For all his big talk and mental prep work, Nash was a coward. There he sat, leaning on a campus bench, bundled up in winter gear, as he waited for Eliza to finish her last class of the day. Valentine’s Day loomed, and he just hadn’t found his balls yet to break things off. In fact, he was taking her out tonight for a Sorry-I’m-Such-A-Fuck-Up date because he’d missed so many of their scheduled nights. Much to his surprise, Eliza hadn’t given him much shit. Recently she’d expressed that she’d like to know in advance if he wasn’t planning on showing up, because then she could get on with her school work instead of waiting around for him to arrive—or not.
And he felt like shit for it. Nash wanted to pull away. It was best for Eliza if he did, but he just…couldn’t. Every time he saw her, those beautiful big eyes drew him right back in, and before long he had her bent over a table, his hand making her ass red, and he was desperate to be balls deep in her perfect pussy. To make himself feel a little better, he tried to pass it off as a physical thing, as if wanting to be around her all the time was because he liked fucking her, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. He knew that he stayed with her because he was starting to fall just a little more for her with every visit, and in the end, he was going to hate himself.
Eliza would probably hate him, too.
Swallowing hard, he readjusted the scarf she’d knitted for him recently. Black and thick, it was nothing like the stuff she usually made. If any of the guys in the MC knew he was fucking a girl who liked to knit him stuff, they’d never let him hear the end of it. But he liked the scarf. Practical. Durable. It blended with the rest of his usual dark attire, and if he shoved it to his face and inhaled deeply, he’d catch a whiff of Eliza’s sweet floral scent.
She was running a little late that afternoon, but he really couldn’t give her any shit for it. She could be as late as she wanted, and it still wouldn’t compare to all the times he’d stood her up. A couple strolled by him, backpacks on, smiles plastered on their faces, hands clasped. The guy looked at his gal in the most adoring way possible as she talked and then threw her head back in laughter. Eliza ought to be with a guy like that—someone who worshipped her in a more traditional way. Nash did it through pain and punishment. He showed her just how valuable she was by binding her, gagging her, then making her come until she couldn’t see straight anymore.
He sighed heavily. It was a “green” February; most of the snow melted away after a week of warm weather. Now it was just gray and ice and bare trees—but still the Blackwoods University campus was pristine. Much cleaner than the rest of Blackwoods anyway. Still, winter was dreary as all hell this year.
But the one shining beacon in all the gray was the woman he was waiting for. Eliza stood out like a firefly in the inky black of night. He spotted her immediately as she made her way out of one of the few law buildings, wearing her vibrant pink wool cap and her yellow winter jacket. His little bundle of sunshine. A spark in his otherwise black life. Nash straightened up at the sight of her, then bit down on his back teeth when he realized she wasn’t alone—again.
His hands curled to fists at the sight of Professor Holstein—James Holstein, specifically. From what Nash gathered, the guy was the pinnacle of youthful intellectualism, flying through his academic life and earning a coveted position teaching by the time he was thirty.
Oh, and did he mention the professor was handsome as fuck? Magazine cover worthy? Because he was. And Eliza was spending way too much time with him. Dropping in for office hours. Helping him organize study sessions. The number of times James Holstein had come up in casual conversation was starting to grate on Nash’s fucking nerves, but he kept his temper in check. If he had plans to distance himself from Eliza, why get all up in arms about some preppy academic dick she seemed enamored with? What did it matter to him, really?
Nash pushed himself off the bench, tossing his cigarette on the hard, frozen ground and stomping out the embers. A passing student shot him a look that said she disproved of his littering, but he ignored her. If she wanted to make a scene, let her. Nash welcomed the opportunity to snap at someone in that moment. But she kept on going, and he turned his attention back to Eliza, back to the bright dash of color in an otherwise sea of blah.
She stood there for a moment, clutching her laptop in its beautiful leather case to her chest, smiling at her professor as he talked. Nash itched for another cigarette, but Eliza didn’t like kissing him when he stunk of smoke. Instead, he popped a mint and waited, arms crossed, until she was finished. Seconds felt like hours, however, and by the time she started toward him, he’d been biting down so hard on his back teeth that his jaw hurt.
Shake it off, man. Don’t get wrapped up in such petty bullshit.
Squaring his shoulders, he couldn’t help but return her smile, though his wasn’t quite the mega-watt grin that hers was. Instead, he gave a half-annoyed little half-smile as she bounced over to him, leaning down to let her kiss his cheek once she was near enough.
God, she smelled good. Just like the perfumey scent that lingered on his scarf. Briefly, he thought about burying his face in her neck and inhaling her, just to force the tension out of his body, but then decided against it. Because, over her head, he spied that jackass professor, his hands in his pockets, watching unashamedly, and Nash opted to do what any red-blooded American male would do in the face of such idiocy: he kissed Eliza. Long and deep, the kiss felt like he was swallowing her whole, claiming her, as his lips ravaged her sweet little mouth for all to see. She squirmed in his arms, making a sound that was somewhere between a half moan and a squeal of protest.
“Nash!” she exclaimed, swatting at his chest and stepping away once he let her go. “Not on campus!”
He could tell she was trying to look serious, angry even, but she couldn’t pull that crap with him. Cheeks flushed, lips arched up into a giddy smile, Eliza looked perfectly content to be ravished by him. He pushed her long, blonde locks over her shoulder, his cock stiffening at the thought of wrapping them around his hand while he fucked her relentlessly.
But not tonight. Not now, anyway. They had reservations at a restaurant downtown to help sweeten his apology over his terrible attendance record lately, then they were off to an arcade next door. It’d been Eliza’s idea—something different, something fun. Nash would rather shove a fork in his eye and spend the night in the ER than go to an arcade, but he’d agreed because she’d seemed so excited about it.
“Sorry,” he offered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders instead. “I was just excited to see you.”
“Well, my dad won’t be excited if one of my professors tells him I’m canoodling with some gruff-looking biker in the middle of campus,” she fired back, her voice a little shaky as she spoke. Just as he thought: he’d affected her.
“Of course not,” Nash agreed, doing his best to keep a serious expression as she shot him a sidelong look. “I’ll keep it PG…for now.”
Her blush grew worse at the insinuation, and Nash knew he had her right where he wanted her.
Which shouldn’t have been at his side, but she felt so good nestled against him, her delicate arm snug around his midsection. All he wanted to do was throw her on the nearest picnic bench and have his evil way with her. Instead, he walked her to the car, forcing himself to ask her how her day was and to tell him about all of her classes. If he just thought about sex and hinted at all the things he wanted to do to her, he’d just fall harder and deeper. Keep it surface level. Keep it safe.
The least he could do was try.