I spend all of Sunday and most of Monday convincing myself that what happened in the pool house was purely strategic. A setback. One round lost out of three, which means nothing except that I need to adjust my approach before Round Two.By Tuesday afternoon, walking into the English building with my bag on my shoulder and my notes in my hand, I have almost convinced myself completely.Then I open the study room door and Cain is already there, laptop open, looking like he slept just fine, and my stomach drops and my nipples harden under my shirt before he’s said a single word and all my strategic thinking evaporates immediately.“You’re late,” he says without looking up.“Two minutes.”“Still late.” He looks up then, and his eyes move over me the way they always do now, slow and deliberate, like he’s taking inventory of something that belongs to him. I cross my arms and sit down across from him, as far as the table allows.“We should sit next to each other,” he says.“Why?”“Because we
Last Updated : 2026-03-09 Read more