The Endless Road to Sunshine - Nicky James Page 0,62

had interviewed her, claimed he had a hair-trigger temper when provoked. She’d also said Morgan was more destructive than violent. It was more common for him to throw toys and yell than it had been for him to attack the other children.

His high school years weren’t clearly documented. An interview with his mother claimed he’d come out when he was fifteen, and he’d spent a great deal of his teenage years being tormented by other students at school. More than a few times, the woman had made it clear Morgan’s sexuality was not a problem at home. Was she overcompensating?

It was hard to determine anything from that statement. Any openly gay kid was prone to torment and bullying in high school. That was a given. Hell, I’d dealt with my fair share of problems, and I was easy-going, for the most part.

I huffed a frustrated breath and collapsed back on my bed, surrounded by notes and old news articles. I didn’t care about the project any longer. All I could think about was Jason.

His haunted expression.

The desperation behind his touches and kisses.

His adamant stance that we couldn’t cross lines, spoken as he’d tugged me against his chest like he couldn’t help himself.

I slammed my laptop and my eyes closed, facts and headlines flashing through my brain. Noises of restrained pleasure echoed their reminders through my head. The feeling of fingers tugging my hair, guiding my mouth over a straining cock. Then I saw those dark, soul-rending eyes as they had stared at me from the podium on Friday.

I was in over my head, but there was no part of me that wanted to back down. Jason might have initially been a challenge—the sexy yet miserable professor I’d wanted to bone like nobody’s business—but something had changed, and I didn’t know what to do about it.

He wasn’t a challenge anymore. He was an ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away.

Chapter Thirteen

Jason

Marianne Bailey sat with her spine straight, legs crossed, and hands folded on her knees. She wore overly large, black-framed glasses, a maroon-colored pencil skirt, and a modest, soft yellow blouse. Her light brown hair was tied back, a few loose strands framing her face. She had round cheeks, a stubby nose, and an eagerness that was common among teacher’s assistants. The position was empowering to some. In my final year of university, when I’d secured a TA position within the history department, I’d felt like I was walking on top of the world.

I was late in the game hiring someone, but with the strain that was my life, the pressure of grading assignments and marking papers was too much. So, I’d posted an advert the previous week and hired the first decent person who’d inquired.

I’d told myself a hundred times my anxiety had nothing to do with the young student sitting in the front row during my lectures who’d swallowed my cock and made me come so hard I’d seen stars.

With Marianne on board, my inner turmoil over the whole situation had come down a few notches, knowing I didn’t have to be directly responsible for grading his work now. Like it wasn’t bad enough fraternizing with a student, the idea that he might come back at me and accuse me of being too harsh or too lenient was more than I could take.

“Just leave them locked in this drawer when you’re done, fill out the spreadsheet with each student’s grade, and email it to me.”

“No problem.”

“Is three days enough time?”

“It’s lots of time. I should have it finished tomorrow.”

I nodded and pushed back from my desk. “I need to grab a coffee before my next class. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“No problem.”

I’d set Marianne up with a small workspace in my office and had given her keys. Her references had all checked out, so I left her alone while I wandered to the food court and the more popular coffee shop on campus called Stone Brew.

It was Thursday, ten days since I’d had Skylar in my apartment. Ten days since I’d broken down and shared my secret and my bed.

He hadn’t told anyone.

No one had approached me. No one had looked at me knowingly. Life had carried on as usual—except for the sheer weight of his presence in the front row during my lectures. That had gotten worse.

Skylar was impossible to ignore. Despite the sudden cessation of his flirting and his random trips to my office, he was still a remarkable part of every single