Page 127 of Drown Like Heaven
He handed over the textbook.
I reached for it, my fingers pressing into the glossy sheen of the hardback—but he didn’t let go.
My gaze flicked upwards.
The way he watched me was making my pulse pound harder and harder with each additional second he didn’t let go of the book. My breathing became shaky and I sank my teeth into my lower lip.
He let go of the book, and I rapidly added it to my stack, holding all three books against my chest now.
“If you wanted to know about my Ph.D. you could’ve asked.”
I twisted my lips to the side, looking away from him. He didn’t move an inch, nor did he speak again, even as I let the air swell with tense silence. My fingers wrapped around the edges of the books, feeling the different textures of the covers.
“I didn’t want to overstep,” I answered finally, braving another look at his face.
He was so intimidatingly gorgeous. The overhead lights caught the planes of his face, painting shadows under his brows, darkening his eyes further.
“Overstep in what way?”
“You—” I cut myself off. “I need to go.”
“No, you don’t. Stay here. I’ll help you with whatever research you were hoping to do with those textbooks.”
My heart squeezed.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “You aren’t always…approachable.”
“We work alone together in my lab for hours at a time. Surely you can ask me a question if you have one.” His gaze sharpened, cutting me open, exposing all my darkest secrets and stupid fears.
“I don’t want to offend you,” I started, already regretting my words once again. “By asking personal questions.”
“That’s hardly personal, Dakota.”
“I know, I just…” My voice trailed away into silence. The aisle felt like it was getting narrower, the books creeping inwards, trapping me here, pushing everything closer.
Dr. Killshaw didn’t move; he didn’t step closer, nor did he move farther away. He remained standing in his place, never taking his eyes off me, continually making me more nervous. My palms started to sweat. I glanced around again, making sure we were alone.
“Why did you say that?” I whispered, barely audible, my eyes falling to his mouth.
“Say what?”
“That you would get me expelled.” I tipped my head back, leaning on the bookshelf, my gaze locking onto my professor’s. Heat flushed my cheeks, my chest.
“I didn’t say that,” he answered coolly.
“Yes, you—”
“I said Icouldget you expelled. I never said I would do it.”
All my words died on my tongue.
The careful distance between us suddenly felt sopurposeful. He wouldn’t take another step closer to me, leaving the respectful space unfilled by his body, and that realization almostmade me feel itmore. Like the chosen distance was an extension of him, and I felt it pushing into me.
“Do you really think I want to get you expelled?” he probed, his voice low, almost rough.
“I don’t know what I think.”
“Your heart is beating so fast, Masters,” he commented too casually. “It’s loud, too. Maybe too loud for the library.”
