Nor will I hide that she's mine. She deserves to be shown off, not hidden away. She deserves a man—a daddy—who makes her feel like the princess she is, not like a dirty secret.

  "That's the other part of the reason I'm here," I say. My course was set before I ever set foot in this office today, but losing this man's regard isn't something I'm going to enjoy. "The woman in question is a student here. Not one of mine," I add when his face immediately falls into a stern mask of disapproval. "She's never been one of my students. However, her sister is.

  "I realize that distinction doesn't matter much from an ethical standpoint, but I would rather you have the whole truth of the matter from me than to hear it from someone else." I have nothing to hide when it comes to her. I won't let anyone make what's between the two of us somehow less than it is. Claiming Caroline wasn't on my radar before the Masquerade Ball, but I've thought of nothing else since. Certainly not since I made her mine last night.

  "I see," Hawkins says, leaning forward in his chair to plant his elbows on his desk. He steeples his index fingers together, staring at me over the top of them. "I won't pretend that I approve of your relationship with a student because I don't. But our non-fraternization policy applies to faculty member relationships with students in their respective departments. If you have no academic say over her, your relationship is technically permissible, though highly inadvisable."

  "She's a science major. A senior."

  The disapproving twist to his lips doesn't diminish. Nor does the disappointed gleam in his eyes. I didn't expect they would. I didn't come here for his approval or acceptance. I came to claim my girl. Caroline is my princess, my muse, my soul. It's my job as her daddy to ensure she's taken care of. If anyone has anything negative to say about our relationship, they can say it to me. She won't be treated poorly because of our relationship. I'll destroy anyone who thinks to try.

  "I'm prepared to resign today, if that's what you would request of me."

  He stares at me for a full minute, not speaking. And then, "You're willing to walk away from your career here for this girl?"

  "Without hesitation."

  "But that's not what you want," he guesses.

  "She's worth whatever censure comes my way…but I would like to finish out this semester." I blow out a breath. "I have a few wrongs I'd like to make right before I go."

  "And the sister? You think you can remain impartial?"

  "I'm prepared to request a second opinion on her work," I say. "You should know, she's one of the most gifted students I've taught. I've written her a recommendation for the Braxton Prize."

  His eyebrows climb toward his receding hairline. "That's high praise from you," he murmurs.

  "The praise isn't unwarranted," I assure him, and then grimace. "To be quite frank, I've been tough on her. She rises to the challenge each time, but she may very well tell me to go to hell with my recommendation."

  "You've never recommended a student for the Prize," he says, choosing his words carefully. "The fact that the first student you intend to recommend is the sister of the student you're dating could be problematic for you."

  "Her work will stand on its own merit." There's no question of that. People may whisper, but it won't be about the quality of her work. If they have doubts, let them cast them on me. "I've weathered worse."

  Hawkins gives me a wry grin, silently acknowledging my point. He's well aware of what students say about me and my methods. Like I said, he can be a hard ass too. His grin slips. "I'll give you the remainder of the semester, but the sister's work is to be reviewed by a tenured professor," he says. "And I reserve the right to change my mind if I feel it necessary."

  "Fair enough." It's more than I expected. Hell, it's probably more than I deserve. "I won't take up any more of your time," I say, climbing to my feet. "I appreciate you for seeing me."

  "What's her name?"

  "Caroline Thorne."

  "Ah," he says. His lips twitch.

  "You're familiar with her." It's not a question.

  "Indeed," he says, his expression amused. "She's graced me with her presence a few times over the years."

  I bite back a grin, pride welling in my chest. I can just imagine what kind of mischief she's caused for Hawkins over the years. I can't fucking wait to be the one who supports and loves her while she fights for what she believes in.

  "For what it's worth," he says as I head toward the door, "I'm relieved to hear she's got you writing again."

  "Me too."

  "Come in," I call, tossing my pen down with a grin. My fingers are stained with ink for the first time in years. Page after page has poured out. I don't know if anyone else will think it's any good, but I love everything about it because it's mine…and Caroline's. She's a never-ending source of inspiration.

  I lean back in my chair, folding my hands together behind my head. Anticipation coils tight in my stomach and my heart beats double time.

  The door to my office creaks open. Caroline steps over the threshold.

  My dick instantly turns to steel in my pants. She looks beautiful. Her red hair tumbles down her back in waves and her cheeks are pink from the chilly fall air. Despite the recent drop in temperature, she's dressed in a thin t-shirt with a long plaid flannel open over top of it. She's paired it with a black skirt that ends a couple inches above her knees and ballet flats.

  She stands there for just a minute, looking at me. Her sooty lashes flutter over her dark eyes. I don't miss the way her nipples harden, pressing against her shirt. Or the way she shivers. My princess is thinking about last night. What we did, the things we said…

  Daddy. Daddy, please!

  This beautiful princess has no idea what she's unleashed. How much I crave. How deep I ache. Love isn't an adequate descriptor. Obsession isn't a fair enough classification.

  She's so goddamn mine, my heart aches just looking at her.

  "You're a sight for sore eyes, princess."

  She flashes an impish smile at me, pulling the door closed behind her. "I missed you today."

  "Yeah?" My grin widens. "Why don't you come show me how much, sweet baby?"

  She sways toward me, her tits jiggling and her hips rolling in a seductive rhythm. Her gaze runs all over me, burning hot with intention. I push my chair back from my desk, spreading my legs slightly as my dick grows even harder.

  She stops less than a foot away, licking her lips and eyeing my cock, looking desire dazed and love drunk. I hope she always looks at me this way, with wonder and trust mingling in her eyes, turning them to obsidian flame. She's part innocent princess, part seductive goddess.

  "You're too beautiful for your own good, you know that?"
I murmur, reaching out to snag her hand. I draw her toward me, electricity sparking where my skin meets hers. "One look at you and I forget other people even exist."

  "Me too," she whispers.

  I draw her toward me until she's standing right in front of me, and then I gently tap her hip, urging her to turn around to face my desk. I position her with her hands on the edge of it, her ass tilted toward me, and then wrap one hand around her knee, urging her to spread her legs for me.

  "What are you doing?" she asks, amusement in her voice. She doesn't try to stop me as I glide my hand up her thigh, pulling her skirt up as I go.

  "Making sure you wrapped daddy's present in a pretty pair of panties." She did. They're pink satin and lace, somehow innocent and erotic at the same time.

  "Oh," she gasps when I run a finger across the seam of them.

  She's already wet and ready for me. I know she has to be sore though. Despite trying to be gentle with her, I was rough…rougher than I intended to be, at any rate. She felt too good, looked to good, sounded too good.

  Daddy. Daddy, please!

  I groan, my dick aching for release. One little twitch of my finger and her panties are pulled to the side, her slit and little pink asshole peeking out from between her thick thighs. Her juices glisten on her lower lips. My mouth waters at the sight.

  "You want me again."

  "I always want you, daddy," she moans.

  I climb to my feet, seaming my body to her back. She presses against me and moans again. Brushing her hair out of the way, I kiss a hot trail up her neck to her ear, undoing my pants at the same time. The soft hiss of the zipper seems unnaturally loud in the quiet room. We definitely shouldn't be doing this here, but that's not going to stop me. My princess needs me.

  "Can you be quiet for daddy, princess?" I ask, biting into the shell of her ear and then soothing the bite with a swipe of my tongue.

  "Daddy," she moans, trembling beneath me.

  "Shh. We don't want anyone to hear daddy taking this little princess cunt, do we?" I remind her, pulling my cock out.