Page 11 of Forbidden Obsession

Her eyes widened. “How?”

“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?”

“I want to know everything about you, Dominic.”

Heat slid down my skin and the nerves in my body were hyperaware of her touch.

“There’s no reason to fill yourself with that information.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I mocked. “There is no purpose behind such an invasion.”

“We could be friends, and…” she shrugged, “…maybe more.”

“Penelope. You are a student at the institution I work for. If there are cameras in this elevator, the evidence could destroy my career. Do you want that?”

“You said nothing could ruin you.”

My lips spread into a smile. Ah, she listens.

“Penelope.”

“To answer your question, no. But no one has to know about us.”

“You’re trouble.”

“Kiss me, professor,” she whispered.

I was tempted. So fuckin’ tempted I listened to my dick instead of my brain and gripped her thighs, lifted her, and pushed my pelvis into her open legs.

“Penelope…”

“Yes. Just like this.”

I nibbled up her jaw, smashed my lips into her mouth, and inhaled her tongue. Our bodies burst with fever as sensations fled down my skin and hers.

“Oooooh…”

The moan that slipped from her mouth made me press harder into her and my dick pushed into her panties as I indulged in the flavor of her mouth.

Ding!

The elevator doors opened, and I dropped Penelope to her feet, exited quickly, and turned to stare at her as they closed promptly.

4

Penelope

The next day

He left me panting like a horny teenager inside that elevator.

A brief string of wind whipped around my face as I sat on the balcony of my condo the following day. It was too cold to sit outside in the open air, so I was thankful for the custom windows I had added to the outside deck. They shielded me from the harsh temperatures, whether intense heat or sharp, cool winds, while allowing me to relax outside and enjoy the view in relative comfort.

Today, my girls and I were having brunch, and they were chit-chatting away about campus parties and the jocks they planned to seduce. At the same time, all I could concentrate on was dark gray eyes, a strong jawline, a black beard and goatee, and an irresistibly spicy, pussy-throbbing scent that wrapped around me like a blanket.

I must have been out of my mind. Professor Lucas—or Dominic—had always been mysterious to me. Rumors around campus—depending on who you heard them from—made him out to be either a friendly do-gooder or a dark prince. Over the last four years at Manhattan Excellence & Arts University, I focused mainly on my studies and only daydreamed about what type of person Professor Lucas might be.

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