Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
"We're so sorry to disturb you, Professor. It's not what it looks like. I was just helping..." He glances down at my face with a dopey sweet smile, and I realize he's waiting for the professor, who gives him exactly what he wants.
"Maybel?"
He winks at me. "Maybel...she took a little spill. I was just helping her up."
The professor glances back and forth between us, then marches away without another word.
What the hell!? Anger rushes to the surface, and I shove at his chest hard, but he doesn't budge. Not even an inch. It’s like trying to move a slab of concrete.
"Maybel, is it? I think I prefer wallflower. It suits you better."
He spreads his fingers so he can touch as much of my back as he can. When his hand slides lower to cup my ass, I give him another hard shove to break away from him. "How dare you?"
His mask slips away, and I see his real face again. Boredom, arrogance, and obsession reflect back at me. He’s looking at me like he owns me, but I'm too stupid to know it yet. "Oh, this is only the beginning, little flower. You have no idea the things I could do to you. I could hurt you a little. Break you. Rip those petals off that lush little body you try so desperately to hide." He leans into me, and I can smell the mint on his breath, both brisk and biting. "But you've fucked up, miscalculated, because I see you, and you're fucking doomed. There’s no escaping me now."
Those words should terrify me, and they do, of course, but the tiniest, weird, feral part of my brain throws caution to the wind. There’s a dark secret lurking inside me, one I’ve never confessed to a soul, a fantasy I’ve never explored, the desire to be taken against my will, to be completely helpless and at another person’s mercy, and this man, as terrifying as he is, sparks that reminder, igniting me with new life. The way he looks at me, not like he’s looking through me, but inside me, to see all my flaws and broken pieces… He wants me for more than just homework help. He wants me for me.
And that’s enough fuckery for me. I swallow hard and turn to walk away. Surprisingly, he allows me to go, and I rush toward the stacks, thinking I can skirt the other shelf and get back to the main room as fast as possible. What I don't count on is the prick following me. As if he anticipated a chase, he’s hot on my heels, his long legs eating up the distance like it’s nothing.
Run, little flower. Run as fast as you can. I can practically hear his voice in my head. What’s wrong with me?
I force my legs to move faster, running deeper into the stacks instead, hoping to fake him out, but he's right there, so close. His breath fans across the back of my neck, tickling, stirring the flyaway hairs and shooting goose bumps down my spine.
I don't bother looking back as I speak. "Go away, you psycho."
"'Go away, you psycho,'" he mocks. "I think I want that on my tombstone."
I walk a little faster. "Keep following me, and I’ll personally make sure it gets done.”
“Which part? The one where you inevitably end up in my bed moaning my name? Or the tombstone?” A soft chuckle reaches my ears. The sound is even more disconcerting than him touching me.
Relief fills my veins when I reach the other side of the stacks. The second I get a foot of distance between us, I take a hard right into the main area and walk straight to my tattered bag. The temptation to turn around and see if he’s still following me throbs at the back of my mind, but I don’t dare feed into his psychotic game. Instead, I continue forward, rushing toward the library doors which lead outside to my escape.
Once the cool fall air brushes my cheeks, I suck a ragged breath into my lungs, letting it clear my senses. What the fuck was that back there? Who the hell was that guy? As the adrenaline wears off, my paranoia spikes.
He made such a big deal about learning my name, but he never told me his…
I peer over my shoulder to see if he’s still following me, but there’s no one. I swear I can still hear his laughter behind me as I push forward. Fuck. It would be my luck that the second I meet a hot guy, crazy but hot, he'd be an absolute psycho. I’ve been so focused on my studies, taking care of my mom, and helping to make ends meet that dating has been pushed to the back burner entirely. Now, the one time there is interest from someone, it’s some random guy chasing me around the library, ordering me to tell him my name. No, thank you.