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7

Cathy

I duck my head and ignore my prickling skin as I focus on keeping in the center of the crowd of students shuffling into Professor Black’s lecture room.

It’s been four days.

Four days of hiding.

Four days of working dawn to dusk in the library.

Four days of remembering how it was to be held by a man who wanted me for me.

Four days of cursing because I can’t get Jonathan Black out of my head even though he’s strictly hands-off.

It’s not right to be this obsessed. But no one ever accused me of being in my right mind. I’m not exactly a girl with a normal upbringing.

I tilt my back and put several students between myself and my professor as I climb the stairs to the seats at the back of the lecture theater. My every awareness is fine-tuned to the man standing behind the podium, scanning the crowd with eyes so vivid blue they could be fake.

Looking for me.

He’s not the only one.

The ball in my stomach turns to barbed wire at the thought of Chris being on campus. I cleaned out my account, transferring the money he demanded, leaving me with nothing. He’ll demand more if he catches me and I have no idea how to pay him. The best I can do is hide. Hide and pretend he’ll go away.

And unicorns fart rainbows and sparkles too.

I slide into a seat in the back row of the theater, wishing I could fade into the furniture. My heart rate ramps up and my skin tingles as I swing my gaze around the room to snag on Jonathan.

He’s looking straight at me, eyes burning bright.

The pressure at the base of my skull thickens and my nipples bead as pressure zips straight to my core. I clench my legs when my clit throbs.

I sink into my seat, only now understanding that getting out of here without him stopping me is impossible. Should have taken the seat nearest the door.

I pull my hoodie over my head, sink into the seat and open my laptop.

A flicker of color catches my eye in the doorway.

A bolt of lightning jags through the center of my head. Presses my temples apart. Strikes my heart.

Not a color.

Him.

Chris is here? He found my class?

Every molecule in my body freezes. My vision grays around the edges. Chatter stops as everyone takes in how his black jeans mold to his muscular thighs and his broad shoulders fill out his sweatshirt. He’s every American girl and guy’s wet-dream. And he knows it.

Chris’s gaze follows Jonathan’s. Of course it does. His gaze tangles with mine and a smirk tugs his lips. A girl whispers behind me. If she only knew what he’s really like.

Chris walks up the stairs toward me. I’m thankfully surrounded by other students. He takes a seat close enough that it will be hard to lose him in the exit crush.

Jonathan speaks but I have no clue what he says because I’m about to hyperventilate. I suck air into my heaving lungs, trying to steady my breathing but it’s impossible. In. Out. In. Out. The lights go off and I sink into the darkness as Jonathan conducts his presentation. I’m so stuck in my head, it seems as though only seconds pass until the press of voices and moving bodies signaling the end of the class lifts me from my stupor.

I grab my laptop and bag and launch from my seat. I push into bodies, heedless of complaints, and stumble down the steps. I reach the floor, my eyes on the open door to freedom.

“Miss Evans?” My thighs bunch, preparing to run from the man with the power to rattle my foundations when a hand clamps around my bicep.

I look up into Chris’s face. My arm burns where his fingers clamp down. The scent of my fear flows to my nose, acrid and sharp. I don’t care. All I care about is getting Chris’s fingers off me. My pulse hammers in his hold. “Don’t –”

“Let go of her!” Jonathan’s sharp tone commands.

I stagger when Chris releases me but I refuse to rub my arm where I still feel his fingers on me.

Jonathan’s intelligent gaze slides from me to Chris. “Is there a problem here, Mr. Adam?”

Chris raises his hands and lifts his brows to feign surprise. “Just thought I’d say hello to an old friend. I was going to ask her out for a coffee. To catch up on old times.”

A frown forms on Jonathan’s brow, the vivid blue of his eyes darkening. “Old friend?”

“He’s more of an acquaintance,” I say.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Ste—Miss Evans?” Jonathan catches himself.

I wrap my arms around my laptop, feeling the hard edges dig into my stomach. “No. Nothing. I just need to get to my next class.” That’s a lie. I need to hide before Chris can make more demands of me.

Jonathan’s gaze roams my face. I reach up and adjust my hair so that it falls over my cheeks.

“You look tired, Miss Evans.” He sees me.

Dangerous.

He looks tired as well. I know why.

Doubly dangerous.

“I should go.” I take a step back.

“Have you teamed up with anyone for the group assignment yet?’ Jonathan asks me.

“Group assignment? Great! You can help me with that—Cathy,” Chris says.

The muscles across my shoulders go rigid, driving my shoulders to my ears. The last thing I need or want is to work on a group assignment with Chris. He would destroy me.

“I’ll assign you to a group more fitting to your experience in this class, Mr. Adam,” Jonathan says.

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