Page 9 of Such a Bad Girl

The page before me swam as I lost my concentration to the memory of the previous day. Professor Montgomery, Henry, had pinned me to the wall, and I’d nearly lost my mind. The stares in class had been impossible to ignore, but his following me down after the lecture had come as a surprise.

Albeit, not an unwelcome one.

Because he’d been right. I wanted him as much as he professed to want me.

Chills had taken over my every nerve as he’d dropped his lips to mine. Close. Sofuckingclose to kissing me. Locking lips with my professor was, intellectually, a bad idea, of course. The price could be too high for both of us. But the same way his eyes dragged over me when he lectured, I’d gone through a million dirty fantasies with him. Imagining him on his knees in front of the class, his head buriedbetween my thighs, had made me lose half a page of notes on multiple occasions.

Fantasising about him was the last thing I should be doing. I needed to stay focused on my goal.

With a sigh, I concentrated until the words on the page made sense again.

My back ached by the time the librarian gave me a nod, heading off to her office for what I presumed was a vat of coffee to keep her awake. A few tables still held other weary students, looking as bleary-eyed as I felt. The warmth of the ancient heating system often lulled me halfway to sleep.

Standing, I stretched, feeling my lower back crack as I attempted to get the blood moving again. A quick walk through the stacks often did the trick. After that first night, I’d failed to hear anything that might send me screaming again. Just thousands of dusty books. I adored walking through the aisles, letting my finger drift from spine to spine while imagining all the people who’d held each book before me. Admiring their fading covers and gold-filled lettering. A catacomb of forgotten texts. Some, of course, were still used, but most were long outdated by the scholars and books who came after.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled, the scent of aging paper filling my nostrils.

Peace.

Truly, a walk through the corridors of stories and knowledge centred me. Feeling a renewed sense of clarity, I turned to head back to my table. But something to my left glittered on the floor, near the base of a bookshelf. It lay deeper into the stacks, barely visible.

My brows knitted as I looked around, but there was nothing to see or hear but the silver glint.

My curiosity piqued, and I made my way to it, stooping with a smile as I recognised the item. Grandmother’s pen.

The spark of joy lasted only a second before a warm hand fit over my mouth from behind and dragged me into the depths.

Kicking and turning proved ineffective against the person’s bulk, the arms around me like bands of solid steel. The pen dropped with a clatter and the man holding me stilled before thrusting me against a bookcase.

My chest thundered as I struggled, but a breathy voice growled in my ear. ‘Make one more noise and I’ll gag that pretty mouth of yours with your wet panties. Shoving them down far enough that you won’t be able to yell.’

I tried to say ‘Get off,’ but the hot palm over my mouth swallowedthe words.

Pinned between the shelves and a hard body, I had little choice but to comply.

A hand grasped my hip, pinching hard before pressing upward, exploring my curves. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I swallowed a scream.

‘Bex,’ he groaned.

I relaxed against him. ‘Professor?’

‘Who else were you expecting?’ There was a heated jealousy beneath his words that had my cheeks heating.

‘No one. But we can’t. You know that.’ His fingers slid down my top, under my bra, and pinched the hardening nipple he found. A gasp tore from me at the bite of pain that washed quickly with pleasure.

‘Tell me you want me to stop.’

I didn’t. I ground back against the hardness pressing into my ass.

‘You’re a fucking temptress, Bex. You’ve been taunting me since the moment you walked into my class.’ Releasing my mouth, he grabbed my ponytail, pulling my head harshly to the side, his words hot against my ear. ‘I’ve stood outside your window and watched you grind on your hand to some other boy, night after night, and I’m here to show you that you deserve more. My fingers should be the ones making you squirm.’

‘You don’tunder?—’

Rendered mute by the thrusting of his hand beneath my skirt, my words died in a guttural moan.

‘Fucking soaked already,’ he said, pushing my panties down until they slid to the floor.

I couldn’t help it. Him snatching what he wanted had my temperature soaring. The obsession. The need. The taking. I was a goner.

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