Page 278 of The Professor's Wife

The elevator took too long. I pressed the button repeatedly, though I knew it wouldn’t make the doors open faster. When they finally did, I stepped inside and hit the third floor.

Room 333 waited.

My legs were weak as I approached. I raised a shaky hand and knocked.

And like before…nothing.

I waited, fighting the pressure building inside my chest. Then I knocked again.

“Tristan?”

Silence.

My eyes burned.

I hit the door harder.

“Tristan!”

I pressed both palms against the wood, dropping my forehead between them.

“I came back. I’m here.”

I struck the door again, harder now, not caring who heard me.

“Please—”

“Daze.”

I froze.

The voice came from behind me.

I turned.

Tristan stood near the open stairwell door.

For one moment, I didn’t recognize him. His jeans were caked with mud. His shirt was torn near one shoulder and streaked with dirt. A cut ran across his cheekbone, with dried blood disappearing into the dark stubble along his jaw. His lower lip was split, and one of his hands looked scraped raw.

Bits of leaves and earth were tangled in his dirty blond hair. He looked as though the forest had tried to swallow him and failed. His chest rose and fell heavily as he stared at me.

The relief that moved across his face was so naked it almost hurt to witness.

Neither of us spoke.

His eyes were red.

Not from drinking. From exhaustion. Pain. And…something else.

I crossed the hallway before I realized I had moved.

“What happened to you?”

He looked over my face as though he couldn’t hear the question.

“I thought you left,” I choked out.

His expression broke. Without expecting it, his hand came around the back of my neck, and his mouth crashed against mine. I gasped, grabbing his torn shirt as he kissed me harder. His mouth moved against mine like he had been denied air for hours and had finally found it.