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Only then did another hint of recognition rush into my mind’s eye. Holy shit. She was in my class. She tried to walk away from me, but I grabbed her arm, jerking her close to me once again. “What’s your name?”
She acted as if she wasn’t going to give it to me, the fire in her huge doe eyes able to light up half of Chicago.
“Tell me now.”
“My name is Sara Adams. I’m one of your straight-A students and the girl interviewing for a position as your assistant, Professor Saint. No matter what you think, I’m not a call girl.”
Her admittance rang in my ears to the point I was dumbfounded. Her rebellious nature was also not what I’d expected.
However, I’d just crossed a line I’d promised myself years before than I would never allow. I could tell she was waiting for me to say something, anything like I was sorry I’d confused her with someone else, but it wasn’t the kind of man I was or ever would be.
In fact, as I studied her now, coming to grips with the change in the scenario, I realized that I wanted her more now than I had before.
I’d noticed her in class, although she appeared entirely different inside the lecture hall, even more innocent than the girl standing in front of me. I was riding a fine line with the rules imposed on every professor, but with graduation days away, perhaps I could keep my job.
Not that I really gave a shit at this point.
Yes, no wonder Marcus and I were buddies.
I’d used the job as an excuse to get the fuck away from my family’s dark legacy, only to be lured back time and time again. The ugly truth that I couldn’t deny any longer was that I craved the violence, the bloodshed, and the power that came with being a member of the dangerous mafia empire.
And if the girl had listened to any of the rumors floating around about me, she’d know her desire to work with me was extremely risky.
However, I had to give her props. She was defiant, refusing to back down, acting as if I owed her something.
Perhaps I did, but not anything like what she was thinking.
I wanted to own her. Every. Single. Inch. I wanted her to surrender to my darkest needs, becoming the perfect woman like I’d always dreamed of but had never found.
Yes, perhaps she was the perfect subject.
Now, what the hell was I going to do about it?
CHAPTER 7
Sara
How long did it take a woman to get over being fucked like an animal by a man she’d fantasized about for far too long?
And for all the wrong reasons?
I wasn’t certain but other than taking the second to last exam of the semester, I’d remained locked inside my room. Thankfully, I’d already taken off from work for a few days so I could concentrate on studying.
Not that I’d done a lot of that.
I’d hidden under the covers, which wasn’t like me in the least. But I wasn’t certain how to handle the situation. I’d ignored phone calls and even a knock at my dorm room door. I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone.
Worst of all was that my sinful thoughts about the man lingered long after I’d left his house. Maybe I was nuts, but it had appeared he’d truly had no clue who I was. None. That made the situation that much more surreal.
Or maybe fragile.
Since I blew the interview, at least all I needed to do was to hold my head high when I walked into the lecture hall, writing a story about whatever subject the good professor wanted. If I could even find anything to write about at all. I had a sick feeling all I’d be doing would be leering at him, envisioning just how thick his cock was.
And how amazing of a kisser he was.
And how much I craved the feel of having him deep inside.
“Get a fucking clue, girl,” I whispered out loud as I fought my nerves, which I’d been doing all morning. One last test and I could effectively disappear from the man’s life, never to see him again.
