My heart is pounding and my thoughts are racing.

I'm not sure what I expect to happen, going to Mr. Gabe's house like this.

You're a big girl, Purity, I remind myself, even as my breath catches in my throat. When a man like him tells you to come to his house, what do you think is going to happen?

Am I ready for that?

I'm not entirely certain.

Yet I'm standing here on his porch, taking a deep breath before I knock on the door. When it opens, he glances behind me to see if anyone is watching before he gestures for me to come inside.

There's something about the subterfuge, about the sneaking around, that makes my heart beat even faster. It makes what's happening even more scandalous and even more exciting because I know he's off-limits.

It's wrong.

I step inside his front door, pausing as I look around and take it all in. I don't even need to go further inside his house to know that the entire thing feels like him, from the deep hardwood floors to the floor-to-ceiling shelves in the library to the right of the entryway. His house even smells like him, like cologne and sandalwood and something else I can't quite place.

"Why did you come here, Purity?" he asks.

How can I answer that question for him when I don't know the answer to that myself?

He doesn't move, nor does he invite me to sit down and stay. He makes no effort to be polite. He just stands there staring at me, looking like he wants to devour me.

"I came here because you asked me to come here."

Because I want you. Because I want what happened Friday to happen again.

I want it to happen over and over, but I want it to go further this time.

"You said you'd teach me today," I remind him, instead of saying any of those things.

"Is that what you want?" He steps closer to me and places one palm beside me against the doorway, looking down at me the same way he did in the pizza restaurant. "When you stopped me, you said you wanted to talk. Is talking what you want to do?"

Does it have to be either, or? Talking or something else?

Can it be both?

"Yes," I whisper. "I mean no, not only talking."

His hand stays still as his other hand goes to my chest, his finger playing at the middle of my cleavage, catching in the V he makes as he pulls the fabric down. My breasts rise as I take in a deep breath. I want Mr. Gabe to touch more than just my shirt. I want him to trace his finger along my breasts, to slide it under my shirt and inside my bra, to feel his fingertip on my nipples the way I felt it on my clit.

The thought of what he did to me on Friday after class makes me warm and dizzy and wanting.

I need him to do it again.

"Yes or no?"

"Yes, I want to talk about what happened on Friday." I blurt out the words as he trails his fingertip up my chest, moving along my collarbone until he reaches the strap of my tank top, hooking it underneath. I think he might be about to tear it off my shoulder.

I think I want him to rip it from my shoulder.

Instead, he puts his hand on my cheek, his thumb pulling at my lower lip as he moves closer to me. "You have a mouth, little girl," he says, his voice guttural. "A very pretty mouth. So talk if you want to talk."

"What happened Friday…" I start, then pause, frustrated. Why should I have to be the one to say everything when he was clearly jealous that Randolph was talking to me?

"Yes?"

"We got interrupted," I finish. "I left your office and didn't know what any of it meant."

I thought about it all weekend. I thought about you all weekend.

"What does it mean for you?" he asks, his eyes fixated on my lips. I want him to bring his mouth down hard on mine.

"I'm not sure…"

"Obviously you're not sure, with the way you were talking to Randolph this morning," he says darkly.

"I wasn't talking to him. He was talking to me," I protest. "And you are just jealous." I might be naïve when it comes to men, but I'm not blind. His jealousy is written all over him. I should hate that; jealousy goes with being controlling and I left South Hollow to get away from being told what to do.

But I don't hate it at all.

His thumb leaves my lips, his hand going to my head and grabbing my ponytail. He pulls my hair – not hard, just a tug so that my face is upturned toward him. "You're goddamned right I'm jealous," he says gruffly. "I told you what this meant when you were in my office. I told you what it would mean if I touched you."

"What does it mean?" I ask defiantly.

He drops my ponytail and slides his hand between my legs over my shorts. "You haven't been touched by anyone else and you're not going to be. This is mine."

Heat rushes through me and pools between my legs where he's touching me. I want him to tear the shorts right off of my body so he can make good on his promise. I want him to slide his finger inside me, because I'm certain that if he did, I would come right this instant. Even through my shorts, his touch threatens to set me off.

"Randolph was giving me his phone number, not the other way around," I whisper. What I don't bother to try to explain is that while I know I should be attracted to Randolph – he's closer to my age and he's not a faculty member, after all – I'm not.

A dark look crosses his face. "Give me your phone."

"Why?"

He doesn't answer. He just picks my messenger bag up off the floor and reaches inside, retrieving my phone and handing it to me. "Unlock it."

"You're being crazy. I didn't put his number in my phone, if that's what you're getting at."

"I don't care if you have some boy's phone number programmed into your phone," Purity. I'm putting my goddamned number in your phone so that you have it." He thrusts the phone back into my hands. It doesn't even say his name, just "South Hollow" where the name should be. "I should have given it to you before back when your father asked me to look out for you."

"That's what he asked you?" Even though I know my father asked Mr. Gabe to look out for me, hearing Mr. Gabe admit it, after everything we've already done together, takes me aback.

He gives me a guilty look. "Your father asked me to keep an eye on you, and I'm …well, let's just say that I'm certain the way I'm looking out for you is not the way he intended."

"So you really don't care if I get some boy's number?"

"Are you intentionally trying to make me jealous?"

"I don't think I need to try," I tease. "I think you've done a pretty good job of being jealous all on your own."

He leans in close to me, his mouth against my ear. "I don't share pussy. You'd do well to remember that."

A shiver goes up my spine. "Well, maybe I should be spanked for my bad behavior, getting a phone number from a boy," I suggest, feeling suddenly bold.

"Are you trying to get turned over my knee again?"

"Maybe."

"I have other things to teach you besides how to take a spanking."

"Like what?" I whisper, my heart racing again.

"Well, what do you know about, Purity?"

"Nothing," I whisper.

"Then I have to teach you everything."