“You’re anything but a silly girl.” He ran a large palm across his face. “You are smart, sexy, and alluring and so beautiful. And God. . .” He paused, looking me over before sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. I wanted to get lost in those words, but I saw thebutcoming before he’d even said it. “You’re nineteen—my student—and I should’ve known better.”
I dug my nails into my palm to help center myself. To focus on that instead of the pain his rejection caused.
I wanted it to be over, and I never wanted it to be brought up again.
“It’s okay. Let’s forget it.” I reached down, collected the folder I’d dropped and handed it to him. “Here you go. I should get going.”
He took it but tossed it on the desk.8“I can scan them in tomorrow. Let me grab my things so we can walk out together. It’s late.”
“Sure,” I said with a forced smile and nod. I watched him close his laptop and lifted my backpack to my shoulder, hating the awkwardness. Desperate, I tried breaking it with a joke. “You should probably straighten that folder on your desk before it gives you nightmares tonight.”
He moved the folder and smiled, not acknowledging that I was right.9
While he did that, I grabbed his jacket from the rack in the corner. As I held it out to him, something fell from under it.
“Whoops,” I said, leaning down to pick it up.
“No. That’s okay,” he almost shouted, lunging for the hat.
But I got to it first and picked it up. My brows furrowed. I’d seen that hat before, the wordCincinnatistitched across the top. But where?
“Thank you,” he said, snatching it out of my hand and shoving it in a desk drawer.10
Where had I seen that hat before?
Then it hit me.
All the blood drained from my face as I focused back on Dr. Pierce. His gaze was cautious, and I took in his jaw, clenched and familiar. How had I not noticed it when I saw it?
He’d watched me.He’d watched me. The words ran on repeat over and over, curling around my chest, swirling into my stomach until I thought I’d heave.
“You. . .” I tried to get it out, but I didn’t have enough air in my lungs. “You—”
“Oaklyn.” My name crested his lips softly, almost a plea because he knew I knew.
“Voyeur.” I said it. I threw it out and there was no going back. “You’re at Voyeur. Youwatchedme at Voyeur.”
“Oaklyn.” He stepped toward me, his hands out. “I’m so sorry. It’s not wha—”
“Stop,” I shouted. “Just stop.” I looked him over, trying to read his face. What he thought. How long he knew. What he saw. What he wanted. Why he did it. Each question hitting my chest, spreading like ice water through my veins. “Just stop. Please,” I whispered, a plea I was embarrassed to let escape.
I clenched my eyes shut trying to think. Trying to block him out and understand. Trying to figure out what to do next. “I sat here beating myself up for being attracted to you. For luring you into kissing me. I beat myself up thinking I was just a child and not good enough. I—I was embarrassed for lusting after my professor, thinking about howwrongit was.” A humorless laugh escaped my pinched lips. “But why bother with kissing me—touching me or facing me, when you can just sit behind a glass and watch me play with myself with no limits or expectations.”
His hand rubbed at the back of his neck before reaching out again. I stumbled back, not wanting him to touch me. Not now. “That’s not what it was. I didn’t seek you out. It just happened. You were there. So perfect and I’m so sorry.”
I heard him, but none of it penetrated the fog of embarrassment and hurt of being betrayed. “I felt crazy thinking I had imagined the attraction—that you would look at me a certain way. But you sure did look at me a certain way. You looked at me and saw me naked. Of course, you looked at me.”
Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I thought over the friendship we had built and how dumb I must have been to be the only one enjoying it. He was just keeping me around because I turned him on. I’d been a fool.11
“That isnot—”
“What was your favorite scene?” I asked, disdain dripping from my words. “What did you see when you watched me in class? Did you remember the way I moaned as I fucked myself? How about when Jackson fucked me?” Each taunt was louder than the last. “Or was it your favorite when you could make me suck his cock per your request. Did you imagine it was you?”
Dr. Pierce took another step, but I held my ground this time. He stood over me, his nostrils flared over heavy breaths and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Oaklyn,” he ground out.
“Do you want to see me strip now?” I whispered, dropping my backpack. I ripped my jacket off and worked on the buttons along my shirt baring my white lace bra. “Do you want me to get naked for you right here and do whatever you want?”
His hands latched on to my biceps and halted my progress. “Enough,” he shouted, his voice cracking. When he spoke again, it was softer, tinged with desperation. “That’s enough.”
