The routine formed like an addiction — inevitable, consuming and destructive.
It started three days after he threw her out. Amelia sat in the back of the lecture hall, dressed in black, her eyes fixed on her notebook, refusing to acknowledge his existence.
She would not be his dirty secret. Would not be used and discarded. But Vance had other plans.
He found her in the library at midnight, researching for another class, her hair wet from the rain outside. He didn’t speak. Simply gripped her wrist, dragged her to his office, and f****d her against the door before it even closed.
“Let go—” she started, furious, betrayed by her own body.
“Shut up,” he growled, his hand over her mouth, his c**k driving into her from behind. “You don’t get to ignore me. You started this… you don’t get to
