“Can’t you just help, Professor? It’syourmeeting after all.”
“Ms. Anderson’s presence in the archives requires staff supervision. So no. I can’t leave until she does.”
“Somakeher leave.”
My nose scrunches up. When I turn my head, I see her glaring at me through the shelves.
Sutton’s expression matches hers, though I’m not sure why. Hecouldmake me leave if he really wanted to, but he was the one who agreed to let me in. Maybe he’s trying to save face for it or hoping I’ll forget our encounter in the forest.
Maybe my existence disturbs him, the way his has me since the day we met.
“Mr. Abbott,” Sutton repeats, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument—and my knees wobbly.
Lexington grumbles something under his breath but heads for the door anyway.
“Are you serious?” Sabrina whines.
“Keep irritating me, and I’ll revoke your status as treasurer,” Sutton says.
She lets out a loud huff, turning as Lexington walks past her. Each stomp is audible as she ascends the stairs, rattling the lights dangling from the ceiling between exposed wooden rafters.
Leaving me alone with the man I’m supposed to be avoiding.
21
SUTTON
I’m not planningon saying a word to the temptress across the room. I’m happy to just watch from afar where she’s tucked between bookshelves in her little black dress with the bell sleeves and sheer tights clinging to her long legs, bending over to squint at the spines of journals like something straight out of a porno.
The snake charm she wears around her neck at all times feels appropriate.
She breaks the silence without facing me. “Did you have to sendeveryoneaway?”
I clear my throat, listening for sounds of someone else entering the stairwell. She has no idea just how close she is to the fucking carnage that would love to get its hooks in her. Down the hall and below us.
“Thought you could use a little distraction-free reading,” I reply.
“Distraction-free, huh?” She snorts. “If you say so.”
My chest tightens. I slide my hands into my pants pockets just for something to do while I wait.
Her shadow appears in my peripheral vision as she comes around one side of the bookcase. I resist the urge to look—or try to anyway. She bends again, dropping a new addition onto the pile of periodicals and journals she brought with her, and I get a flash of her ass in those tights as her dress rides up.
Fuck.
I swallow. Hard.
She spares me the slightest glance, smoothing her hands down over the fabric. Like she knows exactly what she just did.
I’m fucking starving.
Unable to sit still in the ensuing silence as she turns back to her task, I wander a bit closer, hands still in my pockets.
The pile of books grows at her feet, and I wonder if she even knows what she’s looking for.
“Can I help you with something?”
“You can go away.”
