Page 41 of Almost Rotten

Without argument, the dean scurries out of the office.

Mercer doesn’t move, as if trying to catch my eye, but I refuse to look up.

Eventually, he clears his throat and skirts around his desk. As he passes, he brushes one hand over my shoulder, cupping my neck affectionately.

Instinctively, I lean into his barely there touch.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises.

When he’s gone, the loss of contact is palpable, from the tips of my toes all the way into the hollow of my stomach.

Chapter sixteen

Mercer

After I’ve sent Patrick on his way, I slump back against the wall outside my office.

The way he reacted. The way he fucking looked at her.

I don’t possess enough willpower to conjure up a sense of calm.

I’m a powder keg, and every second that ticks by in which Sawyer is right in front of me yet out of reach is a spark. Each one is liable to catch and set my world ablaze.

Eyes closed, I breathe deeply, once, then again. Then I straighten and step into my office. I close the door behind mewith a soft click and retrace my steps, circling my desk. Rather than sit, I rest my hands on the surface and angle forward.

As Sawyer scribbles a note, preferring to hand write them rather than type them, I wait patiently. Only after she’s placed the last period on the paper do I clear my throat.

Tentatively, she lifts her gaze.

Warm honey eyes meet mine, far duller than they should be.

She’s slipping.

Away from herself. Away from me.

I can fucking feel it, deep in my bones.

Fuck the time I agreed to give her to sort out this mess. This boy has come between us already. I can’t allow this to continue.

With a false sense of calm, I ask, “Why did the dean act as if he’s seen you naked, Ms. Davvies?”

She scowls up at me through her dark lashes. “Because hehasseen me naked, Professor Eden. At least my lower half, since you kept my tits covered pretty well when you fucked me in that locker room.”

Jesus H.

I forgot how fucking sassy she could be when backed into a corner.

Chest heaving, I grip the desk to keep myself from flipping it over.

“This isn’t okay.” My pulse pounds in my ears, my blood pumping through my limbs with ferocity. “Does he still have the footage? Is that why he was a blubbering, mortified mess when he saw you? Did he keep it?”

With a heavy sigh, Sawyer slumps back in her chair. She can’t even maintain her attitude. She’s that defeated. “I don’t think so. Ty took care of it.”

Red spots dot my vision.

“He took care of it?” I mock.

That little fucker.