“Together?” Her voice was hopeful.
Honestly, she couldn’t get rid of me if she wanted to at this point. “Yes, Della. Together.”
Chapter Eleven
Della
The ache between my legs was the only indication that what happened last night was real. As I stretched out my spent body, I turned in bed and examined the empty spot beside me, patting the cooled sheets and frowning.
Memories surfaced of waking up in the middle of the night together in my bed when Theo’s fingers had found my core, playing with me until I writhed for more. I’d returned the favor a few hours after by tasting the part of him I’d been secretly dying to for longer than I admitted to him. The way he hissed when he woke up to my tongue grazing the side of his cock as I sucked him off had me feeling like a goddess. It was a feeling I didn’t know well at all, and he only fed it as he put his hand in my hair with a groan and murmured, “You’ll be the end of me. I fucking swear it.”
It’d made me grin. Not as much as the faint remembrance of soft lips pressing against my temple and the words, “Anthony would fucking kill me” racking around my mind.
Thinking about my father was the last thing I wanted, but I could tell it plagued him. I didn’t want it to, of course, but I didn’t fault him for it. What we’d done wasn’t some light thing. It was crossing a lot of lines that people would frown upon, but I didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t care what people thought.
And that was…freeing.
Sitting up, I clutched the sheets to my naked body and glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Swearing, I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and bolted toward the closet to grab whatever outfit was quickest to slide on. The jeans and sweatshirt weren’t flattering considering everything else I owned, but it was comfortable, and I was going to be late for my exam if I didn’t leave now.
Stumbling into the bathroom to run a brush through my hair, I gaped at the green dyed locks from the paint last night that didn’t come out during the shower we’d taken together. Shaking my head, I threw it back into a messy bun and called it good.
It was when I reached for my bag on the kitchen counter that I saw the piece of paper with words scribbled on them next to it.
Left for work. Took the dog home.
Throat thickening, I ran the pad of my thumb over the last word. The light feeling in my chest made me breathe easier as I tucked the note into the front pocket of my jeans and threw the bag over my shoulder.
It didn’t take long for me to get to campus, where I managed to slide into the last seat of the lecture hall with a look of disapproval from the professor. Sinking down, I grabbed a pen and barely had time to catch my breath from speed walking before a packet was dropped in front of me.
“Nice of you to join us, Ms. Saint James,” Professor Ribbons said dryly. The elderly woman never liked me, but it’d gotten worse after things with my father hit the news. To her, I was as guilty as he was by association.
I murmured an apology and watched her white brow arch in disbelief. Staring down at the questions, I waited until she was walking back to the front of the room before expelling a breath and getting to work. I was halfway through when I realized I didn’t study enough and could only hope I got a passing grade that didn’t tank my overall class average too badly. I’d struggled as it was catching up in this class because political science wasn’t an interest of mine, even though it probably should have been with the amount of times I’d heard my father talking about the subject matter over the years. It came with his role as governor, I supposed. That lack of interest didn’t help Ribbons’ expectations of me though. And flashbacks of last night, of that blissful ache nestled between my legs, certainly distracted me from the paper I should have focused on.
People left the room one by one until it was just me remaining, and my leg bounced when I felt piercing eyes on me for the better part of the period. I wanted to ask why she was staring, why she hated me when she didn’t know me beyond being one of her students. But part of me knew. People like Professor Ribbons thrived on the rich getting what they deserved. She’d gone on a thirty-minute rant once during the beginning of the semester on how politicians used their money and power to get away with anything. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what I expected given her role as the political science department head—she studied politics and political scandals for years. If I didn’t need the elective, I would have avoided her and her reputation at all costs given who I was related to, but I had no choice by the time class signups were available. Evidently, I didn’t have the money or power to get out of it. Not anymore.
Relief filled me when I answered the final question and closed the packet. Stuffing my pen in the side pocket of my bag, I stood and walked the test up to her desk where she watched me carefully. “Finally finished?”
Teeth grinding, I nodded.
“Did you study for this?”
“Yes.” I paused. “Not as much as I would have liked.”
She looked at me with bored eyes.
“Can I ask you something, professor?” I was surprised by my own inquiry, but not as much as she was considering I tended to avoid any conversation with her if I could help it. When she didn’t answer, I went ahead and continued. “What did
