I can’t help but smile. “Aren’t you meant to be advising me not to drink?” I arch a brow as he turns to face me fully.
“Can I reform a little deviant like you?” Elian challenges with a quirk of his dark eyebrow. He regards me with amusement, and I take him in slowly, noting just how handsome he is.
Tipping my head to the side, I counter, “Do you want to?” There’s something powerful about having a man look at me like he’s doing right now. As if he wants to devour me, but he’s holding onto a shred of restraint that makes my body tremble.
I’m almost sure seeing him lose control will be a site. Strong, brutal, and nearly violent. The idea makes my thighs clench. I’m challenging him, but it’s impossible to stop myself. There’s a seductiveness about Elian I like seeing when he looks at me.
“Make no mistake. You being here, my little deviant, doesn’t mean you’re in control. I’m the one who will hold your pleasure in my hands, and I’ll enjoy watching you squirm under my touch.” His gaze trails from my eyes, over my lips, down my chest, all the way to my feet before snapping back to my face.
He takes a few seemingly controlled steps toward me, meticulously calculated, so by the time he reaches me, I’m breathless, waiting for the monster to attack. Elian reaches up, his hand tangling in my hair, and with a gentle tug, a gasp falls from my lips when he leans in. His face is inches from mine, his warm breath fanning over my mouth, and for a moment, all I want is for him to kiss me. If I move, my lips will most certainly be against his, but just like the night in the car, he doesn’t come closer.
“Now, would you like a drink?” he whispers, the words feathering themselves over me, causing goosebumps to rise on every inch of my skin.
“Yes, please.” My murmur is nothing more than a tormented plea. The smirk that graces Elian’s lips makes my stomach flip-flop wildly. He releases me, steps back, and leaves me in the living room without another word.
I turn to the room, making my way to the fireplace where I find three framed photos. One picture of a beach has Elian standing on the cream-colored sand grinning at whoever took the photo. He’s in a pair of shorts and a tank top, so I can’t see his body, but from the broadness of his shoulders and the heavyset muscles, I’m almost certain his torso will be chiseled to perfection.
The other is one of him and Ahren grinning at whoever is taking the photo, but the last one is of an older man. I can only guess it is Elian’s dad because there’s a slight resemblance with the dark hair and similar color eyes. His mouth, though, it’s pursed in a severe line, as if he’s angry at the world. Much like Elian is at times.
When Elian returns, he’s holding a glass of white wine. “Something light, and you’re only allowed one,” he tells me in an authoritative tone, which makes me smile. I can’t believe I’m here, in his house, having a drink with him. It feels slightly surreal.
“Thank you.” I take a sip of the chilled liquid, and a burst of citrus flavors takes hold. It’s delicious, and I tell him so. “This is a really good wine.”
“And you’re an expert, little deviant?” he teases before tipping the tumbler he refilled and swallowing the honey-colored alcohol.
“Not an expert, but I know enough about the world of alcohol and drugs to last me a lifetime,” I admit. Even though he’s my teacher and I should probably not tell him all of this, I have a feeling my file already has the information I’m about to spew. “I’ve done bad things as a teenager, rebelled because of the world I grew up around, but I’m not … bad.”
Elian regards me with a look that leaves me breathless. His shrewd, narrow gaze holds me in place, as if he’s trying to gauge if I’m telling the truth or not. For a long while, we stare at each other in silence before he speaks.
“Tell me about the night you got plastered across the media,” he says as he settles in one of the armchairs, resting his left ankle over his right knee.
“I don’t—”
“I want to know what your version of the story is,” he interrupts. So, he has read everything in my file.
“I was drunk, we were out partying, and things got messy. The night before, I was called into my father’s office like I was one of his colleagues. He and my mother agreed that I would be sent away. A wayward teenager out of control. I was angry, and I did something stupid. It was a mistake I will not be repeating ever again.”
Even though that’s only part of the story I’m comfortable telling, Elian nods as if he’s satisfied with my recollection. He sips his drink and continues staring at me.
“Now tell me the truth,” he says suddenly. Leaning back in the chair, he grins when my mouth opens, then closes. “You can’t lie to me, and you can’t withhold information. If we’re going to do this, you need to be honest. I have to know all those dark, little secrets you keep hidden behind those pretty, gray eyes.”
“The past is just that,” I tell him. “It’s something I’ve walked away from. Surely that’s something you can understand.” A glint of frustration sparks in his stare, the blue reminding me of the ocean, deep and endless.
“Take off your dress,” he orders suddenly, taking the topic of conversation away from my past and knocking it right into the present. He glowers when I don’t immediately obey. “I don’t like repeating myself.”
I set the glass down, never breaking eye contact with him. Slowly, torturously, I tug the hem up to my thighs. The higher it inches,
