Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Stay in the class. It’s fine. It fits with how my fucking life has been the last few months.”
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t know what makes me do it, why I open my mouth and let the words fall out when it’s so fucking far from my MO, it’s like an alien took over my body, but I say, “Oh, you mean the fact that my abusive mom died? And when she did, I found out I have two young siblings I knew nothing about? I have custody of them and don’t know the first thing about raising children. They hate me, and I can’t blame them. I’m going to ruin their lives just like she ruined all of ours.” My breathing picks up, my chest tight. The room spins.
I’m usually better at this, better at having a handle on things and not losing it. Why the fuck did I say any of this to him? I want the words back. I can’t let him see these parts of me. He’s already seen the others, seen who I am and what I crave. Telling him this is showing him more of me than anyone has seen, which makes me shake and spin out of control even more.
“James.”
“Professor Valentine,” I force out, and realize I’m pacing. When had I started to move? Why am I losing it like this? What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Breathe,” Colton says, closer now, hand on my shoulder as my legs feel weak. “Hey. Come here.”
“No,” I argue.
“Sit,” he demands, not taking no for an answer and pulling my chair over.
I shouldn’t sit.
I shouldn’t listen.
But I do.
“Did you eat this morning?”
“No.” And I’m not used to that. I eat breakfast every morning. It’s part of my routine. Something about that makes the buzz in my head grow.
“Hey. Look at me.” I don’t, but then Colton’s hand is beneath my chin, tilting my head up so I can’t deny him. “Focus on me. Breathe with me,” he instructs before taking a deep breath in…and damned if I don’t do the same. When he exhales, I do that with him too. “That’s it. You’re being so fucking good for me. Do it again, just like last time. Breathe real slow with me.”
I do it again, then a third time and a fourth, letting Colton walk me through this, letting him relax me, pull me out of my head and give me something to focus on.
“Good boy. One more,” he says, pulling air into his lungs, then letting it out.
My vision clears, my heart slows. I nuzzle my cheek into his hand before realizing what I’m doing and pushing the rolling chair away from him.
“What the fuck was that? Don’t. We can’t.”
Colton frowns. “That wasn’t about sex. I’m not trying to hit on you. I just…you need to eat. Don’t do that again. No matter what happens, you’re to eat breakfast every morning before you come in.”
He has no business telling me that, and I have none wanting to listen. I’ve never had a Dom tell me to eat before, but then, I’ve never had any kind of relationship with Doms outside of the occasional random scene. This is…different.
“Do you hear me? I want you to eat every day. Breakfast is important.”
I scoff. He’s a child. My student, telling me to eat. “What I do or don’t isn’t your concern.” I stand, straighten my suit, wish I hadn’t liked being told what to do, hadn’t liked being his good boy. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
He watches me, forehead pinched, stare intense. I see his hand twitch, wonder if he wants to spank me for not listening, and God, do I crave that.
“Get out, Mr. Hathaway,” I say, using his last name to build more of a wall between us.
“Eat,” he says again, before walking out of the room.
I don’t leave my office until it’s time for class, and when I get there, an apple and a bagel are waiting for me on the desk. As soon as I get a chance, I eat.
CHAPTER EIGHT
James
Colton wasn’t in class on Wednesday.
There’s an insulated lunch bag on the desk in my classroom when I arrive on Thursday. I frown at it, wondering whose it is or how it got there, but when I get closer, I see an envelope on the top with my name on it. I look around the room as though expecting someone to jump out and play a joke on me. When that doesn’t happen, I rip open the envelope and tug out the note.
V,
I packed you a ham and cheese sandwich and some fruit. If you didn’t eat breakfast, eat this before class begins. If you already ate, save it for lunch and have it then. No excuses. I expect you’ll do the right thing.