My body burns up as he stares down my cleavage.
“But then again, I can’t imagine a better inspiration to do some work than getting a go on your tits.” I breathe a sigh of relief when one of his hands leaves me, but it’s short-lived because I quickly discover where it’s heading. He flicks my top button like a pro, exposing my silver bra.
“It really doesn’t come as a surprise to me that you’d be willing to let all the boys lust over your body.”
“I’m not— That’s not—”
“Try arguing with me when you don’t look like a shameless slut who’s desperate to get on her knees for a student.”
“You should be so lucky,” I breathe. “I’m not going anywhere near your shrivelled dick ever again.”
He chuckles, fucking chuckles, before thankfully righting my chair. It wobbles before it settles, and by the time my head stops spinning, he’s sitting opposite me with his forearms on the table, looking at me as if he’s impatient to start.
“You’re assuming I’d want you anywhere near me, Siren.”
My brow quirks, a comeback about him already being hard and aching for me on the tip of my tongue, but the librarian walks past the small window behind his head and I’m reminded of where I am and what I’m doing.
“Right, well. I marked those revision questions you handed in yesterday. They’re not good, Nico. The smug arrogance you handed them in with was certainly not warranted.
“We’re going to start by going through your answers and comparing them with what would be expected to hit both A and B grades.”
He rests back, placing his hands behind his head, and studies me.
“Go ahead, Miss Andrews.” His gaze drops to my chest and I’m reminded of the fact that I’m showing off my bra. “I’m fully focused and ready to blow your mind.”
I lift my trembling hands and, much to his amusement, fumble to do my shirt back up.
Arsehole.
By some miracle, he actually lets me do my job. Although I’m not entirely sure if that’s because he actually cares and wants to improve his answers, or if he’s just humouring me, waiting for an opening to bait me some more, or to do something that’s going to pull the rug from beneath my chair like he did with that fucking video yesterday.
Each tick of the clock rocks through me with every second that passes.
I study Nico as he writes an answer to one of the questions I’ve given him.
I should look elsewhere, do some work of my own, but I can’t. I’m enthralled by this enigma of a man.
We’ve never spent time like this. Time where we’re either not at each other’s throats or so consumed by each other that the rest of the world fails to exist.
Whenever we’ve hung out, there has been alcohol and debauchery. Not him allowing me to see this vulnerable, less-than-perfect side to him.
My heart races as I continue to stare at the top of his head, wondering how things might have been between us if we met at a different time, if the situations surrounding us were different.
It’s pointless, all of it, but it floats around in my head anyway.
Until something brushes up the back of my calf.
My breath catches, but for some fucked-up reason, I don’t move.
I also don’t breathe as I wait to see what he’s going to do next.
“Keep staring at me like that, Siren, and I’ll start to think you have other intentions for this private room.” His foot keeps moving higher, and I quickly discover that he’s slipped his shoe off when he gets to the inside of my knee.
“Nico,” I warn.
“Here,” he says, spinning his paper around and sliding it to me. He sits back in his chair with a smirk playing on his lips and crosses his arms over his chest.
His foot stops, allowing me to read what he’s written.