The Dean by Cassie Mint
Five
Charlotte
Iwake up curled on my side with a muscled arm banded around my waist. My back is warm, pressed against the ridges of a sculpted chest, and soft breath mists over my neck.
Oh wow.
James is…
He’s holding me like he never wants to let go. Like no force on this earth could tear me from his grip, and holy crap, I love it. I’ve never felt so safe, so cherished. Never woken up so warm and comfy, my head well rested and clear, and my limbs all gooey and languid.
Mewl.
I squint one eye open, peering onto the bedroom floor. Truffle is attacking the bedside lamp cable, pouncing on the black wire and gnawing it with her pinprick teeth.
“Stop it,” I hiss, trying desperately not to move. I don’t want to wake James. The second I do, I know this moment will be over. “Haven’t you done enough, you little menace?”
A deep voice rumbles through my hair. “Truffle’s evil knows no bounds.”
I freeze, my heart pounding. But he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t sit up and make excuses for the way we’ve woken twined around each other. If anything, James gathers me closer to his chest, holding me tight against his body.
Something prods at the small of my back. Something unmistakable.
Something that makes my mouth run dry.
“Did you sleep well?” I murmur, trying desperately to distract myself. If I let myself focus on the hard length pressed against my back, I’ll do something reckless. Like reach behind with greedy fingers. Like rub myself all over it.
“Mm.” James burrows his face in my hair, breathing deeply. And I lie there like an idiot, too stunned to move. The way he’s acting—the things he’s doing—
He doesn’t seem like he finds me repulsive.
I lick my lips, wishing fervently that I could have brushed my teeth before he woke. But that would have meant untangling myself from his grip, leaving his warmth and his possessive hold.
I don’t have that kind of willpower. Not even to hide morning breath.
I can feel the exact moment that James’ brain catches up with his body. He goes rigid behind me, his hand stilling on my waist. His breath comes quicker against my neck.
“Charlotte? Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Cold air washes against my back as he pulls away. He sits up, scrubbing at his face, as the bed covers pool in his lap. “Fuck.”
I guess there’s my answer. But my voice is surprisingly light as I sit up and swing my feet to the floor.
“No worries. It’s natural, right? Instinctive. Um. I’d better shower.” I scoop Truffle up, my cheeks flaming, and hightail it out of that room before he can see the downturn of my mouth.
He didn’t mean it. Didn’t mean any of it.
“You’re in big trouble,” I grumble at my kitten, once we’re safely on the landing. I’ve never been so grateful to shut myself away in my cold, lonely room. I flop onto the bed, my neck still tingling from where his breath tickled me moments ago. “Don’t ever do that again. You hear?”
She purrs at me, blue eyes bright, and sinks her claws in my arm.
* * *I wish I could say things were normal in the office. That James was awkward, maybe, but polite and friendly. That he still called me on the intercom, summoning me to his room, and that he smiled at me on his way out at lunch time for his run.
I wish things were okay between us. But since this morning, James has not once met my eye.
“Men.” I flick a balled up post-it note across my desk, grumbling to myself under my breath. You’d think from the clouds of guilt hanging around that man that we’d done something truly awful. Something unconscionable.
Is it really such a horrifying thought—that he might be intimate with me? I know I’m younger and kind of silly, well meaning but a hot mess. But I’m not a bad person. I pay my taxes; I help old ladies across the street. Hell, I have a stash of chocolate in my desk just for crying students.
Bleh.
James Gibson is going to break my heart. I know it.
“Knock knock.” Leona leans in the doorway to my antechamber, her arms crossed over her chest.
“You can knock properly, you know. You don’t have to say it.”
Leona whistles, long and low, but she’s not offended by my grouchiness. Her eyes crease with concern, and she strolls up to my desk.
“What’s going on? Is it your parents again?”
“No.” I tear another post it off the stack and crumple it into a ball. “No, they haven’t called me lately.”
I know how that sounds—like it would be a sad thing—but the truth is, the less my parents call me, the better. But it’s so whiny, so lame, so I change the topic quickly.
“I’m viewing an apartment later.”
“Nice! Want me to come with?” I start to say no, that James will come with me. But he won’t even look at me right now, seems determined to pretend I don’t exist, and I really don’t want to go into an unknown building with a stranger alone.
“Yes, please.”
“I could bring Mason too if you like? You know. Extra muscle.”
How tragic. I need to borrow my friends’ boyfriends for back up. But it’s smart, so I nod again. “Sure. I’ll get us coffees as a thank you.”
“Oh!” Leona claps her hands, face lighting up. “Come over for a movie after. Everyone’s going to be there.”
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. What’s worse—third wheeling for three sets of couples? Or sitting at home in awkward silence with a man who won’t look at me?
“Sounds good. I’ll bring the popcorn.”
Leona waves a hand. “Stop offering us stuff. We don’t want gifts, we just want you.”
It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. And I must be ovulating or some crap, because tears fill my eyes. Leona watches in horror as I suck in a shaky breath, scrabbling in my drawer for my box of Upset Student tissues.
“Oh shit. I broke you. Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.” I blow my nose, waving her away. “Apartment viewing. Movie night. That all sounds good. Thank you.”
“Shall I fetch Dean Gibson—”
“No!” I squawk, horrified, just as the man himself steps into the doorway. He’s back from his run, though you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. His chest isn’t heaving; his t-shirt isn’t soaked with sweat. The only sign that he’s been exercising at all is a faint sheen of perspiration on his forehead.
He takes one look at me and his face shutters.
“What happened?” he growls.
Leona glances between us, eyes wide. “I’ll, um. I’ll see you later, okay, Charlotte?”
“Yep.” I wave her off. Please god, let this moment be over. “I’ll text you the details.”
“Charlotte,” James warns, like I’m putting him off. Which, okay, I am, but only because for once, this is none of his business.
“I’m allowed to be sad,” I tell him primly. “I’m on my lunch break.”
“But—”
“I need to leave early,” I interrupt. Better to get this over with; to rip off the band aid. “I’m viewing an apartment.”
His shoulders slump. And damn it, he has no right to look so crestfallen. Like he’ll actually miss me when I’m gone; like he wants me destroying his kitchen and sleeping in his bed.
“Is this because of Truffle?” he asks quietly. “Because I don’t care about the plates.”
“No.” I suck in a deep breath. And force myself to be brave and tell the truth. “It’s because of you.”
He jerks, like I’ve slapped him. And I hear it now, what that sounds like. As though I’m accusing him of something terrible, and that’s not it at all.
“I’ve caused you so much trouble,” I rush to say. “And I’m so grateful to you for letting me stay. But I can’t keep getting under your feet. I mean, you wouldn’t even look at me today. I don’t want to ruin all the good things between us.”
He’s shaking his head, scowling, but I push my chair back and stand. “It’s for the best. I’ll, um. I’ll be right back, Dean Gibson.”
He flinches at his title, but I’m not trying to hurt him, damn it. I’m just trying to remind myself of my position here—I’m his assistant. His pesky lodger. And his best friend’s daughter.
That’s all I’ve ever be to James Gibson.
So I have to walk away.
