Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” he said, snatching it out of my hand and shoving it in a desk drawer.
Where had I seen that hat before?
Then it hit me.
All the blood drained from my face as I turned to look at 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 there and there was no going back. “You’re at Voyeur. You watched me 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 at my core, spreading like ice water through my veins. “Just stop,” I whispered, a plea I was embarrassed to let escape.
“Please.”
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 how wrong it 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 they reached out to me again. I stumbled back a few steps, 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.
“That is not—”
“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 scenario was said 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 forward, I held my ground this time. He stood over me, his nostrils flared as he breathed heavy 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 began working 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 over the words. When he spoke again, it was softer, tinged with desperation. “That’s enough.”
This close with his hands on me felt dirtier after the way he’d touched me a moment before. The way he’d kissed me and made me feel cherished. Made me feel wanted in a way that didn’t require me to perform. I hadn’t realized how cold the performances felt at Voyeur until I had Callum’s lips pressed to mine. Tears glossed over my eyes as I thought about how he’d called me beautiful. Had he meant it? Had he meant any of it?
His brows furrowed in pain and for a moment, I wanted to believe him. Believe that it was all happenstance and not at all what it seemed. Believe that what we shared in this office was what was real.
But I couldn’t, because it hurt too much.
I jerked out of his hold. “You’re not allowed to touch the performers.”
Not even bothering to button my shirt, I snatched my jacket up to my chest, grabbed my bag and got the hell out of there.