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She had the skin of a goddess. Nothing that couldn't easily drive a weak man like me out of his mind.

Desperate longing spread through me. But what was I complaining about?

And I meant it. Everything she gave me was more than what I had had from her just a week ago. I knew what life without her felt like, and I would do anything to make sure it never happened to me again.

Ultimatum

Christopher Tyng

I hadn't gone jogging, but had spent another three hours in my office checking assignments.

Sometimes I had doubts about my job, even though I enjoyed teaching. But the girls' performance in my mythology seminars was disastrous. I didn't even want to get started on those in molecular biology.

Why were they even there if none of them seemed to be taking notes?

I turned the ring on my finger, finally clasping it to remind myself that I had no reason to be in a bad mood.

My phone rang.

With raised eyebrows, I stared at the display.

What did he want from me at this hour?

“Miles?” I answered his call.

“Quentin.”

Miles hesitated.

“I'm afraid you have a problem.”

I rose from my chair.

“Someone broke into your house.”

Chapter 60

Julie

Criminal Investigation Files

RealTunesStudio

We stood in our jackets on the gravel path of the campus district where the historic professors' residences were located. The cool night wind blew through the gnarled trees, eliciting a rough creaking sound that mingled with the occasional cawing of ravens. The only source of light was the Victorian lanterns lining the path.

I would have preferred to be somewhere else entirely. Under my blanket, cuddled up with Buddy, my phone in my hand, busy forgetting the time with Erik.

The mere memory of the chat from three hours ago brought back the butterflies and the pleasant warm feeling between my legs.

It was one thing to know what Erik could do to my mind. But knowing that it was Quentin, my professor, who wanted to touch me on one of the benches in his seminar room in a way that no Vanderwood professor should, erased my very last brain cells.

“This is it!” exclaimed Larissa, who had made it her mission to go through all the doorbell signs at an abnormal speed.

Bayla, Emely, and I turned simultaneously to the Tudor style house where Larissa was pacing back and forth on the porch, peering through the large Victorian windows with her hands on the panes, behind which blackness reigned.

It was a beautiful, venerable building, partially hidden behind trees. But I couldn't see much in the darkness.

“He doesn't seem to be home yet,” Bayla said with a shrug and walked over to Larissa.