chapter 5

Eliana's POV

For the next four days, I became a master of escape. The moment Professor Matthews dismissed class, I gathered my books with lightning speed and rushed toward the exit before he could call my name. During lectures, though, my eyes betrayed me completely. No matter how hard I tried to focus on my notes, my gaze would drift to where he stood at the podium. Every single time, I would find him already looking at me, as if he had been waiting for that exact moment. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension.

Outside of class, I took different routes across campus, ducked into bathrooms when I spotted his familiar silhouette, and generally acted like a woman on the run. The few times our paths crossed accidentally, I managed nothing more than a stiff "Good morning, Professor Matthews" before hurrying away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Tuesday morning, my phone buzzed with a text from Annabelle: *Meet me in classroom 204B. Faculty building. Urgent!*

My fingers flew across the screen: *What is going on?*

The message remained unread. No response came.

Worry knotted in my stomach as I changed direction toward the faculty building. Annabelle never used words like "urgent" unless something was seriously wrong. My heels clicked against the polished floors as I navigated the maze of corridors, searching for room 204B.

Four days. It had been four days since I fled from Professor Matthews' office like my clothes were on fire, and still I could not stop thinking about him. The way his cologne had surrounded me. The intensity in his blue eyes. The deliberate way he had positioned himself so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

I found the corridor Annabelle had described and walked quickly past numbered doors. 201... 203... The door to room 204A stood slightly ajar, but I paid it no attention as I searched for 204B.

A hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, yanking me sideways into the darkened room.

Terror locked my vocal cords as I opened my mouth to scream, but a large palm covered my lips before any sound could escape. The door slammed shut behind me with a finality that made my heart stop.

Then his scent hit me like a physical blow. Woodsy cologne mixed with something distinctly masculine that I had been trying to forget for four days straight. The room was dim, lit only by filtered sunlight through half-closed blinds, but I did not need to see his face to know who held me.

"Have you been avoiding me, Eliana?" His voice came out rough, gravelly, as if he had been holding his breath for days.

He stood so close that his chest nearly touched mine, so close that his breath warmed the skin of my face. My brain short-circuited, thoughts scattering like startled birds.

I tried to respond, but my words came out muffled against his palm. He seemed to realize his mistake and slowly lowered his hand, pressing one finger to his lips in a gesture for silence.

"What are you doing?" The words tumbled out in a harsh whisper. "What is going on?"

"You have been avoiding me. Why?" He moved his hands to either side of my shoulders, effectively trapping me against the wall. His lips hovered inches from mine, close enough that I could see the darker ring around his blue irises. Close enough that electricity seemed to arc between us.

"I am not avoiding you, sir." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.

God, why did he have to be so close? Why did the sight of him make my knees forget how to hold my weight?

"I think we both know that is not true." One hand left my shoulder to brush a strand of hair away from my face, his fingers gentle against my temple. "Ever since that day in my office, you have gone to considerable lengths to ensure our paths do not cross."

"I— I have been busy," I stammered, but the excuse sounded pathetic even to my own ears.

His hand traced a slow path down the side of my face, his thumb skimming across my cheekbone with feather-light pressure. Goosebumps scattered down my arms, and I bit my lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

"Busy avoiding me." His finger moved with deliberate slowness to outline my lips, tracing their shape like he was memorizing them. "Are you scared of me, Eliana?"

"No." The word came out breathless, barely audible.

But it was another lie. I was terrified—not of him, but of the way my body responded to his touch like I was a instrument and he knew exactly how to play me. I was scared of the parts of myself that I had buried after Patrick, the parts that wanted to lean into his touch instead of running away.

"What is it then? Are you attracted to me?" He leaned closer until his lips brushed against mine, the lightest possible contact that made my vision blur around the edges.

My brain flatlined. Heat pooled low in my belly, and I had to press my palms against the wall behind me to keep from reaching for him.

"Are you attracted to me, Eliana?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a whisper that made me shiver. "I see the way you look at me during class. I notice how your breathing changes when I am near you."

"Are you not married?" The question burst out of me like a lifeline, the one rational thought I could still form.

He pulled back slightly, cupping my chin in his warm palm. "My wife and I are separated. I am free to do whatever I want." His thumb traced across my lower lip. "Whatever I want, Eliana."

The way he said my name made something clench deep inside me. I felt exposed, like he could see straight through all my carefully constructed walls to the want I was trying so desperately to hide.

"Please," I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for.

One eyebrow rose in question. "Please what?"

"Let me go." Even as I said it, my body screamed in protest.

"Are you sure that is what you want?" His finger traced a path down my throat, over my collarbone, coming to rest in the hollow between my breasts. That simple touch sent fire racing through my veins. I squirmed against the wall, my body betraying me completely as warmth pooled between my thighs.

"Yes. No. I do not know," I cried out, and his finger immediately moved back to my lips.

"Shhh," he murmured, and I nodded frantically. "I am going to let you go, but first..."

His mouth captured mine, and every coherent thought vanished. His lips were softer than I had imagined during all those restless nights, and they tasted like coffee and something sweet that made me hungry for more. A moan escaped my throat as he deepened the kiss, and I parted my lips to give him the access he demanded.

His hand settled on my waist while the other tangled in my hair. Without thinking, my fingers fisted in his shirt, holding on for dear life as electricity shot from my lips to every nerve ending in my body. I closed my eyes and let myself drown in the sensation.

Then suddenly, cruelly, he was gone.

My eyes snapped open to see him already at the door, his back rigid as he reached for the handle. Without a word, without even a backward glance, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, leaving me alone in the darkness.

I stared at the closed door in complete shock, my lips still tingling from his kiss, my body still humming with unfulfilled desire.

What had just happened? Was he not going to finish what he started?

I waited in the silent room, my eyes fixed on the door, certain he would return. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty.

Reality crashed over me like cold water. He was not coming back. He had kissed me until I could not think straight, then left me wanting more.

Frustration boiled in my chest as I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the room. I needed to find a bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and figure out how to pretend this had never happened.