Page 139 of Lessons in Cruelty

He stares at me, blinks, then laughs. “Jesus,” he murmurs. “I forget how jaded you kids are.”

“Call me a kid again, Boomer.”

Waving his hand, Bastian sits back again and takes another sip of his wine. “Slip of the tongue. Did you get through today’s material?”

I nod enthusiastically. “I’m sad I missed the group discussion. How did it go?”

He shrugs too. Shakes his head. “Would have gone a lot better if you were there. I rarely hear a new perspective these days.”

“And I’d have given this new perspective?” I’m frowning as I take another sip.

The wine is a lot tarter than I’d expected, but it’s not awful. There’s a hint of something woody left behind on my tongue after every sip, which I quite like. I’m not sure if it’s intentional, but it seems to complement the earthiness of the mushrooms in the pasta.

Or I just ate some really good food, and the booze is starting to loosen the strings always wrapping me up so tight.

“Of course.” He holds out his hand again. “No offense, but most of the kids I teach are impatiently waiting for their trust funds to mature so they can jet off to Europe for a year.”

“I’m both offended and appalled.”

“By their generational wealth?”

“By your assumptions.” I sniff, leaning back as I take a sip of wine. This pasta is filling, but I’m not done with my bowl yet. “I could go to Europe if I wanted.”

He cocks a dark, silver-streaked eyebrow. “I’m not following.”

“It’s easy. I just need to find me a sugar daddy, open an OnlyFeet account—“ I snap my fingers “—I’ll be rolling in it.”

Bastian frowns. “OnlyFeet,” he repeats woodenly.

“Yeah.” I nod, taking another sip.

I’m really enjoying this wine now. And despite the not-so-subtle reminders Bastian keeps tossing my way, I feel mature and worldly holding this big glass, its ice cubes clinking gently against the sides.

My professor is still frowning.

“What? You don’t think my feet are pretty enough?”

“Last I saw them, they were covered in mud.”

My mouth falls open as I stab a finger at him. “You promised.”

He flashes me a smile, lifting one hand in surrender. “My apologies.” Then he sets down his glass and spreads his hands wide. “Shall I compare thee feet to a summer’s day? Thou feet art more lovely, and more separate.”

“Wow,” I whisper, setting my glass down a little harder than I’d wanted to. “Okay, I’m totally hiring you to run my OnlyFeet account.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a long sip of wine.

Fuck me.

The mischievous twinkle in his eyes makes me squeeze my thighs together. I’m trying to stifle the sudden tingle between them, but it only makes it worse.

And he’s still looking at me, his gaze sly like he’s thinking all sorts of things he shouldn’t be.

“So I think you’ve dragged this out long enough,” I say, clearing my throat halfway through because, for some reason, it’s all clogged up with embarrassment. “Go on. Tell me why I’m here.”

The look in his warm brown eyes changes.

This. This is the reason I let him lure me here.