She lowered her forehead to his shoulder and laughed. “What is my life? I need more coffee.”
He laughed and peeled back the lapels of her robe. “No, we need our parts to have this very serious discussion. Mine just woke up early for the meeting.” He gathered her fully against him, the state of his growing erection hard to miss even through his jeans. “He’s very interested in today’s agenda.”
Her skin warmed at the feel of him and she looked up, letting her hands loop around his neck. “Is that right?”
Lane smiled. “Yes. Agenda item number one: Make Elle come before breakfast.” He pushed her robe off, leaving her in just a T-shirt and panties. “Agenda item number two: Come on Elle after breakfast.” He traced a finger down her sternum. “Agenda item number three: Lick her clean for dessert.”
She shivered at the promise and the filthy-sexy images. “I’m liking this agenda.”
He dragged her T-shirt up and off, his gaze eating her up, and then cradled her breast in his hot palm, his thumb teasing her. “Good. Because I have a feeling this meeting’s going to
get messy.”
“Yeah?” His words moved through her, echoing in another place, far from her sex-addled thoughts.
Get messy.
The words sent a shimmer of anxiety through her.
Because the truth was, they were already there. This was getting messy. But she shoved the thought away, not wanting to evaluate it too closely.
Lane lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth while his hand tracked downward, finding her wet and wanting. Always wanting when it came to him. A sharp pulse of desire fanned outward from his touch, and all those dangerous thoughts blissfully slid away into the background.
This was just sex.
Her brain needed to shut up and enjoy it.
She’d figure out the rest later.
Because in this moment, all was right in her world.
Chapter 14
“It qualifies as a disability.”
Lane shifted in the hard plastic chair of the Learning Services Center, his skin going clammy as he listened to the bespectacled counselor go over his test results. “A disability.”
The counselor, Mitchell, gave him a brief, emotionless smile. “Yes, Mr. Cannon. That’s good news.”
Lane couldn’t contain his derisive snort. “Oh, having dyslexia is good news. That’s great to hear. I didn’t realize I’d won some contest.”
Mitchell adjusted his glasses and gave Lane a patient look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Of course, it’s a challenge. But it’s one you’ve faced your entire life, I’m sure. Now that it’s been identified and qualifies as a disability, you can get some accommodations—technology aids, tutoring if needed, extra time on assignments and tests. It opens up options that can help you be successful here at the university.”
The words made Lane feel like he’d ingested bad cafeteria food, leaving his stomach turning and a bad taste lingering in his mouth. Despite agreeing to do this, the idea of getting special treatment to get through school still pushed all his fuck no buttons. The whole point of getting his degree was to prove to himself that he could. He wanted to walk across that stage, get his diploma, and know that he’d done it the same way everyone else had. On his own. That the janitor’s son, the kid who got kicked out of his house at sixteen, the former escort, could be a college graduate.
“I don’t want special treatment.”
Mitchell folded his hands atop Lane’s test results. “I understand, Mr. Cannon. I do. But this isn’t special treatment. It’s accommodation for the way your brain is wired. There’s a difference. You have what it takes to be successful here if you learn to work with your dyslexia.” He pushed the file folder toward Lane. “When you get a chance, you should go through your results in more detail. The evaluation found far more strengths than deficits.”
Lane took the folder but barely heard the words. He had no interest in a bunch of test results, just the bottom line. “So I get more time to turn in my paper?”
“Yes,” he said, reaching over to wake his computer screen. “And I’m going to give you a computer program that takes dictation. That way you can speak your paper instead of typing. But there’s a bit of a learning curve with it. I have a student worker who can train you on it. Then, once we get this paper out of the way, we can set up some sessions with one of our specialists. She can show you some methods and tricks that will help with your writing and reading comprehension. Your auditory comprehension is very strong, and you don’t seem to have trouble organizing ideas if you speak them aloud, so that gives us a lot to work with.”
A student worker. A specialist. Lane’s mouth filled with a whole bunch of nope, nope, nope, but he bit his tongue and took a breath before speaking. “I don’t need a student worker. I’ll just take the program and figure it out. Until I get the hang of it, I have a friend who is going to help me with the paper. She said she could take dictation for me.”
The guy glanced at him with a lifted brow. “You sure? This won’t cost you anything.”
Except his pride. “I’m sure.”