Page 2

Chapter two

I slipped into the back row of the lecture hall, easing into a hard metal seat along the last row, out of sight but with a perfect view of Storm. Excuse me, Professor Windermere.

He stood at the front, commanding, authoritative, and fine as all hell. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie slightly loosened, his dark eyes flashing with amusement as he leaned against the desk, fielding a question from one of his students.

“So, what you’re saying,” a girl in the front row said, tapping her pen against her notebook, “is that this whole rollback thing isn’t about race at all? ”

Storm gave her a half nod. “Not exactly. It’s about race at its core, but race is about power.

Always was. The two are inextricably linked.

” He crossed his muscular arms in front of him.

“When the government cuts funding for classes that teach your history and culture, they’re exercising the power to make you insignificant because of your race.

It’s shoring up their importance, which is an extension of their power. ”

His voice was rich and clear, every word deliberately chosen. He thrived up there, in control, challenging, pushing them. The way he made them hang on his words…shit, the way he made me hang on his words—it was intoxicating.

I dreaded summer school as a child, but this right here was alright.

I shifted in my seat, crossing my legs, pressing them together, dodging flashbacks of the other night when the four of us were all together in the house.

The professor fucked me for the first time, but we weren't alone.

I was eager to experience him one-on-one.

I had a feeling it would be quite the encounter .

There were layers to Storm. It's something that always intrigued me about him.

“That makes sense,” the girl said, and he flashed her a smile that made me want to slap her across the face.

Someone a few rows in front of me raised their hand. When Professor glanced toward us, his eyes found mine with effortless precision, his lips curling knowingly as he pointed to the young man.

“But, like, what are they scared of?” the boy asked. “They think we’re gonna learn about slavery and then start a race war?”

Storm shrugged. “Knowledge is always dangerous when it threatens the status quo. And when people feel threatened, when institutions feel threatened, they go on the offense.”

The way he said that sent a shiver down my spine.

Because unlike anybody in here, hopefully, I knew just how well that statement could be applied to Storm.

Late at night, when he wasn’t standing in the classroom shaping young minds, he was a dangerous man.

To others. To me. To the sensitive places between my thighs …

“And that concludes today’s discussion,” he announced as he moved back to the podium. “I’d love to keep going, but somebody’s lurking in the shadows back there waiting for me.”

Several students twisted in their seats, following his gaze. I rolled my eyes, but smiled at the call-out.

“Damn, Professor,” one of the guys in the front said. “You got groupies out here?”

Storm smirked. “Favor ain’t fair, my friends.”

The room filled with laughter as students began to gather their things and file toward the exit. A few young female students made comments to him on their way out, which, if I was reading their body language accurately, were probably not about homework or what article to read.

Storm’s energy remained professional, however. Charming, but detached. I waited until the last student left before I made my way down the aisle toward him. The man was like a magnet, drawing me in, strengthening my attraction.

“Groupie?” I said, tilting my head. “Is that what I am now? ”

Storm’s smirk deepened. “If the shoe fits.”

I leaned against the desk, letting my eyes roam over him. “I’m done for the day. Take me to dinner.”

He paused, holding his laptop at the opening of his messenger bag. “You asking me or telling me?”

“Did my inflection go up at end?” I said with a grin.

His eyes didn’t leave me as he finished packing his things. I held his gaze, feeling my insides heating dangerously. Finally, he pulled his bag over his shoulder and inclined his head.

“Let’s get it.” He led me to the door, pausing to toss out, “For the record, whether you asked or told me, I was damn sure gonna go.”

Across from Storm in a booth at Entra, I shimmied my shoulders to the sounds of the jazz coming from the restaurant’s speakers .

“Is this adequate?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow. “If I recall correctly, you love seafood towers.”

I nodded slowly in the dim light. Storm picked the perfect place. Entra is tucked into a quiet part of the city, the kind of spot where people weren’t likely to recognize a professor and an administrator dining together.

Not that anything is wrong with that.

It was just…this was all brand new. Three men. One me. Sex. Debauchery. Scandal.

Could people tell when they looked at me?

Storm leaned back, sipping his bourbon, watching me over the rim of his glass. “You’re quiet.”

I twirled my wine glass between my fingers, watching the golden liquid spiral in silken ribbons. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a dangerous habit.”

I smiled, chuckling at that. “About Revere.”

His face fell, the amusement in his eyes slowly dimming. “What about him?”

I took a deep inhale, blowing it out slowly as my eyes dropped to the table. “I’m struggling, Storm. Not just with losing him, but with…everything. His life. What he did. What you do.”

He set his glass down, studying my face. “What do you want me to say? You want me to explain it? Because I don’t know if I can do that for you.”

“Why not?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, shaking his head as his eyes dropped to the table.

I leaned in. “I wanna know why you do it.”

He rubbed his goatee, finally bringing his eyes back to mine. “I don’t have an answer that would satisfy you, San.”

That was fair.

How do you explain to someone else why you kill people? That there’s an aspect of it that you might even…enjoy?

It wasn’t proper dinner conversation.

Still, I said, “Try me.”

He pressed his lips together, a shadow flickering across his face. “Am I the only one you asked?”

I shook my head. "I know why Cruz does it."

"Then why are you asking me ?"

I shrugged. “You’re like me. You're cerebral. You think about things. You’re in your head. I guess I assumed you had your own reasons that aren't related to Cruz or Titan. I thought you'd be the one to break it all down for me. Was I wrong to think that?"

He looked up suddenly, throwing his hand up to signal the waiter. Lacy shuffled back to our table, eager to smile at him again.

“Another one,” he said, pointing at his empty glass. “You want more, San?”

I stared at my glass and shook my head. I was only halfway into my chardonnay.

After Lacy left, he cleared his throat, pulling out his phone for the first time since we got here.

Rude ass.

“So that’s a no on us talking about it,” I said.

He nodded. “Not a conversation for tonight.”

“Fine.” I crossed my arms in front of me like a petulant child. “And that’s why I’m selling the house. I can’t live in the past, holding onto shit that doesn’t make sense for me anymore. It’s better for the school. It’s better for everyb—“

“For you , maybe.” His eyes narrowed. “Not for us.”

“Why does it matter so much?” I pressed. “What is it about that house?”

The air between us shifted, tension laced through the silence. Storm, as always, was an expert at deflection and keeping the walls erected high when it came to anything real. It was a skill the way he could always shift the focus to where he wanted it.

“You seeing somebody right now?” he asked, cracking a smile.

I nearly choked on my wine. “Actually, yes. Three fine, hardheaded negroes who drive me crazy.”

“You know what I mean.”

I blew out a sigh. “The last guy was boring.”

I don't know why, but the professor liked asking me about other men. Sometimes, it felt like it might even be foreplay for him.

“Boring how?”

Lacy returned just then, but Storm’s dark eyes stayed locked on me. He murmured, “ Thanks,” to her, then raised his eyebrows, urging me to answer.

“He did everything right,” I said. “Nice. Polite. Pleasant conversation.” I picked at my napkin. “I was bored out of mind.”

Storm smirked. “I noticed something about you, San.”

I lifted my eyebrows.

“You like trouble.”

“Clearly,” I muttered, watching him take a sip.

He swallowed, then leaned in closer to me. “Keep on. You gon’ get exactly what you asked for.”

Heat pooled in my stomach, spreading downward to land squarely between my legs.

This thing with him, and them , was…untenable. And what I couldn’t say was that no man could possibly measure up. None could satisfy me the way Storm, Cruz, Titan did. They each gave me something different, something I needed, and no individual man could ever be all of it.

"The other night," he said slowly. "That was the first time we made love."

"I know. I was there. "

He chuckled, his eyes darkening as they roamed my face. "It was fucking amazing."

"I agree," I said, my cheeks heating.

"A little crowded, though."

I watched him take a drink. Even something so simple as imbibing a glass of whisky was sexy when he did it. He had that kind of presence, like a strong command over everything around him, even inanimate objects.

"Have you ever slept with one of your students?"

A slow grin spread across his face as he set his glass on the table. "Santari Lake," he said, low and deep. "You curious, or jealous?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe a little bit of both?"

Our seafood tower arrived just then, decadent and full. The shiny silver stand was packed with crushed ice, oysters nestled in their shells, plump shrimp, and lobster claws cracked just enough to expose a glimpse of sweet, white flesh.

My mouth watered as I lay my napkin across my lap. Storm rolled up his sleeves, exposing the strong lines of his forearms, giving me a brief glimpse of the brand on the inside of his right arm.

“You’re staring,” he murmured as he reached for a shrimp.

I swallowed hard. “It looks delicious.”

He smirked. “Me, or the food?”

I rolled my eyes playfully as he dipped the shrimp into the sauce, smiling when he leaned in and held it an inch from my lips. The sharp, tangy smell of the cocktail sauce made my mouth water.

Storm watched me. Waited. Patient and controlled.

“Open.”

I opened my mouth and took a bite, leaving a little for him, which he promptly sucked out of the tail.

He reached for an oyster shell, carefully tipping it into his palm.

“Open,” he ordered again, his voice a little rougher.

Not a fan of oysters, I parted my lips just enough, allowing him to press the shell against them. He tilted it slowly, letting the oyster slide onto my tongue, cool and briny. His thumb brushed my lower lip, wiping away a stray drop of liquor .

I swallowed, letting the flavor linger. Somehow, it tasted better coming from him.

“You like that?” he asked, his gaze darkening.

“Don’t you know what I like by now?”

His low chuckle warmed me. “I’m what you might call a lifelong learner.”

“Really, Professor?” I tilted my head. “I would have thought you’d be teaching me .”

“Oh, I can do that, too.”

I clenched my thighs together, stimulating myself. “After everything we’ve done, I’m not sure I need to learn anything else.”

He reached out to trail his fingers lightly over my wrist. “Trust me, sweetheart. You do.”

After dinner, we didn’t make it far past the restaurant exit before he pulled me in, his mouth crashing into mine. The kiss was slow and deep, his fingers curling around the back of my neck, holding me there, drinking me in.

I melted into him, wishing we could stay like this all night. I had plans for him, things I wanted to do and experience, just the two of us. The way he was kissing me, I just knew we were on the same page, but then he pulled back, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“I enjoyed having you all to myself tonight,” he said.

“The night doesn’t have to end.”

His eyes dropped to my lips. “I have work to do.”

Frustration burned through me, the sting of rejection strong and unrelenting. “What could be more important than us, without a crowd?”

He smirked, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. “I’ll make it up to you, princess.”

“When?”

Even as I said it, I felt stupid. I sounded desperate, and that wasn’t like me. I just didn’t know how to navigate this yet. Once I taste something I like, I only want it more. I wanna binge and gorge until I get sick of it, then do it all over again.

“Soon,” was all he said. “And hopefully, by that time, you’ll be ready for me."