Page 128 of Drown Like Heaven
I blinked, feeling completely transparent, unable to hide from him. There was no possible way he could actually hear my heartbeat, but the insinuation was enough to make sweat accumulate on my spine. Even with three books covering my chest, he could see right through me.
“I can’t control that,” I breathed out.
To anyone watching, it might look like an innocent conversation between a professor and his student. We weren’t standing scandalously close, weren’t in any sort of compromising position, but that hungry stare felt like a hand between my legs, like two fingers wedged inside of me.
The severity of his total attention made my knees weak.
“It’s even faster now,” he commented. “So quick. Are you afraid?”
“No.” I shook my head, maybe feeling like I was lying.
“No?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then why’s your heart beating so fast?”
Because of you.
All I could think about was him crowding me against this bookshelf, blocking me with his body, shoving his hand down the front of my jeans. My clit surged, aching against the seam of my jeans.
“Careful,” he warned hoarsely.
For a split second, I wondered if he could somehow read my thoughts. The notion of that made my face even redder, but I swallowed down my nerves.
“Careful, why?”
“You don’t think it’s appropriate to be cautious?”
“Not always, no.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” At some point, I’d started leaning closer to him, as if I could feel some magnetic pull in his direction. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hand would feel closing around my throat—tighter, tighter, until I had nothing left to give him.
“I’ll see you this weekend. Bring the textbooks,” he instructed. “And my dissertation, if you’re still curious.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
He left, and I watched him until he was out of sight.
Chapter 34
Dakota
“You don’t do neon research anymore,” I commented, half-questioning, idly flipping through Dr. Killshaw’s bound dissertation. He didn’t stop his work on the distillation column as my voice cut through the quietness.
I kicked my feet, the soles of my boots hitting the metal stool in a quiet rhythm. The column had been running for almost three hours at this point, and I was feeling a bit antsy. Some of our downtime had been spent going through those textbooks I’d checked out from the library, Dr. Killshaw helping me a lot more then the printed words, but I’d finished that assignment now. We would probably stop work to get lunch soon—or so I assumed.
“No,” Dr. Killshaw answered. “I used to, in school. I’ve since moved on.”
“To sustainability,” I surmised.
“Sure.”
He turned back to the computer, adjusting things on a variety of programs. There had been less work for me to do today, since it was a true full-day run, which had allowed me to spend more time working on my assignments. This run would give results he really needed for his research. It was a trial he wasn’t going to give me any chances to screw up.
Unlike last time, when I botched the separation and then got flustered trying to answer questions afterwards.
