Page 54 of She’s Worth the Risk

Nick withdraws his hand, and I stuff down the disappointment that rises inside me. I’m here to apologize, not make the situation worse.

“Listen, uh, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

His brows rise, but he doesn’t say anything, so I forge ahead.

“I should never have said what I did in the stairwell at the Met.” I take a slug of wine for courage. “You’re my professor, and I respect you a lot. I’m sorry I crossed a line.”

Nick’s eyes move between mine, his expression unreadable. He lifts his glass to his mouth for a slow sip, then finally says, “I can’t accept your apology.”

My stomach plummets. Of course he can’t. I was so out of line that day. I’ve been out of line from the start, haven’t I? Pushing him in life drawing, teasing him at Joe’s, clinging to him during the blackout. I’ve crossed the line one too many times, and he’s finally had enough.

“I can’t accept it,” Nick repeats, gaze pinned on mine, “because you were right.”

“Right?” I repeat uncertainly.

He nods. “I lied, Zinnia.” His grip tightens on his glass. “Of course I feel this.”

My pulse surges. “You do?”

He stares at me hard, as if fighting some internal battle, then his gaze sweeps the length of my body, and I feel it as if it were his hands. My blood heats, a shiver of want passing through me as he brings his dark eyes back to mine.

“Yes,” he rasps. “Fuck yes.”

I suck in a shuddering breath. Is this really happening? I don’t want to push him, but I have to hear him say it. I have to know.

“Then tell me,” I plead. “Tell me, Nick.”

“Fine, you want me to say it?” he growls. “You want to hear that I look forward to life drawing every week, just so I can look at you? That I go to Joe’s early on purpose, just for a few minutes to talk to you? That all I can think about is capturing your perfect curves with my pencil?” He stops, dragging a hand through his hair, and when he speaks again, his voice is low and desperate. “That I can’t get you out of my fucking head?”

Holy shit.

I stare at him in disbelief, heart thundering. I knew he felt it too, but not like this. I’ve never seen him so undone. He’s finally, finally letting himself feel something, and fuck me if it isn’t the hottest thing ever. If I thought I wanted him before, it’s multiplied by a thousand now.

“Nick,” I whisper urgently, hand landing on his arm to draw him closer, but he shakes his head, exhaling heavily.

“None of that changes the fact that you’re my student.”

Goddammit.

I swallow, forcing myself to pull away. He’s right. I know that hasn’t changed, and I don’t want him to do anything that would jeopardize his career.

But I also know this: “I won’t be your student in a week.”

His eyes flash with heat, as if he hadn’t considered that. His gaze falls helplessly to my mouth, and I feel him waver, caught between doing what’s right and what’s oh-so-deliciously wrong.

“Nick!” a voice calls from across the bar.

He blinks, as if coming out of a trance, glancing over his shoulder to a booth full of guys. So that’s why he’s here. One of them waves him over, and he blows out a breath, dropping his head.

“I have to go.”

I watch him drain his glass before sliding reluctantly off the barstool. It’s all I can do not to grab his hand and tug him back to me, not to kiss him like I desperately want to. Need to.

Instead, I take my glass of wine and walk on wobbly legs to the women in the booth, trying my best to appear normal, but I don’t think I’m doing a very good job. My hands shake as I take a sip of wine, and Violet leans in.

“What happened?”

“He told me he has feelings for me,” I say. Maybe I should lie, but honestly, I’m not sure I could keep this inside if I tried.