Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Kelly frowns, eyeing me.
“Your shirt is unbuttoned, Oliver.”
I swallow. Shit.
I glance down, and sure enough my top two buttons are undone. Not to mention, the whole shirt is untucked. I look back up at Kelly and shrug as casually as I can.
“Intense lesson,” I say with a smile. “I can get pretty deep into it.”
More like deep into Anastasia’s sweet, perfect little pussy, I growl to myself.
Kelly’s scowl doesn’t go away as she watches me tuck in and button up my shirt.
“We have a dress code here, Oliver. A code of conduct.”
“Thank you, Kelly, I’m aware,” I say thinly.
She blinks, her eyes burning into me. “I’m watching you, Oliver.”
I frown. “For?”
She smiles thinly, stepping towards me.
“Turning me down was not a smart move,” she mutters angrily. “I’m not an enemy you want to have.”
I roll my eyes. “Kelly, I don’t feel as though you and I would be approp—”
“I’m watching you, Oliver,” she spits one more time, before turning on her heel and storming from the classroom.
Well, fuck.
I know I should be worried, but I’m not. I’m too wrapped up in Ana to feel anything but what she makes me feel—whole, complete, at peace. She makes me feel things I never thought I would, and never imagined I would with a girl her age. But, there’s no pretending I don’t, and there’s no ignoring what I know is burning hot between us.
So, fuck Kelly Lyne.
I step into my attached office and wait for whatever students are going to be dropping by for office hours. But my every thought is on Ana. Ana, and seeing her later, and what comes next.
10
Anastasia
“Wait, are you sure this is okay?”
Oliver turns and grins at me the low glow of the dashboard light—that grin that sends a shiver through me and an aching lust for him. I mean good freaking God is he wickedly attractive.
“It’s gonna be fine, beautiful,” he purrs, dropping a hand to my bare knee as he turns the wheel, pulling the black Audi into museum parking lot.
It’s date night. Specially, it’s our date night. As you might imagine, “date night” presents some, well, challenges when you’re eighteen, at a private boarding school, and when your date is your government professor. Needless to say, we are not out in Southworth. Instead, Oliver’s driven us an hour and a half away, to a new exhibit on Renaissance paintings at a local University art museum. The chances are pretty minimal that anyone we know will recognize us, but I’m still jittery in my seat.
Back at Winchester, I’m “in a private study session”—one that I’ve even had staff approval to stay at the library past dorm curfew for. And yes, the signature on my special library privileges card is Oliver’s. But instead, here I am ninety miles away in a sleek, slinky black cocktail dress that toes the line between sexy and sophisticated, with a very gorgeous date helping me out of the car. Oliver’s in a dark suit, no tie, with maybe one more dress-shirt button undone than might be appropriate. Trust me, I am not complaining.
The valet takes his keys, doing his damnedest not to stare at the two of us. If Oliver notices though, he just brushes it off. At the front entrance to the exhibit opening, an older, stuffy looking man taking tickets gives us the same look, his eyes darting between us, and then frowning slightly as Oliver’s hand slides possessively over my waist as if to say “yeah, she’s mine.”
I shiver at the thought, both of us ignoring the man’s look as we stroll into the gallery hall.
“I’m going to get us some drinks,” Oliver purrs into my ear, his hand stroking the bare skin of my arm. “You okay to look around?”
I turn, biting my lip and grinning as I nod. “Yeah. Wait, drinks?”
He arches a brow. “Yeah, soda for you, young lady.”
“Awww, not even one glass of wine?” I wag my brows at him, teasing him.
“I’m crossing enough ethical boundaries with you, don’t you think?”
I giggle, and then, not even really caring who sees us, I pull close to him, stand up on my toes in my strappy black heels, and kiss him—slowly, deeply, passionately, before I pull away with a wink.
“You…” he growls, shaking his head and raking his nails over the scruff on his jaw. His eyes burn right into mine with a fierce hunger.
“I think you’re going to get me in trouble,” he purrs.
I blush, beaming widely as he gives me a final wink and then turns to head for the bar. I start to stroll, taking in the paintings on loan from private collections in Europe, drinking it all in.
“Lovely, aren’t they?”
I turn and smile at an older woman in taupe, her silvered hair pulled back in this severe looking bun and pearls across her neck.