Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
That had been the beginning of the benign requests and menial tasks.
Reorganize the beakers.
Rewash the beakers.
File these papers alphabetically. File these numerically.
Make these copies and organize the packets.
Go to the chemistry department and help them move the centrifuge up to our floor.
I was waiting for him to ask me to get on the floor and spit-shine his shoes. I ground my jaw at each request. I hadn’t hoped today would’ve been any better after his completely ignoring my existence in class, but I hadn’t expected him to keep me late. Again.
It made me want to regret having let anything happen between us, but I didn’t. Not really. I missed the friendship we’d formed. I missed sharing lunches with him and laughing over our easy banter. That was the most painful part of all of this.
Even though staying late on a night I had off from Voyeur and could catch up on homework was a close second.
I walked to his office and stared at his head bent over some papers. I knew he knew I was there, but he refused to look up and acknowledge me. Why bother?
“I’m done with everything, Dr. Pierce.” I made sure to stress his name, so he had no doubt I felt his cold shoulder.
“Another thirty minutes and I’ll be ready to lock up. You can help me,” he said, not even bothering to look up.
That was enough. It was after seven and even if we hadn’t shared our experience, I wouldn’t stand for this disrespect. I was sick and tired of him acting like an asshole. I had more than two months left with him, and I wasn’t going to let him think he could walk all over me.
“You can’t keep me here.”
That got his attention. Finally, his head lifted, and he stared at me with blank eyes.
“Excuse me, Miss Derringer?”
I scowled at the Miss Derringer. A small flicker of something crossed his eyes. Too fast for me to see. I stomped, like a child throwing a temper tantrum, further into the room and slammed the door. No one was around, and the heavy wood banging shut made me feel better.
“I may only be a teenager and you’re my professor, but you can’t take advantage of me like this.”
He laughed. Actually laughed. My eyebrows rose high on my forehead. His head fell back, and mouth opened around the deep rumble escaping into the room to taunt me. I took a deep breath and furrowed my brows. His chest shook with humor he couldn’t seem to contain.
“This is not fucking funny,” I growled.
Getting himself under control, his eyes were no longer blank when he looked at me. The blue almost glowed in the dimly lit room. I took an involuntary step back as his gaze raked over me, each inch of my body igniting with his stare.
“Oaklyn, trust me when I tell you I see you as anything but a teenager. Anything but my student.”
The way he said my name after refusing to all week, felt like a gift.
“Then what?” I asked with less fire and anger than had fueled me a moment before, but no less frustration.
He stared, his eyes dropping to my mouth as my tongue slicked across my lips. Then they dropped even further to his desk. He nudged a pen that was already in line with the one next to it, then a stack of papers that was already straight. His hand seemed to float across the desk, looking for a distraction rearranging anything they came across.
My irritation grew with every item that he moved just a fraction of an inch. It bloomed in my chest, squeezing my lungs. Each second I waited for an answer, it spread until I was ready to explode. I stomped the last two steps to his desk, snatched the pens up, and tossed them down on the ground.
His head jerked to the floor where the three pens lay scattered, then it slowly turned toward me. His brows furrowed, his jaw clamped shut, the muscle clenching in his cheek, his breathing growing heavy. He looked like a bull ready to charge.
Well I was fucking ready.
I threw my arms wide. “Huh?” I shouted. “What do you see when you look at me?” I had wanted the question to come out strong and demanding. Instead it slipped out as a desperate plea.
Dr. Pierce pushed his chair back and stood, not taking his eyes off me as he moved to stand directly in front of me, towering over me. My neck arched so I could hold his gaze and I had to fight from taking the last step to close the gap between our bodies. He looked over my face, and I almost whimpered when I watched his tongue roll across his lips.
I thought I knew his answer, but nothing prepared me for what he said next.