Forbidden Obsessions (Deviant Desires of Bennington University #2)

Chapter One

Tomas

“ H ello, Professor DeLuca.” Her crimson nail polish glimmers in the light as she outstretches her arm. Time stops as I gape in horror at Vanessa’s hand, then her sadistic smirk. I feel the blood draining from my face, probably bleeding straight into her nails. I wouldn’t put the sorcery past her, given the vile creation she is. Just like two years ago, I’m watching my life implode. All that I’ve worked tirelessly to change, the reparations to the damage Vanessa caused, might as well be turning to dust before my eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a daughter.” I school my features, swallowing my bile and increasing panic, as I turn to Jonathan Byrne. I know Jonathan is a pompous prick and will pounce on any weakness I show. Even as he sits at my desk, hands folded demurely, I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me. In a crisp, tailored suit, he’s all business today. He watches me like a hawk through narrowed blue eyes as icy as his non-existent soul. His impeccably styled ash-blond hair with just the perfect amount of gray blending in makes my stomach churn. I bet women fawn at his feet. Disgusting.

Before his unanticipated arrival, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hit anyone as badly as I wanted to punch his son, Nathan, who stabbed me last semester. The tide has changed, so it seems.

“She’s my stepdaughter, actually. I’ve been in her life so long that I consider her my own blood. Anyway, as you may recall, I was the final vote you needed for this,” Jonathan says, gesturing to my new lab. Silly me for believing his vote was based on professional merit. Hell, I would have even taken a “sorry that my son fucked up and stabbed you” vote. “It would be a shame for the funding to be revoked for your shiny new lab, no?”

He’s partially bluffing. I know the university was able to secure some grant funding to cover half of my salary and thirty percent of my lead assistant’s salary. On the other hand, the university shoulders a significant cost. Given that the board votes on funding and budgeting, the message is crystal clear: dance, puppet, and we won’t have a problem.

And Jonathan’s right— it is a shiny, beautiful lab. The morning sun reflects off of two rows of stainless steel tables, long enough to seat six people at each. Black leather stools sit tucked underneath, waiting for the dozen students who will work with me this semester. At the back of the room, a table to the left houses various neatly organized glass beakers, test tubes, and other equipment. The table to the right has an array of microscopes. Shelves above and below hold even more. Large glass windows overlook the grassy knolls of the campus.

I turn my attention to the various students making their way to class. I need to compose myself before I lash out and ruin everything. I pivot and stare at him, pretending I’m as unphased as he is.

“I do. It was kind of you to vote in my favor.” The acrid taste of copper fills my mouth as I chew on my cheek. Did I really just have to make myself sound like such a kiss ass?

I steal a glance at Vanessa. She watches quietly, her cherry-red lips stretched in a Cheshire Cat grin. It seems her signature shade of lipstick hasn’t changed. She smiles at me in a silent, brazen taunt. Gritting my teeth, I hastily look away.

She already knows she’s winning, and I fucking loathe it. My stomach twists as she continues to dredge up everything that I’ve been trying to forget. Everything I hate about myself: the need for attention, the impulsivity, the anger, and especially my questionable, self-destructive coping mechanisms.

“Vanessa has been working in Oncology research for the past two years. I think you know something about that. Don’t you, Tomas?” His eyebrows lift at the rhetorical question. I nod curtly, watching his control falter as he bites back a sarcastic smile.

“And?” Just spit it the fuck out already. Christ.

“ Vanessa will be your lead research assistant through the duration of the semester, at a minimum. Since I had a hand in securing your future, you’ll have a hand in securing hers.” And there it is.

“With all due respect, Jonathan, I don’t think that would be a wise decision,” I argue. My eyes dart between the duo, trying to discern whether this was a solo or joint decision.

Jonathan gives a soft laugh. “Why? Isn’t Hamilton’s daughter enough for you?” The offhanded mention of Olivia loosens my tether of restraint a bit more, already at risk of snapping.

I have worked too hard to let this, of all things, get out of hand. Between the sleepless nights, fretting over curriculums, grading papers, mentoring students, and peer-reviewed publications, I can honestly say I have sacrificed and earned my career.

“Yes, Olivia is more than enough. I love her, and we’ve been doing well together,” I snap, my fists balling at my sides.

“Then enlighten me. What’s the problem with having my daughter here, DeLuca?” The black leather chair groans as Jonathan leans back in my chair, arms crossed over his chest. He looks too comfortable as he shows that just as easily as he shall give, he shall take away. The blatant disrespect shouldn’t really surprise me, given everything I know about him and his family. Nathan’s cut from the same cloth and seems to get it honestly.

“Given our history, it would be unwise and immensely inappropriate.” The pair of them have the gall to look surprised, as if they never expected this. To my knowledge, Jonathan was never directly involved in the fallout from our discretion. I would bet money that he knows, though.

There isn’t much in this area that his family doesn’t know. The Byrne family has controlled the city since the early fifties. Jonathan’s dad, Harry, was the police commissioner for over twenty years. My father was a young trauma surgeon at Cambridge Health throughout some of Harry’s career. Dad said little about his interactions with Harry, but he told me enough with the ominous warnings—stay clear of the Byrne family, and don’t piss them off.

I’m trying to be less reckless, but I’ll never be docile, either. I don’t give a shit if it’s a Byrne or not. If you threaten what’s mine—who I love—I will fight for it. So, whether Jonathan truly knows about the past between Vanessa and me is inconsequential. There’s plenty of animosity to go around given the history between Nathan and I. If any of them try to fuck up what I have with Olivia and her family, I will bare my teeth.

“You’ll find a way and get through it, DeLuca. Otherwise, you may as well kiss your lab, your tenure track, and everything else goodbye,” Jonathan says, menacingly calm. I don’t doubt him. Even with Olivia’s father, James, in my corner, it may not hold enough weight to withstand Jonathan’s wrath. I’m not going down without a fight, though.

“Some ground rules, then.” I give Vanessa a pointed look. Heat smolders in the piercing stare she returns. She’s always had an intensity about her. It’s somewhere between fuck me and I hate you . Another wave of nausea roils through me. I’m not going to let this old fuck and vindictive bitch intimidate me.

“We are never here alone. I don’t care if it’s another student or another RA. I want a witness here at all times.” Neither of them acknowledges the demand, but I continue anyway. “She does not get my phone number. She only contacts me through email.”

Jonathan glances at Vanessa, then back at my face. “Fine,” he finally concedes.

Not that I expected Vanessa to be extremely chatty, but I figured she would have something sarcastic to say. My eyes flit to hers. She looks away, pretending to watch the birds playing in the willow tree outside.

She’s been tapping her foot relentlessly and picking her nails like she’s nervous. Someone should give this girl a fucking Academy Award already. I can tell she’s on best behavior, trying to play the doe-eyed innocent stepdaughter to daddy dearest here, when we both know what a viper she really is.

Jonathan rises from the chair. I expect Vanessa to follow suit, but she stays seated, watching me out of the corner of her eye. Jonathan stops at the door before turning around with a nod in our direction. A warning to me, or her, perhaps. He exits wordlessly. His leather shoes scuff down the hallway.

“Tomas, I can explain,” Vanessa says softly.

I rub my temples as I exhale a deep sigh. I have the migraine of the year. “Seems pretty straight-forward to me. Already breaking the first ground rule,” I bite out, turning my attention to organizing my desk. I’ll have my research assistants in here tomorrow to discuss the semester. I need to get all of that together, plus I have lectures coming up.

“There is nothing straight-forward or normal about this shit, Tomas.” Something about her tone gives me pause. What the fuck does that mean? Stop it, Tomas. Don’t let her manipulate you.

“Go home, Vanessa. I don’t want you anywhere near me,” I say, glancing at the clock. The punching bag at the gym is the last hope I have at me not ripping someone’s head off. If I get her to leave now, I can still make it before class.

“You might want to hear what I have to say, or do you not care what my good old stepbrother is up to?” Vanessa taunts.

I inadvertently tip my mug of coffee over, spilling it all over the stack of syllabi for my next class. “Motherfucker. You have thirty seconds, Vanessa. Start talking,” I hiss, grabbing paper towels to soak up the spill. It barely salvages them. The class is either going to have to deal with it or I’ll have to forgo the gym.

In all the time I’ve known her, this is the first time she’s looked apprehensive. She takes a shaky breath, making my unease grow. It’s been easy to hate her from afar for the past two years. I’m far too trusting. To a fault, so I’ve heard. A shadow of doubt creeps in. What if she’s as ensnared in this as me? I don't even know what this is . I push the thought away as quickly as it comes.

The stool leg scrapes the tile floor. My ears ring and the headache intensifies. Vanessa walks over, too close for comfort. Instinctively, I take two steps, backing away from her. I realize my mistake too late as my back hits the whiteboard. She’s close enough to smell her floral perfume—-a scent that’s nauseated me since I crossed paths with her years ago.

“I didn’t want to do it,” she whispers, eyes flitting nervously to the hallway.

“Didn’t want to do what exactly?” I counter, my voice equally low. Her sudden paranoia is unnerving me.

Before she can answer, there’s a loud knock on the open door. Olivia furrows her brow, and I can already see the accusation in her eyes.

“Am I interrupting something?” Olivia asks as she looks between us.

“No,” I say, closing the distance between us and wrapping my hand around Olivia’s waist.

“I was just leaving. So sorry,” Vanessa offers, scowling as she makes her way through us. Olivia elbows me as she pulls away, giving Vanessa room to get the fuck out.

Olivia paces the length of the room, avoiding my gaze at all costs. No matter which way I flip the coin, this will not end well. Between the anxiety, migraine, and the seed of doubt that was just planted, my mind is overwhelmingly chaotic. I need a goddamn drink.

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” I finally offer. Olivia pauses long enough to give me a deadly glare that would even make Jonathan shutter. I blink first, and Olivia resumes walking. Tense silence hangs heavily in the air.

“Tell me what it looked like, then, Tomas,” she bites out, folding her arms across her chest. There’s no way she can’t see the unease coursing through me. I just hope I don’t look like how I feel: guilty . I need to tell her now, or it’ll be worse.

“That was my new research assistant, Vanessa,” I admit as evenly as I can manage. Olivia stops dead in her tracks, her back to me.

“The infamous Vanessa?” I wince at her harsh tone. I can already tell I’m going to be on the couch tonight. That or in the hospital again.

“It gets worse,” I sigh.

She spins. “Rip the Band-Aid off, Tomas.” Her pulse practically leaps out of her throat.

“Jonathan was here with her. Vanessa is his daughter. Stepdaughter, actually.”

Olivia sputters. “Why are they here? Is she..?” She doesn’t need to finish the thought. I know what she’s wondering, and I’m wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have time to ask. Jonathan left a minute before you walked in. She was trying to tell me something.”

Olivia rears back. “And you trust anything she says?”

“No. Absolutely not,” I say, raking my hand through my hair. The truth is, I don’t know. Olivia is far from being a mistake, but she is part of a pattern and my poor track record of blurring boundaries.

“Is she here to stay?” she asks.

“Yes, for now.” Olivia stares at the floor, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly not saying what she really wants to.

“I don’t like it,” she says, lifting her gaze to mine. I hate the insecurities and hurt written on her face.

“Neither do I,” I sigh, pulling her into my chest. The silence hangs and I desperately want to fill it, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t like the version of myself that Vanessa surfaces. If Olivia sees that side of me, she’ll leave. She left a hateful relationship once before, and I know she’d leave another one.

“I trust you,” she says. A partial weight lifts from my shoulders. My migraine rages on, but it’s a step in the right direction. The question is should Olivia trust me? Am I worthy of it? I would never intentionally hurt her, but what she just walked into isn’t making me feel confident in myself. Even with my best intentions, I’m prone to self-sabotage.

“Thank you,” I whisper in her ear. Her skin feels like silk against me. Home . Over the course of our relationship, she’s become my home—my sanctuary in the daily chaos. She leans into me and the hem of her black dress rides up her thighs.

I’ve spent so much time studying her beautiful body. The hard lines, the soft curves. The dips, the planes. The freckles. The birth mark on her hip. I have every inch of her memorized. My cock stirs as my fingers snake up her inner thighs, knowing exactly what’s under that thin strip of fabric separating us. I’m not trying to deflect her so much as I’m trying to control my racing thoughts.

“Olivia,” I whisper in an anguished plea, unsure of how she’ll respond to the one-eighty in the agenda.

“Stay here,” she says with a wicked grin on her luscious, pink lips.

I’m a little relieved, but I quip a brow, unsure of what she has in store for me. “That’s my line,” I warn. She searches the room, pausing once she finds the remote on the shelf and presses the button. Instantly, the blinds lower, casting the room into darkness.

“Not right now, it isn’t,” she tsks. She saunters to the other side of the room, swaying her hips like a tempting little vixen before shutting the door and clicking the lock.

The searing heat in her eyes goes straight to my groin. It’s not her usual soft and tender lust . This one is all predator, and I understand it. I am immensely proud of it.

This one says you are mine. It seems this is a territorial pissing, and it’s not a repeat of last semester. I’ve been dragging Olivia out of her head over the past six months for this moment.

Sitting on the edge of my desk, she pushes the papers that remain scattered to either side of her. Spreading her legs impossibly wide, she sucks the tips of her fingers before bringing them to her sheer lace panties. Rubbing her clit, she tips her head back, enjoying the sensation and the way my eyes are on her.

We’ve both learned Olivia is an exhibitionist and I never get tired of it.

“Fuck me,” I breathe. My blood stirs, confused by the whiplash of the day.

She tsks. “That won’t be happening right now, Dr. DeLuca. I do, however, have an assignment you can help with.” I close the distance, stopping short of her knees.

“Anything,” I whisper.

With a wry smile, she motions to the floor. “On your knees, Professor.” I follow her command, dropping one knee at a time, staring into her big, hazel eyes. This is so brazen and out of character for her, and I can’t get enough. The stale air from moments ago, thick with tension, charges with electricity. Wanton need and arousal hang heavy, stopping short of driving me to delirium.

I never thought I would submit to someone, but with Olivia harnessing her rage and channeling it like this, there isn’t much I would say no to. Certainly not this.

She finally pulls the lace aside, giving me an unrestricted view of her pussy. She’s already wet, begging for me to lick every inch of the sensitive flesh.

“May I?” I ask. She gives a small moan, a breathy yes, as I plant a trail of kisses up her leg.

Once I get to her thighs, she loses her patience. “Stop teasing me, dammit.” Olivia grabs my hair, pulling my mouth toward her swollen clit. She whimpers at the first swipe—a languid, firm lick. It claims her as much as she’s staking her claim on me.

“Better?” Olivia’s ravenous, seizing whatever leverage she can purchase as she grinds her sweet pussy on my face.

“Yes,” she moans, her sweet taste flooding my senses. It’s merely minutes later when she clamps her thighs around my neck as her orgasm seizes her. Her moans and whimpers bounce off of the walls as she trembles against me. I’m ravenous and rock hard for her.

She pushes me away with weak arms.“No more,” she pants, her chest heaving and a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. I climb up her body and lean in, kissing her deeply.

“Fuck,” I mutter. I only have about five minutes before my organic chemistry class. It’s not enough time for even a quarter of the filthy things I want to do to her currently.

I pull back, leaving us both breathless. “Good boy,” she says as she pats my head. She may be mischievous, but her satisfied laughter is a balm to my weary soul.

“You know, I think you’re right about the obedient dog comment. This feels nice. Take the reins more often.” Her exterior cracks as a crimson blush spreads across her face.

“I love you,” I tell her, cupping both cheeks in my hands.

“I love you, too. I was just coming by to wish you a good first day.” She climbs off the desk, sweeping her palms over her wrinkled dress.

“‘Coming’ being the operative word, I take it?” I grin at her. She rolls her eyes, giving a small laugh.

“That wasn’t my initial motive, but I just got…” I furrow a brow.

“Jealous?” I suggest.

“No,” she bites out before chewing on her bottom lip.

“Do you need another attitude adjustment, Miss Hamilton? Yours seems to be short-circuiting.” She runs her palm over my painful erection and I leak into my goddamn briefs.

“You seem to need an adjustment yourself, Professor.” She makes a show of looking down at the noticeable bulge.

“An understatement,” I agree.

“Too bad. Maybe Vanessa can help you with that,” she whispers before turning, and walking out of the door wordlessly.

If there’s one thing I am, it’s prompt for my classes. Not today, though. They are going to have to wait for my blood to cool. As for Olivia, I respect the power move, but I’m certain that she will pay for this when I get home.