Chapter 2: The Night of Decisions

Olivia’s POV

It is the President of the Art club. I know her through the scent of her perfume, all vanilla and willowy. And maybe a little bitchy. Her heels echo through the room just as the bathroom door closes softly against us.

He turns on the shower, the water tapping lightly against the floor. From up close, I can tell that I was totally wrong about the color of his eyes. They aren’t black. They are brown. The shade that light passes through easily.

My lips part open again but he shakes his head. She gets closer, her pitch getting even more annoying than it usually is.

“Mr Hill?” She covers the space in a minute. “Are you in here?” Her tone is sultry and soft, just the right amount of seduction. In front of me, Mr. Hill rolls his eyes, a quiet exasperated sigh slipping from his lips.

I hear her stop by the bathroom and a dozen thoughts fly through my mind. What if she opens the door and sees me in here with a half-naked Mr. Hill? What will she think? Fiona and I have never been on the same page.

She is smart and bubbly, always competing with me for the top spot. And now, with me graduating valedictorian of the class, I doubt she is the happiest. The Art Club is the one thing she has under her wing, at least until we officially become graduates, and now, it will seem like I am taking that away from her as well.

“Are you in here?”

“What?” Mr. Hill suddenly mutters, increasing his tone. He turns down the shower slightly. “Is there someone out there?”

“Mr. Hill!” Fiona breathes. A light chuckle escapes her lips. “I was just hoping we could, you know, talk about some things.”

“Can I at least shower in peace?”

The jab hits perfectly and I try to kill the smile on my face.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Her tone doesn’t sound sorry. Instead, it feels like someone who has probably done this a million times already. “I’ll just wait out here for you until you are done.”

“I don’t have an interest in dressing up in front of you, Miss. Clement. And I have a meeting in a couple of minutes. Ensure I don’t meet you out there and close the door behind you.”

I release a breath, suddenly aware of how close Mr. Hill is standing to me. His body is positioned in front of me, away from the door. His skin takes in the light splashes from the shower, keeping me shielded.

We wait until we hear Fiona’s retreating steps. The door opens and closes. But even then, Mr. Hill doesn’t take a step back. It feels like the bathroom has gone smaller in minutes as his finger hooks my chin, gearing my head up.

“Name.”

“Olivia,” I squeak.

“What do you like about Jane Eyre, Olivia?”

That is not the question I expect. It is hard to think straight, not with him in front of me. I try not to let my eyes linger, not to go below his face.

“That she chooses,” I whisper. “Not him. Herself.”

His eyes rake through my features, with his hand leaving my face, flattening out on the wall beside me. “And then?”

A thought comes to my head. It is one of my favorite parts of the book. But even though all rationality in me screams at me not to say it, for some reason, my lips part.

“She takes the kiss,” I whisper, immediately wishing I could take it back. Something changes in his eyes. He takes a slow step towards me. “Why do you like that scene?”

“Everything is her choice.” My voice is barely audible, but he hears every word because he is standing so close to me. His second hand comes to rest above my head. He doesn’t touch me, yet I can feel his hands on every part of my body.

My eyes flutter close and then open again. He watches me with his dark gaze, with different emotions crossing his eyes. I see restraint. Heat. Need.

He swallows and tries pushing away from me. And then, I do the one thing I never thought I would do. My hands reach out to stop him, wrapping around his biceps. My breath catches in my throat and a tingle runs up my arms.

“I am giving you the chance to make your choice, Olivia,” he drawls. “I can step out, and order you out of my room. This night can go on without me remembering that you ever came in here.”

But that is the thing. Call me stupid. Call me drunk. But right now, I don’t want that to happen. I can hear my mother’s voice telling me to be good. I can hear my own pulse begging for one decision that is mine.

For all the Jane Eyre quotes I know, all my decisions have always been spurred by something outside my control. But this…

This.

“Don’t go,” I whisper, my voice lingering in the air.

He turns to face me fully, something cracking inside him. He turns the water off and opens the door, his hand on my wrist again as he pulls me out. Inside the room, a chill spread through me. I take in my abandoned glass by the foot of the shelf.

I have no idea when I dropped it.

Mr. Hill’s hands drop from mine close to the wall next to the shelf. And then, he backs me into it. His hands reach for my hair and he brushes a stray strand away from my face. His fingers linger, twirling a strand around one.

I release a shaky breath, just as he moves closer. Slowly. When his lips touch mine, my breath hitches in my throat. I open my mouth to exhale and he deepens the kiss. It is gentle at first, his hand snaking around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer to him.

One minute, a soft sigh escapes my lips and my hands cling on to his arm for dear life. And the next, it feels like every part of me has been set on fire. His hands move down the bodice of my mesh dress, and I gasp when he turns me around suddenly, releasing the button at the neck.

When I turn around again, he mutters, “I’m sorry for this,” before the dress comes in shreds all around me. The soft chuckle that falls out of my lips dies when his hands move to the flimsy tube holding my boobs in place.

The air in the room teases my bare skin when he slides it off me slowly. I hold my breath when his fingers stroke me slowly. Every restraint I have had for the last four years comes undone in this moment and for the first time, I make my own decisions.

“I think I have gone far enough,” he moans, taking his hands off me. But I don’t let him. I push myself into his body, mine pulsing with need. With life.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but tonight, I will make my choices. I don’t think his eyes can darken any further but it happens. He picks me off the floor easily and moves me to his bed. I welcome the change the night brings, but at this moment, I have no idea how much it is about to rock my world.