Sinful Touch : A Dark Professor Romance

3. Jaxon

Izip up my jacket and grab my helmet, closing the door behind me as I take two steps at a time. The rain is starting to come down, and the darkness of night has already taken over the city. I have always loved the rain and the blackness of night. It is easier to hide and stay in the shadows.

I have been watching Lil for the past few days after our little run-in at the beginning of my class on the first day. I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind; her soft voice has been on repeat. We didn’t say much to one another, but it was enough for me. Enough to want to know her more. Enough to go against the norm and take things into my own hands.

It would probably be easier to just talk to the girl, but what is the fun in that?

A rush comes with watching someone when they don’t know. You learn all kinds of things about them. I have watched her enough to know she is going to the coffee shop. One good thing about this city is that there are coffee shops open 24-7. Lil has found one that she likes in the older part of town. Most people like the newer side of town, but I have a feeling she isn”t like most people at all.

She tries to blend in, and most people don’t even give her a second glance. From how she acts, she is used to being under the radar. I envy her for that. There isn’t a place I can go normally where people don’t know who I am, but the coffee shop has become her safety net, a place she goes to and spends hours writing.

I want to know what she writes about. I know she is working on her papers for my class, but I have watched her enough to know she already has them done, which means what she has been working on is not for me, which makes me jealous, jealous because I want to know what is inside her mind, the part of her mind she refuses to let anyone else see.

I make my way over to my bike and pull the helmet over my head; I swing my leg over and get in the right position. I turn it on and take off down the road.

It will take me about 45 minutes to get to the coffee shop from my house, so she will be on her third cup of coffee by the time I get there. She will be curled up on the couch facing the fireplace, wearing her head buds, making sure to drown out the rest of the world.

I have spent hours watching her from a distance; she seems nervous when she sees me. I made that mistake the first time I saw her go to the coffee shop. I have learned my lesson of it being better if I watch her from a distance; I get to see her for her, and what a beautiful fucking sight it is.

I stop as the light turns from yellow to red; I take a deep breath as the music blares through my headphones.

Liliana has no idea who I am, but for the first time in my life, I want her to know. I want to show her my world, not the world that I have gotten because of my status as a writer.

When people look at me, that is all they see. While most women want to be with me because of what I write, I can say that none of them can handle the desires I have deep down inside me.

No one wants to know the real Jaxon Fox; they want the man they have made up inside their minds.

But Liliana, when she looked at me, it wasn’t with awe because of me being a writer; no, there was something else in her eyes, something that has drawn me in like a moth to a flame, and I want to get fucking burned by her.

I pull up and park on the other side of the street; the little coffee shop is right down the street. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing me, and I want to be able to watch her, watch her as she feels free to be who she is when no one else she knows is around.

I slowly get off my bike and remove my helmet; placing it on the seat, I run across the street and make my way down the sidewalk.

This part of the city is not as busy as the new side, which is lucky for me because it makes this whole thing a lot easier.

I continue to make my way down the sidewalk, stopping at the door of the coffee shop. I take a deep breath and open the door, walking inside and immediately making my way to the corner that gives me the perfect view of where she sits.

I unzip my jacket and remove it putting it on the back of the chair as I take a seat and lean back.

Liliana is in her normal spot: curled up on the couch with a book and notebook in her lap. I smile when I see that it is yet another one of my books.

I have lost count of how many books I have published; once the first one came out, I just went on a roll, and more and more ideas came out, so more books came out.

I continue to keep my eyes on her as the girl walks up to me and places a coffee in front of me. I nod to her, but she is not the one that has my attention.

Liliana is not like any girl I have ever met. Most girls who see me go crazy can”t speak and act stupid to try and get my attention, but not Lil.

She is nervous, but I can tell she is like that with everyone.

No, she is different.

Like right now, she is curled up on the couch reading my book but then takes small breaks to write in her notebook; I will fucking see what she is writing in there. Other girls her age are out drinking, getting lost in some guy, but not Lil, she is alone working on something I can tell she loves.

She doesn’t seem like the type to go out to parties and get lost in booze and men. No, she seems like the type of girl who would rather stay at home reading a good book, watching a movie, or getting lost in her writing.

I tilt my head to the side, watching her closely. She grabs the bridge of her nose with two fingers and shakes her head. I have noticed she grabs the bridge of her nose whenever she can’t get the words out that she wants to write; it is adorable, actually.

She lowers her hand and begins writing again. The coffee shop is filled with other students and random people who live the nightlife.

She is not paying them any mind, nor are they not paying her any mind. She is in her own world right now, a world I am dying to join.

She reaches over and grabs her coffee cup. She stops and looks down.

A smile forms across my face as she slowly gets up from the couch, setting down her book and notebooks. This girl drinks coffee like it is water, but I get it.

We writers stay up late and will continue to do so until the book is done; being a writer is an obsession. Or at least it is for me, and I can tell it is for her, too. I have spent many years writing down my desire and what I truly want and sharing it with the world. The funny thing is that I haven’t found the right woman to submit to and give me what I want. The girls I write about are not ones from my real life, fuck no. They are the women I have made up inside my head, the women who would finally give me what I want.

Most don’t understand what we writers go through. Sometimes, we don”t see the end results for our work of art, and other times, we get lucky and get noticed.

It took me 5 years before someone would give me a chance, so I published my own stuff at the beginning. Being indie was nice. I had the freedom to write what I wanted, and I didn’t have to ask for permission. Now you can say I am on a leash. The world—or I should say my fans—wants a certain kind of book from me. If I tried to write something else, my fans, my agent, and my publisher would freak out.

Liliana circles around the couch, making her way over to the counter.

I quickly get up from my seat and go over to the couch. I look down at the still-open notebook.

At the top of the page, I see my name, and underneath, holy fucking shit.

I turn and look over at Lil. She is standing at the counter, waiting for her new-filled coffee cup. I look back down at the notebook, taking a deep breath.

I guess I am not the only one with secrets; I am not the only one with hidden desires. This girl is going to fucking destroy me.