He leaned across the console and kissed Corey. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He engaged the engine. “I might be shit in the sack.”

“I doubt it.” He laced his fingers with Corey’s and relaxed. “Even if you are, I’ll teach you.”

Corey sped out of the lot. “I could use a good teacher.” He chuckled. “I saw you back in biology and wanted you, but when I gathered the courage to visit the club and saw you again … I knew I had to grow some balls. I had to have you.”

“I want to be owned.” He shifted on the seat. “Even if it’s by a teaching assistant.”

“Don’t make me sound so great.” Corey snorted. “Teaching art is my passion.”

“Art?” He could see it. Corey would be sexy as hell in nothing but an apron and standing in front of a canvas painting. “Any particular period or media?”

“Ancient Greek art is my favorite period and drawing is my medium.” He stopped at the Middlesex Hotel, then turned into the lot and parked. “Val, I think I know what Mitt meant.”

“Huh?” He’d tried to forget his former boss. “Ignore him.”

“I can’t,” Corey said. “The thing about Zeus. It wasn’t idle chitchat or bullshit. He uttered a mangled version of a real curse.”

“Curse? Mitt? Then only curses that man knows are four-letter words.” No way Mitt had the intelligence or balls to use a true curse.

“I know this stuff. It’s on pottery.” Corey’s brow furrowed. “I’m serious. He cursed you.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, but he’d play along. “Okay, how did he curse me? I’m going to lose my money? I’m not exactly rolling in the cash. I’ll be ugly? Many guys don’t want a man who wears women’s clothing and underwear. I’ll be lonely? He wouldn’t sink that low.”

“No, It’s not about those things—not exactly.”

“Then spit it out. How’d he curse me?” He’d love to hear this.

“You’ll turn to stone.”