Beyond What is Given(121)



“Can I take you somewhere?” he asked against my mouth.

“Anywhere,” I answered.

He set me back on my feet and held my hand as we walked toward the parking lot. “Will your car be okay?”

“Yeah, we can leave it here,” I said, gesturing to where it sat parked a few spaces down from his truck. “You drove? All the way from North Carolina?”

He squeezed my hand. “I did.”

“Let me grab my charger out of my car?” I asked.

“No problem. I’ll start the truck.”

I yanked the charger from the port, anxious to be alone with Grayson and yet more relaxed than I had been since Alabama.

“Sam.”

The back of my head met my doorframe. “Shit!” I grabbed the offended area and turned. “You’re not supposed to be speaking to me, Professor Proctor.”

“Since when did that ever keep us apart?” he asked, devil-may-care grin in place as he swatted an errant brown curl like I hadn’t been through hell to get back into this school.

I looked over my shoulder, but Grayson couldn’t see us from here, and Harrison was blocking my exit. “I’m not kidding, Professor Proctor, this is inappropriate.”

He took ahold of my arm. Even through the layers of down that separated us, his touch felt tainted. I shook him off. “Don’t touch me.”

His grin fell away. “Sam, I’m not a professor anymore. You left without a word, without letting me explain. You at least owe me that much.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“Please, give me a chance.”

“Just…stop. What could you possibly hope to get out of talking to me?”

He did his dramatic sigh that I used to think was incredibly romantic. Yeah, that had nothing on the quiet intensity of Grayson simply looking at me, which basically melted my panties right off.

“I miss you.”

“I don’t miss you.” I shrugged, uncaring that another student gawked as she passed. I had nothing to hide this time.

“There was a time you loved me, and I know you could again. I’m thinking of leaving Michelle.”

“I don’t care, Professor. You two, quite frankly, deserve each other. I’m only asking that you stop hurting other people.”

“I’m so sorry I ruined your life. That was never my intention, or any of this humiliation.”

Laughter bubbled up, taking with it the last vestiges of shame or embarrassment as I thought about the envelope I kept securely tucked away in my purse. “You think my life is ruined? How self-centered can you be? Sure, I slept with the wrong man, trusted you, but I’m done paying for that. You knew you were married. I didn’t. I’m going to finish college and be with the man I love. You’re not a factor in my future, but I doubt you can say the same about me. Every time you apply to teach, this will follow you. Every time you look at your wife, this will be between you. What you’ve done will haunt you…not me.”

I shut my door, but Harrison wouldn’t let me pass. Every step I took, he matched. “You haunt me now.”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“No, not until you listen.” I sidestepped his reach again.

Grayson stepped behind Harrison, and the tension drained from me. “Please, give me a f*cking reason to end you. Do it. Put your hand on her again.”

Harrison turned to look up, and up at Grayson. Then he moved to the side as Grayson reached for my hand. I took it and left everything about my past behind as he tucked me under his arm and walked me to his truck.



“Is this really necessary?” I asked, fumbling for the door handle forty-five minutes later. The damn blindfold on my eyes wasn’t helping matters. I heard the door open, and a gust of cold air hit my face.

“Be patient,” Grayson said softly. He undid my seatbelt, then easily lifted me into a bridal carry.

We paused, and I heard another door open, then close as warmth surrounded us. “Well, at least we’re inside,” I teased. There was a faint echo. Where the hell were we? I could feel his heartbeat jump through our coats. “Are you nervous? Because your heart is racing, and I know you’re not tired from carrying me. Hell, I bet you could carry me for an hour and still not get tired.”

He stayed silent, which was enough to almost make me rip off the blindfold. Whatever we were doing was obviously way outside his comfort zone.

“We’re here,” he said as he gently set me on my feet. “I’m going to take off your shoes.”

He dropped, leaving my hands on his shoulders for balance. Then he slipped off my boots one by one. The floor was cool and hard under my socks.

“We might need to work on your foreplay.”

He laughed softly, and the tension dissipated from his shoulders. He stood, and right after I heard a squeaking sound, I felt a soft pressure at the top of my head, and the distinct scent of…magic marker?

He kissed my lips with a reverence that had me aching for more as he pulled back and turned me around. The blindfold slipped free. “Okay, take a look.”

I blinked several times, letting my eyes adjust. A door stood open in front of me with a black line etched into a spot on the left panel that read “Samantha.” Farther left was another line marked “Grayson,” with today’s date written between them.

Rebecca Yarros's Books