I am still staring at him.
His eyes meet mine again, narrowing slightly, though that same sly hint of amusement still lingers on his face.
Then his gaze drops to my mouth, and I realise I have been biting my lower lip while looking at him.
My cheeks flush and I quickly look away, opening my own notebook and turning my attention to the work in front of me.
The lecture passes slowly, mostly because I can feel his eyes on me through all of it.
Surely the man has something better to do than stare at me for an entire class.
That is what one would think.
Apparently not.
Even so, I keep my attention fixed firmly on the page in front of me. I don’t dare look up for the rest of the lecture.
I have some self-control left, and I should at least attempt to prove it.
If only to myself.
Yet again, as seems to be the story of my life, I find myself tangled in another mess.
Because he might not know, but I do.
As much as my body responds to his, we can’t do this. I can’t allow this to become anything more.
It really should have gone according to plan. One forbidden night, and then we would return to different corners of the world.
Him to Velmark Academy later on in London, or wherever it is he lives.
Me here on the island before eventually returning home to America.
As soon as the class ends, I stand abruptly, ready to disappear into the crowd, but a figure looms over me before I can even reach for my bag.
I look up… and up.
Even in my heeled boots, he towers over me. The man is easily six foot three, perhaps six foot four, and beside my five foot two frame, the difference is impossible to ignore.
“Miss Ashthorne. A word.”
A few heads turn in my direction and my hand tightens around the strap of my bag.
This is bad.
Very, very bad.
I can’t have attention like this on me. Even if nothing happened between us beyond that night, people gossip. And if rumours start spreading about me and my professor… I don’t know whathewill do.
“I do have another lecture to get to.”
“You may have mistaken my tone for optional.”
My jaw tightens.
He narrows his eyes as if daring me to refuse, and I want to.
I really, really want to.
