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He had this hard look on his face, a stern expression. But I’d become used to it, come to realize that was just him.
And that was one of the reasons I’d fallen so hard for him. He was unmoving, like a mountain, like steel. Hard and unapologetic, Professor Goode was as smart as he was unyielding.
It was all those qualities that drew me to him, that had me thinking of—fantasizing—about no one else. It was him. Only him.
I couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop watching as he stalked into the library and headed back to one of the empty tables. It was as if he commanded the room, filled it with this arctic air that had goose bumps forming on my arms, my hair standing on end.
And then he lifted his head and turned and looked right at me, our gazes clashing, the feeling of my eyes widening giving away how I actually felt.
Bared and vulnerable, as if I were looking into the eyes of a ferocious beast, of a predator about to pounce.
But the thing was … I wanted to be his prey.
The way he looked at me was calculated. It was as if time slowed, as if there was no one else in the library aside from the two of us. I felt this tether between us, pulling me closer to him, as if he were my lifeline. It was such a consuming feeling, one that confused me as much as it frightened and aroused me.
“So, drinks?” Sherry asked, breaking through the granite-like hold I had with Professor Goode.
With Lucian.
I looked over at Sherry, thankful she was busy looking down at her phone, not realizing who I’d been staring at, how intently I’d been watching him.
And although he’d stared at me as well, I felt like it was an innocent glance, one done in passing. I was the one who couldn’t have looked away, who felt my heart dropping into my stomach.
“Earth to Gracie.”
I blinked a few times, my vision focusing as I stared at Sherry. She watched me, one of her dark, perfectly arched eyebrows lifted.
“Drinks, are you up for them tonight?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I have to work until six, but after that I’m free.”
Sherry smiled. “How about you meet me at the Olive?”
I nodded and found myself looking at where Professor Goode was seated. My heart jumped into my throat as I saw him watching me, his gaze focused, as if he commanded me.
“The Olive. Six. Sounds good.” I muttered those words, and when I looked back at Sherry, I could see a curious expression on her face. But she didn’t probe for more information.
And I was thankful for that because I didn’t know how I would explain my fixation with Professor Goode.
* * *
Professor Goode
I should’ve been more discrete, hiding my affection, my obsession for Grace. But I couldn’t help myself, certainly not when she was so close.
She was this addiction I had, one that made my heart race, my mouth dry, and my hands shake. A withdrawal that I didn’t know if I’d survive, because I knew the only cure for it was her.
I watched as she left the library, pleased when she kept glancing over at me. She kept biting her lip, pulling at the red, plump flesh with her straight little white teeth. It’s a good thing I was sitting behind the desk because my cock was harder than a rock, pressing against the zipper of my slacks, demanding to be free.
The obscene things I thought about doing to her had me feeling primal, feral. She was so innocent, though, so vulnerable.
But her innocence only fueled my need for her, had me craving her even more.
I wanted to be the one to corrupt her, to show her exactly how good it could feel, how good I could make her feel.
And I would make that a reality, because the alternative wasn’t an option.
4
Grace
I made a latte, poured it into a to-go cup, put the lid on top, and handed it off.
Monotonous actions that sucked up the time and had me earning minimum wage.
If I were being honest, I hated making coffee; hell, I didn’t even drink it. But being a college student meant I couldn’t be picky on what job I landed. I didn’t have a lot of time for anything else, not with my full-time studies.
And although I was covered with student housing, and money my parents had saved up for me over the years, I still had to make money. Maybe not to live off of during school, but for my own integrity and mental well-being.
So, I worked at the coffee shop on campus a couple days a week, making cappuccinos and lattes and wrapping up croissants and egg sandwiches. I rang up the customer, handed them their double-shot espresso, and helped the next one.
