Page 129 of When Hearts Collide
Her mouth parts and I swallow her cry with my lips as the pressure breaks inside me, shooting through my hard shaft. My vision blackens. I fall into oblivion with her. My cock pulses inside her trembling pussy, the orgasm never ending.
Our kiss turns fevered, suction against suction, swipe against swipe, hunter against hunter as we slowly climb down from our high.
My perfect match. The right person, but the wrong time and the wrong circumstances.
Losers in a game of fate.
Slowly, the room comes back into focus, and I can hear the commotion outside.
Hastily, I pull out of her and help her back into her leggings before righting the rest of her clothes and zipping up my pants.
The office reeks of sex and she looks well and thoroughly fucked.
She looks like mine.
But I don’t know how to save her. I don’t know how to protect her from the shitstorm. It’s the final nail on the coffin.
Moving around her, I stride to the door, unlock it, and my fingers close around the doorknob.
“Ryland, I love you, please. Please don’t do this.” Her voice is pleading. I can hear the tears she’s holding back and my heart splinters into a million pieces.
I falter, just briefly, my eyes flickering shut for a moment before I open the door and face my fate.
I don’t answer her.
Tears spring into my eyes as I watch the dean storm into the room, his countenance dark and foreboding. He slams the door shut behind him.
Ryland steps aside, his head hung low, his shoulders slumped, devastating defeat clear in his frame.
He has given up on us. That was his goodbye.
Perhaps I never had him at all.
Heartbreak spears through my chest, the pain so unfathomable, it eclipses the fear, the anger, and all the other emotions coursing through me.
It was goodbye.
“What the fuck is going on, Ryland? What did you do?”
The dean stabs a shaky finger into Ryland’s chest, but the man I love remains silent, his eyes still looking at the ground.
“How could you do this? Your reaction alone spoke volumes. You didn’t need to say anything to the press. What you did back there and now,” he glares at both of us, “signed your death warrant and quite possibly mine! And to think I was putting you on the tenure track!” The dean paces the room, his fingers gripping his hair.
Tenure track? His lifelong dream that he thought he could never have? He put that at risk…for me?
My lips tremble as sobs threaten to unleash. Please look at me, Ryland. Please. I will him to acknowledge me, to stand next to me, to do anything other than staring at the ground and ignoring me.
“Ms. Callahan.”
At my name, I swivel my head toward the dean, who’s looking at me with both pity and compassion.
“I have campus security waiting for you outside to escort you back to your apartment while we figure everything out. Please leave this office.” The firmness in his voice doesn’t allow for arguments.
“Dean, please, it’s not what you think, don’t punish—”
“Everything is my fault. What happened, didn’t happen, what the press thinks, what you think, everything is my fault,” Ryland interrupts, his head lifting, his desolate charcoal eyes finally meeting mine.
His voice is thick as he continues, “Please don’t punish Ms. Callahan. She did nothing wrong. I take full responsibility for anything from this scandal.”
