Behind the Mask 5

"Something on your mind, Tyler?"

I should have looked away, but the question came out before I could stop myself. "Have we met before?"

Damon didn't answer immediately. Instead, he placed his fork on the plate with the same deliberate calm he seemed to bring to everything he did. He lifted his eyes to mine and said, "Come here."

Two simple words shouldn't have affected me the way they did, but something inside my chest tightened the moment I heard them. I had heard that voice before, spoken in that same low, controlled tone, and suddenly the memory I had been trying to ignore began pushing its way forward.

I told myself not to move, but my feet carried me toward him anyway. With every step, the room seemed to become less real, while the chandelier above me blurred and the silver ring on his finger caught the light. Then I remembered the dark room, the single lamp, the mask, and the voice that had told me to come closer.

My breathing became uneven as another memory surfaced. I remembered the shape of his mouth beneath the mask, the warmth of his skin beneath my hands, and the way those dark eyes had watched me as though he had already memorized every reaction I would give him.

I stopped a few feet from him.

My stomach twisted as the truth finally settled into place, and I suddenly understood why his voice had felt familiar from the moment I first stepped into his office. I stared at his face, searching for any reason to convince myself that I was wrong, but there was nothing left to deny.

"It's you," I whispered.

Damon's expression didn't change.

"You're him."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and the quiet confidence in his eyes made my heart pound harder. He looked almost amused by the fact that I had finally put the pieces together, as though he had been waiting for this exact moment since I walked through his front door.

"Took you long enough," he said.

For several seconds, I couldn't move.

My mind struggled to catch up with what my body had already understood, while my fingers curled into fists at my sides. The man I had spent the entire night trying to remember was standing directly in front of me, and he was the same professor who had been holding my scholarship over my head.

"You knew," I said.

Damon remained where he was.

"You knew who I was."

"I recognized you at the club."

The words made my stomach drop.

"And you said nothing?"

"What was I supposed to say, Tyler?" His voice remained calm, although something sharper appeared behind his eyes. "That I recognized the boy from the club when he walked into my office as my student?"

My hands began to shake, so I pressed them against my sides. "You could have told me."

"You didn't recognize me. I decided that wasn't my secret to hand you."

"That's not your call to make." My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my sides so he wouldn't see it. "You gave me a D. You knew exactly what that would do to me, and you used it. You made me come here."

"I gave you the grade you earned." He said it without flinching, like it was the simplest fact in the world. "What you do with that is on you. I didn't put a gun to your head. I offered you a way to fix it."

"By making me your personal chef."

"By giving you a chance most professors wouldn't bother giving you." He stood now, closer than I wanted him, and I hated that some part of me still wanted him closer. "You could have refused. You didn't."

"Because I need this scholarship." My voice cracked on the last word, and I hated that too. "You know that. You knew that before I even said it."

"Yes, I know."

The simple answer stopped me.

I stared at him, waiting for guilt to cross his face, but he showed none. His expression remained controlled, although the muscles along his jaw tightened when he saw how badly his answer had affected me.

I dragged a hand through my hair and turned away from him. "This was never just about cooking, was it?"

"No."

His honesty made me turn back.

Damon hadn't moved, but something about his expression had changed. The cold professor who had dismissed my pleas in his office was still there, yet there was something else beneath it that I couldn't understand.

"Then what is this about?" I asked, unable to hide the frustration in my voice.

Damon kept his eyes on mine for several seconds before he finally answered. "This is about you, Tyler, and I think you already know that."

My breath caught at his words, and a strange warmth spread through my chest despite everything I had just learned. I hated that my body still reacted to him, especially when my mind was telling me that I should be angry with him.

"You should have told me when I walked into your office."

Damon lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back at me. "If I had told you then, would you have stayed?"

I opened my mouth, but no answer came.

"Would you have accepted my offer if you knew I was the man from the club?" he asked.

I looked toward the window.

I wanted to say yes, but the truth sat heavily in my chest. If I had known who he was that day, I probably would have run before he could finish explaining anything.

Damon took a step closer.

I didn't move away.

"I'm not going to apologize for wanting you to stay," he said.

My heart began beating faster.

"I will apologize for many things when the time comes, but I will not apologize for that."

I swallowed and looked directly into his eyes. "You don't get to decide what I forgive."

"No."

He took another step toward me, leaving barely any space between us. His voice dropped when he said, "You do."

I could feel the warmth of his body without him touching me. The memory of the night at the club rushed through my mind again, bringing back the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands, and the way my body had responded to him before I ever knew his name.

I closed my eyes for one second.

"Damn it, Tyler," I whispered.

When I opened my eyes, Damon was still watching me.

I reached forward and caught the front of his shirt.

His eyebrows lifted slightly as I pulled him closer, but he didn't resist me. My heart hammered against my ribs as I held his gaze and finally allowed myself to make the choice he had been waiting for.

"It's my call now," I said.

Something flickered across Damon's face — surprise, maybe, the first real surprise I'd seen from him all night. It didn't last. His mouth curved, slow and pleased, like I'd just confirmed something he already suspected about me.

"Is it," he said. Not a question.

 He closed the last inch of space between us and kissed me before I could take back a single word of it.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't supposed to be. Every bit of the anger I'd been holding onto for the last five minutes poured into it instead, and he met it with the same force, one hand sliding into my hair, the other flattening low on my back to pull me flush against him. I made a sound against his mouth I wasn't proud of.

He walked me backward until my shoulders hit the wall, and the cold of it barely registered over the heat of him pressed against me. His mouth left mine to drag along my jaw, down my throat, and I tipped my head back to give him more room without deciding to.

"You're still angry," he murmured against my skin. It wasn't a complaint.

"Yes," I breathed.

"Good." His teeth grazed the same spot he'd marked that first night. "Stay angry. I like you like this.”