But I don’t.
“Yes.”
A groan is the response to my affirmation. He doesn’t realize that I’ve waited for this. I’ve craved, ached, and tormented myself just to hear those filthy words come from his mouth. He doesn’t know it, but I will make him see.
“Then do it,” he grunts, a smirk curling his full lips as he watches me. His pupils dilate, making the darkness in his eyes even more prominent. Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, I lower myself to my knees. I don’t move. Silence fills the air, it hangs heavily, a guillotine ready to drop, and I’ll go willingly if this is the last moment I have. My chest tightens, the ache that’s been following me for months is still there, but with Elian’s eyes on me, it eases.
His head tips to the side. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he narrows his eyes as he looks at me. Taking me in, he slowly shakes his head, and I almost think he’s about to send me home, but he doesn’t.
“At first, I wanted to fight this bullshit attraction I have,” he says, his words lowering to a near whisper. My breath catches at his admission, and I wait for him to say more, but I’m met with silence.
“And now?” I’m once again poking the sleeping bear. But I don’t care anymore because I want this.
He pushes to his feet. He’s tall, looming over me and the coffee table that’s still strewn with papers. But he doesn’t come toward me. Instead, he goes to the liquor cabinet, and I watch him pour a generous shot of amber liquid.
He brings the tumbler to his lips as he settles back in the chair. His stare does nothing to calm my rapid heartbeat. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to calm down while I’m around Elian. Especially when we’re alone. Especially while I’m on my knees, waiting for him to command me into action.
“Tell me something, Arabella,” he says when he settles in his chair again. Blue eyes pierce me, holding me hostage. “Why are you here?” He rests his right ankle on his left knee and sits back into the cushions with his blue eyes piercing me.
“You asked me—”
“No. I mean, why are you kneeling in my living room?” he asks, tipping his glass toward me. “When you could be out with Ahren and his friends, or perhaps with some other young guy from the academy? Someone your own age.”
“I don’t want someone my own age,” I tell him fiercely as conviction burns in my words, but Elian doesn’t seem convinced.
He looks at me through narrowed eyes for a long while before he responds, “Perhaps that’s the truth. Is your young heart aching for a father figure? Or is it that you just enjoy being bad? Tell me your story, little deviant?”
“I’m—”
“And don’t bullshit me. I want the truth, or you leave my house and never return.” His command is fierce, cold, just like the way he’s glaring at me.
How do I tell my history teacher I want him to rip all my clothes off and do sinful things to me? It sounds stupid when I think it in my mind. I spoke a big game of being all grown up, but the way Elian is looking at me right now, I feel like the teenager with a crush that I truly am. Will he send me home if I told him how much I’d love him to dominate me?
“Shall I take a guess?” Elian asks, his dark brow arching in question, and I nod. “I think you’re here because when you’re close to me, when I look at you, it makes your pretty cunt wet. Your heart skips a beat whenever I call your name, and your body aches for my touch even though you have no clue what I can do to you.” His words send heat to my cheeks, and my body does respond in just the way he’s mentioned. My heartbeat is deafening while my throat is thick with nervousness. My fingers tremble, and I know he can see my reaction to him.
He lifts a tumbler to his lips and takes a long sip, but he doesn’t break eye contact, and I can’t find words to refute his admission. Instead, I stay quiet because even if I wanted to, I can’t deny he’s right. Everything he’s said, is exactly how I feel.
“And you’re here because you think I might want to seal your lips with mine, perhaps even trail my hand over your shoulder, teasing my way down your arm until I grip your hip and tug you closer to me. Those are all gentle, affectionate movements. Things a good man might do.”
The more he speaks, the deeper his voice gets. I can’t stop myself from squirming as my ass rests on the heels of my feet, and those blue eyes track my movement. As infinitesimal as it is, Elian sees it all. He doesn’t move; he doesn’t even smile this time. The serious expression on his face is hard as stone, as if no emotions are taking hold of him the way they are of me.