Closing the space between us, I drop my bag into the empty chair where Sharon sat last time. “I’m sorry to bother you. I wanted to thank you for giving me anAon the assignment.”
“I didn’tgiveyou anA. You earned it.”
“I’m not sure that’s entirely true, but I appreciate you saying it. I appreciate you believing in me. No one ever has before.”
The muscle in his jaw moves, and concern is in his pretty hazel eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s not your fault.” I look down at my hands, walking slowly past him into the smaller office with the desk I dream of defiling. “During your lecture, I was wondering if that’s why I struggle sometimes with my grades. I’m like the children who only see violence growing up. I’ve learned to only expect failure.”
He follows me into the small room and stops at my back. The heat of his body lights up every part of my core, and when he lifts his hand, my eyes close at the thought he’ll touch me. At the last minute, he seems to think better of it, going around the desk instead.
“In this field, we know not to say that things are all in your mind.” He takes a seat, and I sit across from him frustrated by his restraint. “However, I can tell you as a teacher and an experienced professional, you demonstrated an understanding of the concepts that surpassed your classmates.”
“My nightmares have returned,” I blurt, wasting no time. “They started the first night I was back on campus, and they’re getting stronger. I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up with my assignments if they don’t stop.”
The more I say, the tighter his brow grows, the more concern brims in his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear you’re having nightmares. Are they about your father?”
Dropping my eyes to my lap, I nod. “My father, my cousin, the violence I endured after he was killed when I was sent to live with my uncle.”
He flinches as if from a memory. “Childhood trauma can be difficult to overcome. Mental health services are included in your tuition. I could help you get an appointment with a counselor, maybe you could try sleeping pills.”
“Pills don’t work for me.”
“I’m afraid that’s the best I can offer.”
Blinking up at him, I hesitate. “I always have trouble when I'm alone at night. I don’t think humans are meant to sleep alone. We’re social creatures, aren’t we?”
“We are.”
“Do you sleep alone, Professor Winston?” My question is quiet, a shared secret.
“Again, this isn’t appropriate—”
“It’s not right for a man so strong and virile to be celibate.”
He rises from the chair, walking around to where I sit and holding out his hand. “I’ll help you get an appointment with a counselor. I’ll email you the information. That’s all.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“Who?”
“Your graduate assistant.” A bite is in my tone. “She’s totally into you. I could see it last time I visited.”
“No.” He’s angry now, and I meet him with my own frustrated anger, taunting him.
“She’s just giving you blow jobs?”
“Stop it, Reanna.” His eyes flash.
Stepping closer, I put my hand on his chest, loving the heat of his body through the thin cotton. “You’re the first man who’s ever seen me.”
“I doubt that.” A harsh laugh scrapes from his throat.
“It’s true. You understand how I feel because you’ve lost someone, too. You know how hard it is to trust, to believe you won’t get hurt again.” Again, speaking the words, I realize how true they are. “You could teach me that.”
Two hands grip my upper arms, and he moves me away. “I’m not doing this. I’m not risking my reputation or my job for this.”
Falling back, I pull my lower lip into my mouth, studying his eyes. Reaching out, I take my bag and slip it over my shoulder, walking slowly to the door.