Page 105 of Almost Ravaged

Chapter thirty-seven

Mercer

Ipull the door open with more force than necessary. It’s unfortunate, but the majority of my mental bandwidth is being used to hold back the urge to choreograph an erotic fantasy featuring my graduate assistant on her knees underneath my desk.

“Dean Stalworth.” Shock and a niggle of dread coalesce behind my sternum at the sight of the older man outside my office. He’s wearing his usual scowl, but it’s unlikely it has anything to do with me. “Did we have an appointment I forgot about?”

“No, no.” He peers over his glasses, looking me directly in the eye. “I was hoping to get on your calendar so we could discuss the Harry situation. Figured arranging in person would be easier than via email.” He gives me a knowing look.

Ah. Maybe I wasn’t the only one caught off guard by the new head of the department. I suspected as much, but it’s reassuring to know the dean is on the right side of this situation.

It makes sense now, why he’s standing at my door. All Holt University correspondence can be intercepted or subpoenaed in a court of law, and our ITdepartment uses filters and firewalls not only to ensure our messages are secure but to monitor it.

“Right. Well, I’m currently preparing for class, but I’m free for lunch today or tomorrow.”

“Very good. I’ll meet you back here at eleven thirty?” He raps his knuckles against the doorframe. “It’s probably best if we take this conversation off campus.”

He gives me a nod, a silent farewell, but as he turns, his eyes narrow and his focus shifts over my shoulder. “Do you have a student in there, Mercer?”

I wave him off. “Not a student. Just my regular check-in with my graduate assistant.” I take a step back, revealing Sawyer’s back, which is stick-straight.

“Ms. Davvies,” I murmur, willing her to snap out of her stupor.

She swivels in her seat, her big brown eyes still panicked. I tilt my head slightly, but when she doesn’t get the silent directive, I mouthcome here.

She’s on her feet a second later, smoothing her hands down her skirt and striding toward the door.

My blood heats as she approaches. Such a good listener.

“Dean Stalworth, this is Sawyer Davvies, my graduate assistant.”

Like I knew it would, Sawyer’s professional mask snaps into place, and she extends her hand and smiles.

Such a good girl.

That train of thought almost sends me reeling.

Fuck, Mercer. This is not the time.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I press my back into my office door and nod along as Sawyer chats with the dean about her classes and how she’s liking Holt so far.

After another minute, Stalworth finally excuses himself. I close the door quickly, then lock it for good measure, though I wait until I can no longer hear his retreating footsteps before I turn back to face Sawyer.

Her eyes are wide, the tension rolling off her in waves.

I step forward, reaching for her face once more, moving slowly so she can anticipate my movements.

She doesn’t shy away when I cup her face. Her cheeks are flushed pink and warm to the touch. I hold her steady, my entire focus set on her trembling bottom lip.

“Is your head really okay?” I murmur.

Her jaw ticks, and she drops her gaze.

“Sawyer,” I scold.

Her eyes snap back up, full of a renewed intensity. “No. I mean, yes. I’m okay. I’m not hurt.” She swallows, the motion drawing my attention to the delicate expanse of her throat.

“You’re flushed.” I skim my thumbs over the pink splotches on her cheeks.