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Eventually he pulled away to finish making breakfast.

“Can I help?” I asked.

“Just sit down and let me feed you. You must be starving.”

I was. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made me breakfast. He and I rarely ran into each other in the morning.

“French toast or pancakes?” he asked. “I made both. Along with the usual. Eggs, bacon, hash browns.”

I thought about it. “French toast, please.”

I was sitting at the table, knees together, hands folded on top, on my best behavior.

He noticed and shook his head at me. “You look so much like a well-behaved schoolgirl right now that I can barely take it. I can’t even look at you. Eat your breakfast and behave,” he finished, setting a heaping plate in front of me.

His hip was near my shoulder, and I couldn’t help myself. I rubbed his dick through his pants.

He cursed and jerked away, glaring. “Eat,” he said, tugging at one of my braids before moving away.

I ate like I hadn’t eaten in probably a year.

He watched me at first, as though to make sure I liked what he’d made me.

No one but him had ever taken care of me like this, no one but him ever made me food, no one had given a damn whether I starved for longer than I cared to consider. I loved the attention, and particularly who it was coming from.

Eventually Carter sat across from me and ate just as ravenously.

“Any plans today?” I asked him when we finished.

He was flushing and avoiding my gaze, and I suddenly had a sick feeling in my gut. “About that . . .” He began stiltedly. “Can you wear something less . . . provocative? I love how you look right now, but I can’t be around you looking like that unless we’re spending the day fucking like animals.”

I beamed at him though he didn’t see it. “Let’s do that. Your bed or mine?”

He sighed like it pained him, still not looking at me. “I wish, but not today. I totally forgot until I saw a message this morning. I have a . . . friend coming to stay for a few nights, and I promised I’d pick her up from the airport. The plans were made months ago. Like I said, I’d completely forgotten until this morning.”

I felt something inside of me slipping away, like I was losing something precious that I’d have liked to hold onto. “A friend?” I asked in a small voice.

He looked at me then, and I could tell I wasn’t going to like his answer. “She’s my ex-girlfriend actually, but we’re still close.”

I felt just sick.

He seemed to read my mind, and he looked concerned. He reached his hand toward me like he wanted to touch me across the table, but stopped himself. “She’s an interior designer, and there’s a big convention in town that she always attends. Happens once a year, and she just stays here because it’s convenient and we get to catch up.”

I nodded, trying to be mature about it. “But you’re just friends now?” I asked. My tone sounded small and childish just how I hadn’t wanted it to.

He grimaced but nodded. “Just friends. I’ll introduce you to her. She’s only here for two days so there’s no need for us to explain ourselves. I’ll tell her you’re my student and you needed a place to stay, which is the truth. Let’s keep the rest to ourselves, yeah?”

I nodded. “Of course,” I said, my heart breaking a bit. “I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.”

He looked suddenly like he wanted to throttle me.

I squirmed.

“That’s not what I said,” he stated in his firm teacher voice. “This is your home. You don’t need to stay out of anyone’s way. And she’ll be gone in just a couple of days.”

I nodded. “How long ago did you date her?” just sort of slipped out.

He looked as uncomfortable as I’d ever seen him. “A long time. More than six years. Let’s not do this, okay?”