Page 53 of Love on the Ice

His lips curve up into a smile that causes my throat to close up. I don’t know what to do. What to say. So, I simply stay frozen and stare, like a doe caught in headlights, because that’s exactly what I am right now.

“You, Lorelai.”

“Why?” I ask.

My mind races, and I know that the only way I’m going to buy myself any time is if I stall. So I try to stall. With every fiber of my being, I try to stall. He takes a step toward me, then another. I don’t move, though, still frozen like a doe as he approaches me.

When he stops directly in front of me, I hold my breath, waiting for whatever he’s going to say… or do next.

“You didn’t see anything the other day, did you?” he asks, his voice low.

Shaking my head from side to side, I whisper my one-word answer. “Nothing.”

I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I know nothing.

Professor MacDonald lifts his hand and cups my cheek. I want to vomit at his touch. It’s not overly sexual, but it’s enough to make me shiver with disgust and want to vomit right here on his shoes.

Swallowing down the bile, I keep myself from being sick, but I really want to. All over him. Mainly because he’s disgusting. I don’t want his touch anywhere near me. I don’t want him anywhere near me. I want him to walk away, and I never want to lay eyes on him again.

“Your little boyfriend threatened me, but I haven’t seen him lately. Maybe you’ll give him a message for me.”

I’m not sure what to do. My breath hitches, but I hold it as I stare into his eyes. The asshole. The complete and utter asshole. He chuckles but doesn’t drop his hand from my face. His eyes are bright. He’s enjoying this, and I hate him even more.

I cannot believe this man is a college professor. I’ve never been treated like this before. As my heart slams against my chest harder and faster than it ever has before, I can’t help but wonder who else he’s made feel this way. How many girls has he done this to? And will he ever stop?

No.

I already know the answer. He is enjoying the power far too much to ever stop. This is the sole purpose of his coming to work to teach each day. He’s getting off on choosing a student, watching that student, and then making it almost impossible for them to turn him down.

It’s a game for him.

And now that I’m not playing, he’s fixated on me. I’m not bowing down to him. I’m ignoring him. And Reid went to him and told him to stay away, which made him want to come to me more. This man is vile.

“Good,” he purrs. “Now, be a good girl and give me what I want as a show of faith.”

Suddenly, it’s like a different entity takes over my body completely. I think about Reid going to him for me. I think about this man using Jill and trying to blackmail me. I think about it all, the images flashing through my mind over and over.

And whatever overtakes me, it also goes through me. I lift my knee and slam it into his nuts. Only then does his hand fall from my face. Finally, I feel a sense of freedom wash over me because he’s no longer touching me.

Shifting past him, I run for the door. He’s moaning in the background, but I ignore him as I pull the door open. There is rustling behind me, but I ignore that, too, as I try to get out of the laundry room.

My feet feel slow. I try to move them faster. I try to run, but it feels like I’m running on sand and getting nowhere. Moving down the hall, I try to make my way to the front desk, where I know my coworkers are and can call the police.

When I almost reach the lobby, I open my mouth to call out for help, but not a single sound escapes my lips. I don’t actually reach the lobby. Instead, an arm wraps around my waist, and I’m thrown against the wall.

My head bounces off the Sheetrock with the force. He covers my mouth as he leans forward, and I feel his lips against my ear before he speaks.

“This is not over. I will have you.”

“No,” I finally scream against his hand.

The noise must be loud enough that someone in the front hears me. Footsteps sound down the hallway. My only saving grace is that this man doesn’t hear the same steps that I do. Otherwise, I know for sure he would slither away like the snake he is.

“Stop right there,” Richard, the front desk evening manager, shouts.

Then, my vision goes completely dark. Almost as if I’m in a tunnel.

REID

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