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The things I knew about her, the way I watched. It was all to protect her, all to know her.
She liked her tea with milk and sugar, extra sweet just like I knew her lips would be if I were to kiss her.
I was desperate for her.
She chewed on her pencil when she was concentrating, her little tongue coming out and moving along her bottom lip.
I was hungry for her.
She played with the ends of her hair when she was nervous, her fingers delicate, long, like she played piano, her nails painted pink.
The things I thought about her doing with those tiny hands.
And she bit her bottom lip when she was worried, those straight white teeth sinking into the red flesh, like an apple being broken into, the crack of it consuming.
I didn’t deny I wanted her. I didn’t even try and hide it.
Innocent. That’s what she was.
I stalked her, knew her every like and dislike … obsessed over her.
I wanted her like I’d never wanted anything in my life. And I told myself that watching her, following her, was to keep her safe. To keep her mine.
I was her professor. She was my student. It was wrong to need her the way I did. But she consumed me, like I was gasping to breathe and she was oxygen.
I was a selfish bastard, and when it came to Grace, I wanted her all to myself.
ChapterOne
Professor Goode
It’s said that an obsession is an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind.
But I say it’s more than that, more than a definition, a string of words thrown together. Nothing can accurately describe how I feel, what I feel, the lengths I’d go to, to get what I wanted, who I wanted.
They’d say I was obsessed.
I called it love.
I remember the first day I saw her, how she looked, how I instantly felt. It had been hot outside, slightly humid, unusual for the time of the year. She’d had a sheen of perspiration on her temple, and I’d wanted to run my tongue along it, gather it up so I’d take a part of her into me.
I remember the first time I saw her like it was yesterday.
The first day she’d put her spell on me.
The first day I’d fallen in love with her.
The first day I’d become obsessed.
I’d known from that moment on, no other would have her. She was mine, and I’d make her see that.
She’d walked into the classroom in this white sundress, these little black flowers splattered across it like spilled ink. Her dark hair had been piled high on her head almost haphazardly, like she’d been running late and hadn’t known what to do with it.
Strands had fallen down as if she’d been running, the tie in her hair unable to keep the locks in place. Her cheeks had been pink, and I’d wondered if they’d be that color when she felt pleasure.
Her breathing had been rapid, her chest rising and falling, her breasts pressed against the bodice of her dress, her nipples hard as they’d poked against the thin material.
She’d apologized to everyone she’d walked by as she made her way to her seat, and I followed her the entire time, tracked her with my gaze, unable to pull my focus off her.
