Chapter 15 Avalynne #2
"Sleep on the settee tonight," he tells me. "I'll be fine here."
"I can't possibly …"
"Immorier," he growls, and my gaze leaves the fire to find him already glaring at me. "No arguing tonight, please."
"Ok," I acquiesce.
Per his instructions, I settle onto the settee, the cushions soft and welcoming as I turn away from the fire.
"Thank you," I tell the fabric.
"You're welcome, Clarissima Stella," he murmurs behind me, and the hairs along my spine prickle with his velvety words.
Has he always sounded this good? Of course, he has.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" I ask the cushion, but if he hears my question, he doesn't answer.
The crackle of the fire and the rhythm of his breathing lull me to sleep, and I wake the next morning to the smell of coffee.
I roll over and find Professor at his desk.
He's opened the shutters he closed last night, and the soft light of dawn now bathes the room as the fire glows in embers, casting a gentle warmth.
I blink down at my outfit. "I need to change," I remark. "Reverend Mother will kill me if she sees me in this."
"Don't worry." He flips through last Sunday's newspaper, and I wonder who he had to pay to get that delivered from the mainland. "The nuns are too busy cleaning up the second coming of Noah's flood to care about your attire today, Immorier."
He pushes a steaming mug across his desk and raises an eyebrow at me.
"Coffee?" he offers.
I stand, stretching my hands behind my back before I walk over to his desk and sit in the chair across from him.
For a moment, I just enjoy the rich, earthy aroma of the coffee, letting my eyes close before I take a sip and sigh.
The taste is rich and bold, with a hint of sweetness from sugar and cream.
"I've missed this," I nearly moan, letting the mug warm my hands. "Thank you."
"I guess we're breaking all the convent's rules today," Professor says, his words dry, and I can't tell if he's being serious or sarcastic. A breath later, he slides a muffin on a plate across the desk to me, and we eat, sharing a quiet breakfast together.
"Do you have any extra sugar?" I ask, eyeing his desk.
"Not sweet enough for you?" he remarks, not looking up from his newspaper.
"I'm afraid most of the cream and sugar drowned last night.
Your books will have to wait until the water is pumped as well.
" He flips a page. "I understand one of the retaining walls ruptured.
The water on the first floor isn't high enough to reach your books, but I'd rather not wade through it again.
It was difficult enough to find the coffee. "
He eyes me over his newspaper and doesn't blink.
It's unnerving, and I resist the urge to check myself for crumbs, before he sighs through his nose, riffles through a desk drawer, and slides a tablet over to me.
"Do something instructional," he tells me, "but don't kill the battery. My charger drowned last night."
"Thank you," I murmur into my mug.
This is weird, I think. Good but weird, and he's being nice to me, which feels like a win.
I look at the news stations first and then check the weather. When I've had my fill of current events, I search for his reading app, but I can't find it.
"Do you have any books on here?" I ask him. "I can't find Kindle or Kobo."
"Kindle?" He stills, his gaze slicing across the top of his newspaper and locking on me. "I don't need technology to read a book, Immorier."
To my surprise, I realize I'm getting used to his smoldering stares, and I continue swiping through his folders. I find the tablet oddly empty like he uses it for the bare minimum and nothing more.
"Why?" I swipe to another folder, finding finance apps I'm pretty sure he's never even opened. "It's so convenient to have all your books in one place. I love my Kindle back home."
Feeling his continued glare, I peek up from the tablet just in time to catch the moment Professor's eyes nearly bug out of his head. His tongue flicks across the corner of his mouth before he seethes, "You're willing to trade the experience of holding a real book for a lifeless screen?"
Whoa, okay, offended by technology, then?
I nearly roll my eyes at him, but then I remember Professor Thatcher gave me coffee, and he can take it away. Still, I'm not about to back down. He's behaving like a fossilized curmudgeon.
"It's not about a lifeless screen," I tell him. "Having ebooks is about access. I can have an entire library with me wherever I go. They're practical, Professor."
"Practical?!" He discards the newspaper on his desk and sits straighter in his leather chair.
"Books are more than just words on a page, Avalynne.
They're tangible history. They are the feel of paper beneath your fingers, the scent of curing ink, the anticipation of what's on the next page, and that's something no tablet could ever replicate. "
I can't help myself. I laugh, even though I spot the sharp edges of irritation cutting across his face.
"You sound like an old man clinging to the past," I chortle.
Professor leans across the desk, steepling his fingers together in front of me, and my laughter withers and dies on my lips. His next words, growled and low, skitter across my flesh like living beings.
"Some things are better left to old men, Avalynne."
Oh my God. Why was that so mind-meltingly hot?
I steel my features, giving nothing away, just like my grandfather taught me.
"You're just afraid the new ways will make dinosaurs like yourself obsolete," I challenge.
He smirks, and the sight of him, a flash of white teeth and straight hair the color of ravens brushing his shoulders, it's too much. My thoughts tailspin inside a tornado, and I don't remember what we were arguing about.
Air. I need air right now.
"Dinosaurs dominated everything they wanted," he remarks, his gaze dipping to my lips.
"Until they went extinct."
Our breaths mingle, the space between us charged with a thing I feel but don't see. It lives in the electric heat of his presence, and the molten need pooling at the space between my legs.
Can he feel it, too?
"You know, your opinions are surprisingly recalcitrant for someone wearing a ridiculous habit," Professor says, his gaze lifting to my strawberry-blonde locks.
"Says the man afraid of change," I remark, hoping the words sound effortlessly easy, rather than what they are—barely breathed.
Defying all logic, he leans in even farther across the desk until his hot breath fans my already flushed face. His gaze locks on mine.
"Or maybe," he drawls, "I simply know when certain lines shouldn't be crossed, little troublemaker."
Everything seems to pause—my heart, my lungs, my existence.
Is he going to kiss me?
Does he want to kiss me?
Do I want him to?
My heart smacks beneath my sternum as the air between us stretches taut.
"Xade," a voice calls as the door opens behind us.
I turn and find Father Ezra looking at my professor and then to me. His stare lingers on Professor Thatcher's clothes I'm wearing, and he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing against his white priest's collar.
"Xade, may I speak with you alone, please?" he asks. "Avalynne, Sister EllaMae is waiting for you on the first floor to show you to your new accommodations. It will take time to pump the water from the basement and repair the retaining wall."
"Thank you." My face burns with whatever almost happened.
I want to ask Father Ezra where he's been and why it feels like he's been ignoring me, but first, I need space between Professor Thatcher and me.
As I push away from his desk and make my way to the first floor, one thought suffuses my very being.
My professor didn't even touch me, and I was on fire.
So what will happen if he kisses me?
I think I'll simply combust into flames.