Page 114 of Almost Ravaged

“Before we head out,” Mercer says, his expression shrewd and his arms crossed, “I need to make one point abundantly clear.”

He stalks around the desk, and I back up on instinct. Only when he’s backed me into a built-in bookcase does he stop.

He peers down at me, then gently tips my chin up so I’m forced to look at him.

“What just occurred will not affect your position in this department in any way. There is nothing to worry about, professionally or personally.”

Relief hits me, stealing the air from my lungs.

“Also of note,” he continues. “I sincerely hope this wasn’t a one-time occurrence for us. Now that I’ve had a taste, Ms. Davvies, I’ll be dreaming of our next encounter. Ideally, off campus, where I don’t have to remind you to stay quiet.”

Oh. Okay, then.

He places a featherlight kiss on my lips, smirks, then backs up.

I stand there, stunned, but grateful, nevertheless, for the clear, direct communication.

Once he’s rounded his desk again, I spring into action, collecting all my folders and stashing them in my bag. I still need to find a mirror and get ittogether before class, but inside, I feel a hell of a lot calmer than I did moments ago.

“See you in class, Professor.” I head for the door, glancing over my shoulder.

His smoldering gaze meets mine and sends me soaring. Dozens of butterflies dance in my belly, then they simultaneously take flight when he replies, “See you out of class as well, Ms. Davvies.”

Chapter thirty-nine

Sawyer

As a familiar Dave Matthews Band song plays, I survey the console with all its blue LED lights and fancy knobs, then sneak another glance at Mercer. “I didn’t know they still put CD players in cars,” I tease.

“They don’t,” he grouses. With one arm resting on the open window frame, he navigates the streets I’ve come to know well. His grip on the steering wheel is tight, making the cords in his forearm tense each time he makes a turn. “I had it installed when I bought the car.”

I stifle a laugh, but when he turns, glowering at me, there’s no holding back.

“I’ve been collecting CDs since middle school,” he defends, giving me a look that suggests he blames me for the rise of digital music and streaming services. “I won’t just abandon physical media because it’s the trendy thing to do.”

I can’t resist. “Since middle school, huh? And was that during this century or last, Professor Eden?”

Nostrils flaring, he grumbles a “Little Nuisance” without taking his eyes off the road.

I turn toward the passenger window to hide my smile. He can call me Little Nuisance anytime.

It’s wild how so many of the things I loathed about him weeks ago are suddenly extremely attractive. Now that he isn’t acting as if I’m the bane of his existence or the grand saboteur of his plans, it’s easy to see his charm, intelligence, and sex appeal.

Two orgasms and a little detour to subspace will do that to a girl.

He’s conventionally handsome, but the air of pomp and confidence he possesses elevates him above convention. His intensity still unnerves me sometimes, but I appreciate that I don’t have to read between the lines with him. He shares what he’s thinking, and he doesn’t shy away from emotion the way so many people do. He goes from serious to playful in a flash, but where he stands is always clear. Our banter and his quick wit are unparalleled. Debating feels safe, because he doesn’t take cheap shots or pull the rug out from under his opponent.

When I told him about my plans to film content at the orchard tonight, he insisted on tagging along. And that we ride together. Which is how I ended up in the front seat of his black Audi, coasting down the leaf-littered road on Friday evening.

With the windows down, the brisk fall air whips through the car, bringing with it the smell of burning leaves. As it mingles with the sharp, aquatic notes of Mercer’s cologne, I can’t resist inhaling deeply.

It’s a heady experience, being in such close quarters with him. Especially after our encounter on Monday.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen one another since then, but it’s the first time we’ve been alone.

Mercer canceled our one-on-one on Wednesday morning, but he was very clear it was due to a department meeting he was required to attend, ensuring that nothing had changed since we parted ways on Monday.

I believe him. He’s refreshingly candid, as proven by the way he’s gone above and beyond to check in over the last few days.