Page 93 of Sinful Desires

“Is it hot in here?” I asked randomly, pulling a quizzical look from him. Before he had a chance to respond, I was peeling my shirt off revealing my V-neck tank-top underneath.

“Aspen,” he warned. “Put your shirt back on.”

“There’s no rule that says I can’t wear a tank top.” I shrugged. “Which I wear all the time by the way.”

“It’s cold outside, why would you want to?” I rolled my eyes when I realized he was going to turn this into a full conversation.

“What?” I questioned innocently. “Is there something wrong with my outfit?”

Sighing, he returned his attention to my paper. “Nothing is wrong with your outfit,” was his only reply.

My body cursed me as it reminded me of the events that had occurred last night. Neither of the guys had been gentle with my body and I was feeling the effects of that today.

My heart pounded in my ears, remembering the way it felt when Foster poured the alcohol over me, how much it burned. How it felt like I was drowning when Hunter poured water over my head.

“Aspen?” Monroe’s voice cut through my thoughts. My gaze snapped to his. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat under his watchful gaze. “Is everything okay?”

Forcing a small smile, I nodded. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You look pale—or—paler,” he pointed out.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’ve always been pale. Really, I’m fine.”

He gave me a skeptical onceover, but then nodded. Even if I wanted to tell him the truth, I couldn’t. Not if I valued my life at least.

Underestimating Myles would be stupid of me. Especially when I knew what he was capable of. He was a monster. A stupid, sexy monster. Maybe if things had been different and he didn’t haunt all my nightmares and wasn’t a psychopath, then maybe something could have happened there.

“Moving on then,” Monroe said, bringing me back to the present.

He started rambling on about why flashcards could be useful, and they were more beneficial to people who struggled with remembering and needed to go over something multiple times before it stuck.

At this point, I just wanted to pass so I agreed to attempt the flashcards. Once I was reunited with Avery, I could forget all about this fuckfest.

“I’ll get some flashcards made up for you and have them to you by tomorrow. In the meantime, you need to be studying chapter forty-two in the textbook. There will be a test tomorrow.”

My eyes snapped to his once again. “Seriously?” I deadpanned. “I’m never going to get my grade up at this rate.” A frown tugged at my mouth as I slumped back in my seat.

Things were a lot easier when I didn’t care about any of this. All this seemed to do was stress me the hell out. Not to mention, how was I supposed to find any time to study when those assholes refused to leave me alone?

“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you then.”

“I have a better idea,” I chirped, mischief plummeting through me. “How about…you let me out of this test tomorrow, and I make it worth your while?” There was no missing the suggestive edge to my voice. I had no intention of pimping myself out, but it was the only thing I could think to say in the moment.

His eyes widened a fraction and his lips parted as he tried to wrap his head around what I was implying.

Wetting my lips, I leaned forward so that the top of my tank top drooped, revealing part of my upper breasts. As expected, his gaze traced my every movement, but I knew he’d need more persuading than this. When his eyes dropped to my chest, satisfaction wormed its way through me.

“My eyes are up here, professor,” I said in a breathy tone.

Clearing his throat, his face flushed, and he snapped his gaze back to mine. “I’m not your professor—”

“Would you rather I call you daddy?”

“Aspen,” he warned, his resolve beginning to crumble.

Leaning forward even more, my hand moved to his where it rested on the wooden surface. He attempted to pull it away, but my grip only tightened. He’d have to fight back a little more than that if he wanted me to leave him alone. I needed to believe it.

My fingertips brushed against the hair coating his wrist, gliding over his black watch and stopping just as I reached his wedding ring. Before he could process what I was doing, I slipped the piece of jewelry from his finger and leaned back in my chair, putting distance between us.