“Ones we can easily take care of.”
“I can’t just be bought, I’m not some hooker. I have limits.” Hurt crawls over her face and stabs me in the heart.
Unleashed rage flares to life deep in my gut. Whoever hurt this woman so deeply she can’t see what a brilliant, beautiful woman she is needs his ass kicked. “Don’t ever degrade yourself like that. We’re simply cutting through any obstacles that will keep you here.”
I take her hands between mine. “Please don’t say no. Come with us. We have clients to see during our break. Paris, London.”
Her green eyes swim with curiosity and I swear I see them shift and sway like molten emeralds. “How the hell do you expect someone to think when you do all...these...these things to them? I can barely get my brain to work.” Her knees are visibly shaking and I notice Erik take more of her weight in his arms.
As usual, Daemon takes the more direct approach. “Don’t you want to know what all three of your professors would feel like? The party was just a sample, baby girl.” He hauls her into his arms and her legs wrap around his waist. She’s comfortable in his embrace, his mouth on her neck whether she wants to admit to it or not.
I smile to myself. She might be giving up a bit of a fight, but Jemma has already made up her mind. Or her body has at least.
“As long as the dean doesn’t find out…” she draws out, looking at each of us for a long moment. “One week. That’s all I can give.”
We’ll see about that.