Page 54 of The Professor's Possession (Crystal River Billionaire Brothers)

I was reading Wuthering Heights in my room, and then there was a knock at the door…

25

OLIVIA

As I sitin the college library, endeavoring to study my little ass off, I feel like someone’s watching me. Eyes boring into me from behind.

And it’s freaking scary.

I look up and around in the silent room, trying to find those eyes.

But no one in the library is even glancing in my direction. It’s like I’m invisible.

But I can’t shake that feeling of being observed.

It’s not busy in here; there are only a few scattered students, like me, attempting to get their work done. Everyone’s got their head down. Focused.

But that feeling won’t leave me...

After the dream the other night - starring Professor Penmayne barging into my room and kissing me - my mind has been a total mess, even more than it was before. Even more than it was after that private notes session at his place. I need to worry less about my dreamy professor and more about the actual study at hand.

You know, the study you came to college to do, Olivia.

I sigh and close my textbook. Maybe some reading might be good for me. Prescribed reading for my English Lit class. I’m going to search for the library’s copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which is one of the texts that Professor Penmayne has ordered us to browse.

I go cruising through the rows of books, my eyes tracing the spines as I gradually make my way toward the book I’m looking for. It’s at the back of the library, away from others, and a few rows deep.

It should be here... yep, there it is.

Found it.

I go to reach for it.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

I spin on my feet. Professor Penmayne is standing right behind me. Watching me like a lion stalking his prey.

“Spencer Penmayne?”

So my feeling wasn’t imaginary. Someone was watching me.

“I want you to call me professor while we’re at college,” he snarls. I don’t know if he’s simply joking or uttering a command.

Like the command in your dream when he told you to sit on your bed?

“Sorry.”

He takes a step toward me.

“You’re blushing,” he says. “You like to blush, don’t you?”

“It’s hot,” I reply hastily. A pitiful excuse. “It’s very hot in here.”

The professor slowly lifts his hand to my face, touching my cheek. He holds it there for a lingering second before he drops it back to his side. I gasp at his touch. His hand is ice cold.

When his touch leaves me, I feel empty.

This close to me, I can practicallyinhalehim. He smells like he did in my dream.That wild mountain air...

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