Dark Notes(103)
He drags his free hand down his face, his expression pained. The secrecy of our relationship, seeing me sick, leaving me alone, all of it torments him.
I lean in and kiss his mouth, wishing my teeth were clean. “This is embarrassing enough without your hawk eyes all up in my business.”
It’s really not that bad. I’m well-adjusted to his invasiveness. Whether I’m on my period or using the bathroom, he has no concept of personal boundaries, always hovering, interrogating, and examining me inside and out. I get it, though. Because I’m just as obsessed with him.
Straightening my back, I use one of his favorite commands. “Go.”
I expect his jaw to harden and his voice to crack the walls in his outrage. But what I find in his eyes is something wholly different. Something that’s been expanding between us for months, doubling in size when we’re together, and growing in strength when we’re apart. As if finally bold enough, everything we’ve ever felt for one another gathers into one monumental sentiment and shines from his gaze.
He wraps his hands around my hips. “I love you.”
There it is. Spoken without fireworks, received without weepy tears, and absorbed without the ricochet of distant thunder.
It’s simple, real, and right there in the open.
In a bathroom.
I grip his face, eyes connected, hearts beating in sync. “You waited until now to tell me that?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “It’s not like you didn’t already know.”
“Yeah, but a girl doesn’t forget the first time her crush says those words.” I fight a grin. “I’ll always remember this moment with the image of a toilet seat imprinting a ring on my ass.”
He rests his forehead against mine. “Did you say crush?”
“Not just any crush.” I touch our lips together. “A crush on my hot teacher, who also happens to be my cocky Master. And the man I love.”
Doesn’t matter if I’m sitting on a toilet, splayed on his piano, or straddling his lap. This is our secret world, and it’s more meaningful than every aspiration I’ve ever set for myself. Our relationship isn’t practical or convenient. And it’s not just physical. We need each other, not because our bodies fit so well together, but because our hearts beat the same tune, for the same reason.
“Say it,” he breathes.
“I love you.” I’m not the first woman who’s said those words to him, but I’ll make damn sure I’m the last. I comb my fingers through his hair. “The kind of love that doesn’t end in betrayal.”
His hands clench against my hips. “It won’t end at all. Ever.”
He kisses me passionately, achingly, his mouth molding against mine as if trying to convey the depth of his words. He kisses me until my bladder howls again.
Lingering longer than he should, he tucks me into bed and piles the nightstand with food and water. Then he leaves the room and returns a few minutes later with Schubert bundled in his arms.
I curl on my side, grinning despite the discomfort. “You thought of everything.”
“Not everything.” Settling Schubert beside me, he pets the kitty into a lazy purr of contentment. “I haven’t figured out a way to stay home with you.”
“You’re late, Mr. Marceaux. Get out of here.”
He presses a longing kiss to my lips. “Dad has his own code to get in, so stay up here. Get some sleep. He’ll be by soon.”
I close my eyes and stroke Schubert, trying to ignore the irritating urge to pee again. I sense Emeric hovering in the doorway for a silent moment before his footsteps fade down the hall.
The beep of the alarm tells me he armed it. The slam of the door punctuates his frustration about leaving.
Sleep pulls me under within minutes. It’s a disorienting, uncomfortable kind of slumber that bounces me between awareness and dreamland. Minutes pass, or maybe hours, as my mind replays Emeric’s tenderness while my body begs me to release my bladder.
At some point, the alarm system sounds its thirty-second entry delay, snapping my eyes open. I force myself up and make a mad dash to the toilet. After a great amount of trickling relief and scorching pain, I debate hunting down a pair of shorts. At the very least, I should put on underwear.
Fuck it. I’m sick, he’s a doctor, and the closet is too damn far away. Stretching the t-shirt down my thighs, I roll beneath the covers and wait for the blessed delivery of medicine.
I must’ve fallen asleep. Schubert leaps off the bed, startling me into a blinking state of grogginess as I try to make sense of the silhouette in the doorway.
Blue jeans. Black V-neck t-shirt. Dark skin. Beefed-up arms… I stare at the Destroy tattoo on his neck and choke.
Am I dreaming? Having a nightmare? This can’t be real. Inwardly, I give myself a once-over. My heart is pounding, lungs panting, throat tight. This is really happening. A spasm convulses through my body.
Lorenzo stares right back with wide eyes. “You’re supposed to be at school.”
Ice saturates my veins as I scramble backward, dragging the sheet with me. “You’re supposed to be in jail!”
He cocks his head and takes a step into the room. “How do you know about that?”
“Why are you here? What do you want?” With rasping breaths, I shove a hand beneath the covers and dig around. Where’s my phone? Fuck, I know Emeric left it right next to me. Where is it? Where is it?