Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
He was already flirting outrageously with me in class. I didn’t need that kind of scandal, and I was sure he didn’t either.
I let myself in the front door, set all my things down, and headed to the kitchen. I realized there were no more tomatoes on the windowsill, so I needed to pick some more from the vine in my backyard. I walked across the deck and down the three steps to the small backyard, then froze.
There was a man lying face down in the yard. I took another step, my mind rejecting what I was seeing. It wasn’t just any man; it was Alex.
My heart skipped a beat as I raced to him. Dear God, please don’t let him be dead. The smell of alcohol wafted off him, and I told myself he was just drunk. What the hell was he doing here?
I pressed my fingers to his neck and felt a rapid pulse. He stirred, then coughed and raised up on his hands and knees.
“Oh shit,” he said, and then he vomited as though he were expelling everything that had ever been in his body.
“I don’t feel good,” he said when he finished and slumped back over.
No shit. “What the fuck are you doing here, Alex? And why are you drunk at six o’clock on a Monday?”
“Not just drunk… Drugged. Somebody… drugged me. Thought you’d… help.”
His breathing was shallow and rough, and he was so fucking pale. The cut on his cheek stood out against his white cheeks, looking even worse.
“What do you mean, drugged you? Like roofied?”
“Don’t know. Just don’t feel right.”
“Shit.” I bent down and managed to lift him into my arms. “Don’t you dare puke on my suit.”
He laughed, which made me worry a little less, but he lost consciousness again while I carried him inside. I laid him on the couch and called his name. He didn’t respond. Against my better judgment, I laid a hand against the uninjured side of his face. “Alex, are you with me? Come on, wake up.”
He opened his eyes and stared up at me. His pupils dilated, and his tongue crept out and moistened his lips. I needed to stand up, to move back. He wasn’t going to die. He just needed a little time to recover before I sent him home. But I couldn’t move. I was trapped there by his gaze.
This was ridiculous. He was too young. I was his professor. I should never have brought him into my house, but the way he looked at me, with uncertainty and heat, went straight to my cock.
“Thank you, Professor.”
“You’re welcome.”
He started to sit up, but I pushed him back down. “Just lie there. I don’t want you passing out again.”
“The room is spinning.”
“Yeah, I bet it is. What the hell were you doing in my yard?”
He looked around the room. “I was in your yard?”
“Yes. Don’t you remember? I just brought you inside.” Maybe he had been drugged.
“No. I… I was in my room, and then…”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
He frowned. “You said you brought me inside.”
“I wasn’t going to let you die on my lawn. How would that look?”
He tilted his head like he was considering it. “Not good?”
“Exactly. I brought you inside out of self-preservation.”
He paused to consider my words again. “No, I think you’re my friend.”
Was I?
Fuck yes. And you want to be more. You want to teach him some lessons. Make him do exactly what you ask.
“Dr. Theriot?”
Shit. I had to answer him. “You may as well call me Dante while we’re here.”
“Dante. I like that.”
And I liked hearing him say it. “Do you really think you were drugged?”
“Yeah. I must’ve been.”
I frowned and pressed my fingers against the pulse point in his wrist. He sucked in a breath, and I forced myself not to look at him as I counted the beats. His pulse was still a little high, but not outrageously so. His skin was cold and clammy though, and I didn’t like it. No one should be cold after lying outside in this heat. “Do you think you can drink some water without throwing up?”
“Maybe. I feel a little better now.”
“All right. Stay right there. Do not try to get up. I don’t need you passing out and hitting your head on something.”
He frowned and pressed his fingers against his forehead. “I think I hit my head last night. I haven’t really been thinking right all day.”
“I don’t think you’ve been thinking right all semester, and apparently, neither have I.” I muttered the last part under my breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
I added a packet of electrolyte powder to his water, stirred it up, and brought it to him.
He took a sip and smiled. “At least it’s not fucking watermelon.”
“Not a fan?”
“I like actual watermelon, but not watermelon-flavored things. That’s the only kind of electrolyte powder my roommate drinks. I don’t even like how it smells.”