What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(78)

I thought the damage my wolf had inflicted was permanent, irreversible, detrimental.

But Reese kissed me and brought me back to life. He touched me and I took what felt like my first breath.

I didn’t know how I could ever properly tell him everything that last night meant to me.

Reese groaned when I deepened the kiss, hands fisting in his hair and pulling until he was on top of me, his core between my legs. Just thinking about last night made me want him again, made me want even more. Now that I’d been awakened, I was thirsty, hungry — an absolute fiend.

He broke away when I thrust my hips, gasping at the feel of his hard-on against my middle. His pants were the only thing between us, and I wanted them gone.

“You’re killing me, woman,” he breathed, kissing my nose before he propped himself up on his elbows again.

“I want you,” I whispered, trying to pull him back into me.

“And you have me,” he said. He pulled my hand from where it was trailing down between us, kissing my fingertips and holding them to his lips as he watched me. The morning sun played on the emerald flecks in his irises, and his pupils danced as they flicked between my own. “What happened last night?”

“I mean… do you want me to give you a play by play, or should we just relive it…” I tried to roll my hips again, but Reese growled, kissing me hard before propping himself up again. He slid down, putting his abs at my middle instead of his erection, desperate to put space between us.

I pouted.

“I meant, what happened before I got home?” he clarified. “You came to play the song. And you’d been crying.”

I sighed, the not-so-fond memories of last night making my chest ache. I stared at where Reese held my fingers to his lips, wishing we could focus on that part of the evening, instead.

“I called my old roommate,” I said after awhile. “Remember, the one I was telling you about that I completely left behind when I walked out of Bramlock?”

Reese nodded.

I continued staring at his lips, feeling how soft they were under the pad of my fingers. “I called her and caught her up on everything… well, almost everything,” I amended. “I talked to her about being here. About you. But I left out why I wasn’t at Bramlock anymore.”

Reese smirked. “What did you say about me?”

“I’m not telling you that,” I said, cheeks heating. “It’s girl talk. Very private.”

“You told her how hot your teacher is, didn’t you?”

I scoffed at that. “Please. She already knows what you look like. Like I said, there are videos of you online, mister.”

He frowned. “I feel like there’s some sort of invasion of privacy happening with that, voyeurism, even… but whatever.”

“Anyway,” I said, smiling as he kissed my fingertips again. “Everything was great at first. We caught up, she gave me some advice on how I was feeling about you being out on a date…”

His eyebrows shot up. “What kind of feelings were you having?”

“Again, not the point,” I said, but the smile he’d elicited fell as I spoke the next words. “At the end of our call, she invited me back to Bramlock.”

Reese was quiet, watching me, waiting.

I swallowed. “She invited me back because Wolfgang has been given a prestigious award, one that our university is very picky about bestowing on anyone. They’re having a big ceremony for him… and I know it probably sounds stupid, but I just… I couldn’t breathe when I heard that. I saw black. I hung up on Reneé, then I threw up, and then I was just crying, and I… I thought about the song… and about my dad… and then, I ended up here.”

So many emotions passed over Reese’s face as I spoke — anger, understanding, sorrow, empathy. But it went back to anger after a long moment, his jaw clenched tight and nostrils flaring before he spoke. “That motherfucker got an award? How is he even still allowed to fucking teach?”

My eyes fell to his chest. “Well… it’s not like anyone knows what happened.”

I didn’t have to look at him again to know he was watching me with questions in his eyes, or maybe with murder. To him, I imagined, it probably seemed so easy. Get raped? Call the police.

But that just wasn’t how it worked.

“I tried to tell someone,” I clarified. “I just… the person I told said we should keep it between us. And it wasn’t just a friend or something… it was the music director. She had power, she could have helped me… but… well, she didn’t have to say the exact words for me to hear everything she wasn’t saying.” I shrugged. “He’s Wolfgang Edison. It would have been my word against his, and who’s going to believe a young, black female against an old, prestigious, award-winning, white, male piano legend?”

“Me,” Reese said without pause. “I believe you. And I know I wouldn’t be the only one.”

My heart swelled, beating with an unfamiliar emotion at his certainty, his unyielding belief.

“What if we went to the police together,” he offered. “We could—”

“No,” I said, shaking my head firmly. “This isn’t up for debate, Reese.” I lifted my eyes to his again. “I’m sorry, but it’s not. Okay? I don’t want to tell anyone about it. And I trust that you never will, either.”