The semester ended, but the arrangement remained.
Amelia stood in the back of the packed lecture hall, dressed in black, her hair pulled tight, her body marked and claimed beneath the fabric.
Three months since he’d dragged her back. Three months of secret meetings, of being used in his office, his car, the supply closet during faculty events.
Three months of knowing she was his filthy secret while Claire waited at home. She should have left. Should have transferred, escaped, saved herself.
Instead, she stood here, her thighs already wet with anticipation, her eyes locked on the man at the front of the room.
Vance looked exactly as he had that first day — impeccable, untouchable, a statue of academic propriety. Charcoal suit, silver tie, glasses low on his nose as he reviewed notes
