Stalked by my Professor Novel

Chapter 70 My mind is fucked right now, and it's got nothing to do with my hangover. It was finding Haven in my fucking bed when I woke up this morning. I have no clue what time she got here because I don't remember waking up when she climbed in. Which means I was still passed out drunk when it happened. Thank fuck it wasn't earlier in the evening. I have a hazy memory of getting super emotional. I might even have cried a little. I'd fucking die if she ever saw that. Now I'm pushing back all that worry, fighting a hangover, and trying not to come in my boxers.

I woke up with a hard on the size of the Washington monument, and fuck me if I wasn't five seconds away from flipping Haven over and railing her as soon as I realized I was awake and this wasn't the start of a wet dream. Instead, I went to the bathroom, tried not to hit myself in the eye when I peed, and gargled some of Jace's mouthwash because I'd left my caddy back in the room like an idiot. Now Haven's talking about living at the beach in a van, and I'm seriously convinced this is just a wet dream and I'll be waking up with stained boxers.

I drag the sheets down her body until they're draped over her calves, and trail my fingers up her legs. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn FindN()vel.net Fuck, she looks hot in my football jersey. Who am I kidding? She always looks hot. That first day she arrived at AHC in those stained jeans and flip-flops, hair a mess, I nearly sprained my dick the moment I saw her. I slip a finger behind the hem of her underwear, groaning when I feel how wet she is. "Fuck, Haven," I murmur against her ear as I roll on top of her.

"I've barely even touched you and you're fucking soaked." I duck my head, our mouths an inch apart as I take in the way the morning light catches in her hair, turning the odd strand into shimmering bronze. She bucks under me, grinding against my dick hard enough to make me groan again. "What you gonna do about it?" I don't get to show her, because that's when someone knocks on my door, and immediately enters without waiting for me to answer first. "Get a fucking lock, Kai," Haven mutters as she shoves me off her and pulls the sheets to her chin.

"Never needed one before, Haven," I mutter as Jace steps into the room. "Good morning." His eyes stutter in Haven's direction. "Contravening our 'no female guests' rule again, I see." "This stray?" I stab a thumb over my shoulder. "She just wandered right in. Someone must have left open a door or something. I'm taking her to the pound first thing. Just need to get a cup of coffee in me first." Unsurprisingly, Haven punches me in the kidney hard enough to make me wince. "No need.

You and your stray have until noon to clear out." He turns and meticulously tapes a sheet of paper onto the back of my door. "This is your letter of disassociation." Haven grabs my shoulder, but I buck her off and shoot to my feet. "You can't do that." "I can." Jace's face is as impassive as his voice. "And I have." "You need a unanimous vote!" "Which I obtained half an hour ago. In the meeting you were told to attend. Pity. You might have been able to swing a few votes your way." "Bullshit!" I surge forward, but Haven hobbles in front of me a second later, hand flattened against my chest.

Jace only gives her a cursory once-over. If he'd lingered a millisecond longer on any part of her body, he'd be dead right now. He raps his knuckles against the paper. "It's all here. Signatures available upon request. Have a lawyer look it over, if you want." "You fucking know I will." I'm pushing into Haven's hand, but she just pushes me right back. When I glance down at her, she's staring up at me with wide 'chill, dude' eyes. Jace pauses en-route to the hallway, turning with the edge of the door clasped in his hand.

"Not Emerson, though." How the fuck does Jace know Emerson is the Jordan family lawyer? "If you think⁠-" "I'm not being difficult," Jace says calmly, which just makes my own strained, barely coherent voice seem even more bullish. "It's merely a conflict of interest." "How can⁠-" "Emerson drafted the letter in advance of the meeting, in case the vote was affirmative." Jace smiles grimly. "Upon Ezra's request, of course." Haven limps around to face Jace, her hand falling away from my chest. "That's bullshit.

He wouldn't do that to his own brother." An invisible force is squeezing around my chest, making breathing, talking, thinking almost impossible. So thank God she said it, because right now I don't think I can speak. Jace doesn't look at her, directing his words to me. "Emerson and I met with him yesterday afternoon. He's finally lucid enough to speak after you nearly put him in a coma, by the way." A lifeless smile pulls at his mouth. "I'm sure you're thrilled." "Yesterday?" I croak.

"When yesterday?" Jace flicks his gaze over my room, then back at the paper, silent as he smooths down the edge of the tape. "You've got till noon, Kai. Whatever's still inside this room by then is going onto the sidewalk." "Can Ezra really do that?" Haven asks, turning to me as soon as Jace pulls the door closed behind him. I'm glaring at Jace so hard, it feels like my eyeballs are going to explode. But then it's like someone flips a switch, and all the anger and frustration and fear snuff out. "Doesn't matter. No one wants me here anyway.

Jace got the votes." "He could be lying." I turn away, gripping my chin. "I don't give a fuck anymore." "You should! It's obvious Ezra is just doing this to fuck with⁠-" "Jesus, Haven, don't you think I fucking know that!?" Haven staggers back when I turn on her, her hands in fists at her chest. I lower my voice from a bellow, hand raking through my hair as I force myself to look away so I'm scowling at all the shit in my room instead of at her. "Think I wanted to be in a frat with my fucking brother?" I mutter, grabbing my gym bag and upending it on the bed so I can toss shit in there.

"He said it was the only way to get the internship." "What internship?" "Doesn't matter." I don't look at her. I can't. Because it feels as if I'm going to have another breakdown, and I'd rather slit my fucking wrists than have her see me like that. I toss a stack of clothes into my duffel. My stash box with my weed. Upend my bathroom caddy and give everything a good shake so it settles. "None of this fucking bullshit matters." I step into the jeans I left lying on the floor.

Snatch some designer t-shirt and hoodie from the back of my chair and pull them over my head, wincing as the movement tugs at the bite mark on my shoulder. For a second, it's like Rooke still has his teeth clamped in my flesh. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to wipe the image of him licking his bloodstained teeth, that manic grin still on his smug fucking face. Jesus, I don't need him in my head right now. Haven tries to grab my arm when I head for the bookshelf, but I shake her off. "College matters," she says, but it's like she's reading off a script.

"Never said I'm quitting college." I grab my most important textbooks and notes, tossing them into the duffel too. I barely look at the trophies. None of them will get me out of Agony Hollow. Something catches my eye and, as if on cue, a cloud passes over the sun and throws my room into gloom. I stare at it so hard at the envelope on my bookshelf that I get an afterimage when I finally blink to side-eye Haven. She has her arms crossed over her chest as she stares at me with wide blue eyes.

There's a small, worried crease between her brows, and her bottom lip twitches like she's biting the inside. She's leaning her weight on her uninjured foot, the other tilted to the side so it's not in contact with the floor. Looks like we were both in the same car wreck. "You need clothes?" I say, pointing to my closet. She glances down at herself as if she's wondering what's wrong with her outfit. Thankfully, she decides to change. It's impossible not to stare as she strips down to her undies to dress into denim overalls and a too-tight tank top that does impressive things for her tits.

"Don't run," she says. "You can fight this." My eyes go back to the envelope. I realized early in life that fighting wouldn't get me anywhere. Fleeing wasn't an option either. So I chose compliance. Submission. That's what Ezra expects. Bet he's probably been planning this for months, if not years. My first clue should have been that fucking internship. I always thought it was too good to be true. But he swore high and low that joining the frat, becoming his official underling, would get me exactly what I wanted. A way out of Agony Hollow.

I was wary at first, looking for signs that he was stringing me along. But freshman year, after I sent that reply to Haven's letter and she stopped writing me, Ezra changed. He became less abrasive. More supportive. He made as if he genuinely had my best interests at heart. All it took was a stupid July Fourth cookout the next year to convince me. Just us, no girls, no frat, no fucking drama. We grilled some burgers, got drunk, even tossed a ball. It felt so real. So fucking normal. Everything that our lives hadn't been up to that point.

I spent the entire afternoon wondering why the hell we hadn't been closer over the years. My rationalization was that it was only possible now that we were finally out of the house. Away from Dad's abuse. Not having to suffer through Mom's depressive episodes and blatant neglect. As if our toxic relationship was a direct result of our environment. I was so wrong. So fucking wrong. He probably spent the day figuring out how to fuck me over. Ezra's always been playing the long game. Getting my hopes up, only to tear them down. I'm guessing Haven's arrival fucked with his plans.

If not for her, he's have kept me on the line until graduation. I'm done letting Ezra pull my strings. I pick up the envelope, tilting it to the side so the necklace inside slides along the crease. Back and forth, like I have so many times over the years. "I'm not quitting," I murmur to myself as I slide the envelope into my hoodie's pouch. When I look up, she's staring at my pouch with a zoned-out look on her face. Probably wondering what's inside the envelope. Unless she opened it when she was snooping. Doubtful. She'd have strangled me with the chain if she had.

"Not quitting," I repeat, shaking my head. "Okay." She pulls her messy brown hair away from her face and ties it up with a hair band from her wrist. We both glance over at the window as a breeze rifles the curtains. "So...regrouping then?" she asks as I go over to shut the window. Puffy gray clouds are gathering in the sky, but the rain will hold for an hour or two at least. Should be enough time. I slip the duffel bag's strap over my shoulder, grab my laptop bag and puffer vest, and head for the door. "We're gonna go have something to eat, then we're going on vacation.

You good with Pie Palace, or you wanna go someplace else?" "Vacation?" A curious frown appears between Haven's brows as she tilts her head. I expect her to talk me out of it, so it's no surprise that she says, "You really think I can afford to just up and leave in the middle of the semester?" "It's just for a few days." I grab her shoulder, turning and steering her out of the room. "There'll be plenty of time to study before midterms." When she stops walking, I'm ready with an exasperated sigh, expecting to convince her one way or the other.

Which is fucked, because I don't need her at my side. Except...maybe I do. Because the thought of leaving without her makes me want to jump off the fucking roof and aim to miss the pool. But instead of whining about school or her responsibilities, she just turns to look at me with a curious look on her face. I've seen it before. Back in the day, I'd come up with a lot of the games we played...but so did Haven. Strangely, she'd later turn it around, telling me I was the one who'd thought them out. Hide and Hunt was mine. Columbus and Jane. Variants of those when I was feeling creative.

But The Bandit and The Queen? That was all Haven. The Quiet Game? I should have come up with that one, but Miss H was the brains behind the operation. I just tweaked the rules so there weren't any loopholes. This look? It's the one she wore whenever she was thinking out a new game. "What's going on in that head of yours, Miss H?" She licks her lips, then bites down on the bottom one. "What if it's not?" "Not what?" "What if it's not just for a few days?" she asks carefully. I clear my throat, not sure I'm understanding her right.

"How long do you want to stay gone?" She blinks, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks at my mouth, then my eyes. "Forever, Kai." Her blue eyes darken, and I can't quite tell if she's sad or happy or hopeful. "Let's stay gone forever."