Page 11 of Snowed in with the Professor

It was the feeling of warmth on my face that had me cautiously opening my eyes.

Everything was foggy for a moment, and I blinked a few times, my vision finally clearing as I peered out the window.

The flat was high up, and I could see buildings off in the distance.

I had no doubt there was a bustle below, yet I heard nothing save the sound of my effortless inhalations.

I felt my brows knit, a moment of confusion sinking in because I wasn’t sure where I was.

Suddenly it all came pouring back.

Professor Baldwin.

The Olive.

Sitting in his car and admitting things I probably should have kept to myself.

I sighed gently, raised my hand and massaging my forehead. I had a dreadful headache, one that was thumping just behind my eyes.

The aroma of all he was poured over me, through me. I really found myself turning my head farther into the cushion, closing my eyes, and inhaling deeply.

Dark and woodsy.

Potent.

Masculine.

Everything Professor Baldwin was.

I was crazy, laying in his bed, in his apartment, wondering how in the hell I was going to get through this humiliation.

I forced myself to sit up, my feet dangling over the bed, my toes nearly brushing the hard wooden floor.

I rubbed my feet together, glanced down and realized I had no pants on. I pushed the blanket totally off me, letting out a sigh of relief that my panties were still on and that I was still wearing my cardigan set.

One drink and this was the effect, this was how far I’d dropped in my values.

I tried to remember if I’d slept with him. God, if I had, this would grow so much worse. This would be a nightmare, even if the notion of being with Professor Baldwin was everything I’d ever dreamed about.

I looked behind me, partly expecting him to be in the bed with me, and felt relief but also a flash of regret when the opposite side was vacant.

I reached out and stroked my palm over the pillow, the linens frigid to my touch, almost sharp and severe under my fingertips.

It was evident he hadn’t slept near me all night.

The daylight coming through the drapes, although subdued, had my headache hammering stronger behind my eyes. I heard the sound of my phone vibrating and sat up to see it resting on the dresser across from the bed.

I lifted it up and stared down at it. There were three texts from Alexis, as well as two missed calls.

“Shit,” I mumbled. I was very sure I’d forgotten to contact her last night once I’d gone to Professor Baldwin’s place.

I’m terribly sorry. I neglected to contact you last night and ended up crashing.

Alexis: You worried the heck out of me, Gracie!

After Professor Baldwin had gotten me into bed, everything else had gone dark. I’d fallen asleep soon away, and now hated having Alexis worry.

I’ll contact you as soon as I don’t feel like my head’s going to burst.

Alexis: You better.

The last thing I needed to do was phone her while in his place and have her overhear him say something.

God, was I really at my professor’s house?

I laid my phone down and brushed my fingers over my face. I wanted to shower, to remove the club vibe off my body, and I needed to drink almost a gallon of water to flush the last of this lingering booze out.

Then I heard footsteps. I turned toward the door fast, feeling my eyes widen and my heart accelerate. I raced toward the bed and ripped off the cover, wrapping it around my lower half. And then I just stood there, time seeming to go by terribly slowly as I waited for him to come in.

He knocked on the door but didn’t open it.

I swallowed roughly and looked around, not entirely sure what I was seeking for.

“Grace?” His voice was deep and clear, coming through the door and having my body reacting instantly.

I trembled and cleared my throat, telling myself to grow up and get myself under control.

“Come in.” My voice sounded high-pitched, and I cleared my throat again.

He pulled the door open, and I swore time stood still.

Of course, he was put together and looking beautiful as heck. He donned a pair of dark slacks and a white button-down dress shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants. His dark belt was wrapped around his waist, emphasizing how thin he was yet muscular at the same time.

His shirt was formfitting enough that I could see the shape of his biceps, even the definition of his pectoral muscles.

God, he looked fantastic, and I probably looked like I’d crawled out of a grave.

For a second, we just stood there, neither one of us saying anything, the uneasiness thick within me. I had to give him credit; he didn’t look at me like I was mad wrapped up in a blanket.

I tightened my grip on the blanket, pulling the material over me even more. “I woke up with no pants on,” I blurted out. It wasn’t an allegation, rather out of curiosity on what the hell had happened.

He lifted a dark brow, and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “You were fully clothed when I put you to bed.”

I felt my cheeks flame after he said. I peered around the room again, my attention dropping to the floor. And then I finally saw my pants strewn in the corner in a mound of cloth.

“Do you always shed certain pieces of clothing when you’ve been drinking?” There was amusement in his voice.

My face was on fire, and I glanced at him but quickly looked at the floor, mortified. “Apparently.”

He didn’t say anything for lengthy moments, and when I looked back at him, his countenance was somber once more. “Well, if you get dressed and come into the kitchen, I’ll make you some breakfast.”

The entire concept of eating turned my stomach, but he looked like he was unwilling to budge on this.

I nodded once, feeling his attention on me even though I wasn’t looking at him. After a minute I heard him leave, shutting the door behind him. I breathed slowly.

I wasn’t sure what in the hell I’d gotten myself into, but this was quite probably the worst scenario I’d ever been in, not to mention exceedingly improper.

He was my lecturer.

I was his student.

Then again, I was also in love with him.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed, had found the bathroom and washed my face, rinsed out my mouth, and attempted to finger comb my hair into a semblance of order.

I made my way into the kitchen, the sound of plates banging together sounded unreasonably loud for my groggy state.

I rounded the corner and paused when I saw him standing by the stove. He had his shirtsleeves pushed up, his toned, tanned forearms on display. I clamped my thighs together as desire pooled between them.

Rubbing my hands down my legs, I felt so nervous, so weird, and completely out of place.

As if he sensed me, he looked over his shoulder and smiled.

“Have a seat, Grace.”

The way he uttered my name, all deep and husky-like, shouldn’t have had me instantly excited.

I dragged the chair out, the feet scraping along the floor, causing me to cringe at how awkwardly loud it was. I sat and gazed at the spread.

The table was set for two, with a bowl of fresh fruit in the center, a carafe of orange juice beside it, an empty coffee mug in front of me, a full one at the other place setting, and a dazzling silver fork put on a clean white linen napkin to my left.

This all seemed so… homey.

“Professor Baldwin, I want to apologize. This is incredibly embarrassing for me.”

“Call me Seth.” He turned from the stove and strolled up to me, carrying a frying pan in one hand and a wooden spatula in the other. He scooped out the omelet and laid it on the dish in front of me. I watched as he moved back to the stove and created another one.

For several minutes I just sat there, not sure how to act.

I swallowed, my throat so dry, my stomach twisting. I actually wasn’t hungry. However, when I looked up at him, going to remark so, the expression he gave me had me keeping that idea to myself.

He looked severe, as if he challenged me to tell him I wasn’t eating.

Once he had his omelet plated and the pan back on the heat, he grabbed a glass from the cupboard. He filled it with water, came back to the table, and set the glass in front of me.

My throat felt so dry.

I offered him an appreciative smile before reaching out and taking it, downing half of it before coming up for breath.

He didn’t say anything as he reclined back in the chair and reached for his coffee mug. I could see steam rising over it, and I stared at him as he took a long sip while he watched me.

He laid the mug down but stayed silent for a second. “You should eat something. You’ll feel better.”

I looked down at the plate. “Everything looks delicious, but my hangover is making my appetite next to none.” He stood after a second and went over the cupboard, reaching in for a bottle of what I thought was aspirin.

He came back over and opened it, poured out a couple of tablets onto his palm, and passing them over to me.

“Thank you,” I whispered softly and took the pills, popping them in my mouth and rinsing them down with the rest of the water.

When he sat back down across from me, his gaze was centered on me, his stare making me feel vulnerable in all the right ways.

“Just try and eat something.” He picked up his fork and started eating his omelet. The clank of the silverware on the plates encouraged me to take up mine and start eating as well.

Although I really wasn’t hungry, I knew that putting food in my stomach might go a long way in helping me.

He poured me a glass of orange juice, and we sat and finished our breakfast in silence. It was odd. I felt a bit uncomfortable considering the fact he was my professor, but I reasoned he’d seen me at my worst, so from this point on it could only get better, right?

When I was finished eating as much as I could, I pushed my plate away slightly, went for my glass of orange juice and finished it off. I felt him watching at me and peeked up from behind my lashes.

God, it should be illegal for a man to look that wonderful, especially this early in the morning. He leaned back in the chair, one arm braced across it, the other resting on the table. He had his fingers curled around his coffee mug, the digits going up and down slowly over the ceramic.

It shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was.

“You didn’t ask me many questions last night,” he finally remarked, his voice this baritone timbre that had me clamping my thighs together.

I’d never been this close to him before, the situation so personal that it nearly felt as if we were a… couple. I’d slept in his bed, and he’d served me breakfast. It all seemed very personal.

I nodded once although I didn’t know what I was consenting to. I did remember last night, but it was a little bit hazy.

“I probably shouldn’t be admitting this, but I got drunk off one drink.” I felt my cheeks flush and chanced a full look up at him. “Although in my defense it was a pretty strong drink, maybe even a couple in one.”

God, this was mortifying.

I cleared my throat and looked around, knowing that what I needed to do was get out of here.

I needed to go home, finish sleeping off this hangover, and then maybe move to another town, register in a different school.

I could’ve snorted at my thoughts. I have to face this head-on.

I couldn’t flee from my troubles or disgrace.

I thought about all the things I should’ve asked him last night, things that had come to me, but I hadn’t bothered about getting the answers at the time.

Even though right now I still didn’t care because the hammering behind my head was taking priority, this might be the only chance I actually got to question them.

“Why were you at the club?”

He placed his cup to his mouth and took another long sip before placing it down and exhaled softly. “I was there because of you.”

I felt my heart practically stop in my chest. I grasped the edge of my chair, my nails pressing against the wood. I heard him well, but I wasn’t sure whether I grasped what he actually meant.

“You were there because of me?” I licked my lips and took a deep breath in. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer for several seconds, but the way he studied me was almost fierce, as if he were examining my reaction to his words.

“It means exactly what it means.” He leaned forward and put his hands together on top of the table, his forearms parallel with each other.

He stared me directly in the eyes. “I overheard you talking about going there, about what time you’d be there, when I was at the coffee shop.

So, I followed you, Grace. I can only guess what happens at clubs, and I was correct.

I was there because of you, because I wanted to protect you. ”

I shook my head gently but didn’t know why I was doing that.

This was genuinely happening?

Professor Baldwin, Seth, had stalked me?

That should’ve horrified me, yet I found myself warming. The sheer concept that he’d gone to those efforts to be close to me, to think he was protecting me, had excitement surging through my veins in an almost perverted manner.

“I don’t think that’s normal,” I mumbled, but the words were foreign to me.

“It’s very normal when it comes to my need for you, my desire, Grace.” I felt my eyes widen and leaned back a little bit, the chair creaking from my shift. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to react. This had been what I’d fantasized of but never thought I’d have as my reality.

I was in love with Professor Baldwin, yet could I ever honestly admit that?

I didn’t know how to handle his words, his admission.

“And when you were at the coffee shop and overheard me and Alexis… were you there by chance?”

He stared at me for a second before ultimately shaking his head. I felt my heart race.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time, Grace, since the very first moment I saw you step into my class with that clear lip gloss on your red lips, wearing that little sundress, and your hair piled in a messy bun.” The way he spoke was as if he envisioned that very day right now.

“I remember there was perspiration on your temple, and how much I wanted to run my fingers along those beads.”

I felt like I was sweating now, from what he said, how he watched me.

Was this actually happening?

“Yes, Grace. It’s actually happening.”

I hadn’t realized I’d said those words out loud.

He reached out, and I was frozen in place as he moved a strand of hair away from my shoulder, his fingertips lingering on my cheek. “And now that I’ve admitted how I feel, now that you know the truth … I’m not about to let you go.”