Cassian
I hadn’t planned on touching Elvie. God knew I had tried to maintain every boundary a professor and a man in my position was supposed to keep. But when she whispered the word No after I asked if leaving my room was really what she wanted, I lost every shred of control I had left. I didn’t want to force anything on her; I needed to make sure this crazy, dirty desire I was feeling was entirely mutual.
That was why I had asked her to be certain. When she gave silence as her answer, her dark eyes clouded with the exact same raw desire consuming me, I couldn’t hold myself back for another second.
And if that goddamn doorbell hadn’t rung, I sure as hell was going to bend her over my bed, part her legs, and finger her until she forgot every single doubt in her head.
I adjusted the painful hardness strain behind my robe, taking fast, heavy strides down the stairs toward the front door.
I yanked the door open to reveal a young man holding a box. "Y—your delivery, sir," He stammered.
I glared down at him, fighting a sudden, absurd urge to throw something at his head just for showing up at the absolute worst possible moment. Rationally, I didn’t blame him, he was just doing his job and had no idea what kind of sinful act he had just interrupted upstairs but rational thought was currently dead last on my list.
"Sign here, please," the young man said, nervously extending a pad.
I snatched the pen and scribbled a jagged signature across the line.
"Enjoy your pizza, sir," he offered awkwardly, taking a step back.
I didn’t even bother replying before I slammed the door shut right in his face. The absolute bullshit of it. The only thing I wanted to enjoy tonight was fingering Elvie, not any goddamn pizza.
Raking a hand through my still damp hair, I dropped the box onto the dining table with a heavy thud, taking a slow, steadying breath to force the dark frustration down.
The sound of footsteps emerging from the stairs made me lift my head, my eyes locking on Elvie.
She stopped on the last step, her hand lingering on the banister like she was ready to turn around and run back upstairs at any second. Her pajama pants were pulled neatly back into place, but her cheeks were still flushed a deep crimson, and her lips remained swollen from where she’d been biting them.
She looked tiny standing there. And I was sure she’d look even more fitting under me—
Control, Cassian. I reminded myself, forcing my jaw to relax as I stood by the table.
The heat in my blood was still pulsing, hot and demanding, but seeing the hesitant, skittish look in her eyes brought the cold, hard wall of rationality slamming back into place.
Crossing that line upstairs had been effortless—a total surrender to the friction. But now the reality of who we were to each other hung heavily in the space between us.
"Food is here," I said, my voice coming out rougher and lower than I intended. I cleared my throat, forcing my tone into a calm, composed baseline. "Come eat before it gets cold."
Elvie nodded quickly, avoiding my gaze entirely. She stepped off the stairs and practically crept over to the dining table, taking the chair furthest from where I was standing.
I pulled out a chair and sat down across from her, unceremoniously flipping open the pizza box. The awkwardness was suffocating, so different from the wild, unrestrained heat that had filled my bedroom just three minutes ago.
The scent of melted cheese and garlic filled the room, but neither of us made a move for a slice immediately.
"Elvie," I began quietly. She flinched slightly at the sound of her name. She looked at me for barely two seconds before he eyes drop down to the wooden table.
"We need to eat. And then you’re going to get a good night’s sleep."
Fuck! I didn’t know why I said the last statement. It’s not like I was going to get a good sleep after this.
Maybe I should have apologize. But apologizing would imply I regretted touching her, and I wasn’t about to lie to her face or to myself. However, setting the boundary back up for the night was the only responsible thing left to do.
I watched her swallow and gave a small nod. "Okay."
I wanted to bring up the topic from earlier in the car, when she had mentioned feeling immature—about someone saying something to her. I didn’t know what was running through her head or what bullshit whoever that person had fed her, but I sure as hell wouldn’t allow her to think any less of herself.
Nevertheless, we ate in a quiet, heavy silence, both of us hyper-aware that whatever had happened in my bedroom was far from over.
**
"I appreciate it. Just make sure the package isn’t late like last time," I said into the phone, leaning back in my office chair. I listened as the dealer made his promises. "Good. Thank you."
I ended the call and placed the phone on my wooden desk. The piece I had just bought was a rare mid-century oil painting that I had been trying to get for months. Even though my last delivery from that art gallery was delayed, I still bought it.
Collecting art wasn’t just a hobby for me; it was something I deeply cared about. Art showed real feelings that people usually hid. My big goal was to open an art foundation one day—a place that would support real talent and give young artists a true chance.
My thoughts were cut short when my phone started buzzing loudly on the desk. I looked at the screen, and the name on the display made my jaw lock instantly.
I let it ring two more times before I answered and placed the phone to my ear. I stayed silent, waiting for him to speak first.
"Cassian," My brother’s voice came through, full of annoyance. "Why did you raise a disciplinary complaint against Asher?"
A slow, bitter smile touched my lips. Oh, so he finally had the nerve to call me, simply because it involved his precious son.
"Hello to you too, brother," I said mockingly, letting the silence stretch for a beat. The fact that he called me directly without even checking if it was actually my doing showed just how arrogant and selfish he was.
"He is your nephew! You don’t put a mark on his record over some silly campus nonsense!"
Listening to him rant was pissing me off. The only reason I had filed that disciplinary measure in the first place was because of Elvie. Last night had nagged at my mind until I couldn’t ignore it and it drove me to pull up my findings.
I knew Asher and Elvie had grown up together and are very close. I don’t know what has gone wrong along the way but seeing the way Asher had cornered her, looming over her and intimidation clearly written in his stance had pushed me over the edge.
It made me realize that Asher might have been the reason Elvie was out of Norman’s house in the first place.
Norman clearly didn’t care about what Elvie went through or why she left, yet here he was, having the audacity to call and lecture me about his golden boy.
"He went too far," I cut in sharply, my voice dropping an octave as a dangerous possessiveness flared in my chest. "Just because I’m his uncle doesn’t mean I’m going to let him act however he wants on this campus. He follows the rules, or he gets punished."
"You are making a big deal out of nothing—"
I wanted to throw Elvie’s name right in his face. I wanted to demand why he had stood by and let her leave his home with nowhere else to go. But I held back. Bringing her up now would only raise questions I wasn’t ready to answer, and I had zero patience for my brother’s bullshit today.
"The report stays, Norman," I interrupted. "Teach your son how to behave, or I’ll do it for you."
Without waiting for his reply, I hung up and slammed the phone onto my desk.