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Ludwig Van Beethoven...

Where is that book?

I walked down the aisles over and over again and sighed. The librarian said she couldn't find it but his letters were referred to in another book which I also cannot find.

This library was two floors as it was and checking both poetry sections would take me more than the hour I had. These aisles were so deep it would take me forever to find Beethoven's letters.

I grabbed a book on John Keats and went to the small desk near the balcony overlooking the ground floor where my friend Rachel was sitting. She had fifteen minutes before her class and she didn't mind spending it with me researching for our latest assignment.

I loved romantic poetry. Some seemed deep, some very deep and others either soppy or emotional.

"Didn't find it?" She asked as she turned the page of her book.

I shook my head. "John Keats will do. But I love Beethoven letters."

She grinned and ran a hand through her dark hair. "I've got Lord Byron. Don't you just love poetry?" Her words dripping with sarcasm.

I smiled. "Most,"

"Of course you do. You got 68 out of 72 in that quiz Miss Clarke gave us." She sighed.

"That's because I enjoy poetry, Rachel. It's one of those things that come easy for me. Shakespeare is my favorite."

She patted my hand and said, "Evie... I think you need help."

I chuckled and she stood up. "I hate to get poetry books and run but..." She smirked at me. "See you next week."

"Wait." I skim read a poem and stood up. "Would this be appropriate for the assignment? It's called, 'Modern Love'."

She waited for me and I cleared my throat.

"And what is love? It is a doll dress'd up
For idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle;
A thing of soft misnomers, so divine
That silly youth doth think to make itself

Divine by loving, and so goes on
Yawning and doting a whole summer long,
Till Miss's comb is made a perfect tiara,
And common Wellingtons turn Romeo boots;
Then Cleopatra lives at number seven,
And Antony resides in Brunswick Square.
Fools! If some passions high have warm'd the world,
If Queens and Soldiers have play'd deep for hearts,
It is no reason why such agonies
Should be more common than the growth of weeds.
Fools! Make me whole again that weighty pearl
The Queen of Egypt melted, and I'll say
That ye may love in spite of beaver hats." I finished.

"What's the meaning of it?" Rachel asked generally interested.

"I think he's trying to say that love is an illusion which is obtained from daydreaming, a desire to bask in the divinity of love, and imitation of great passions and lovers of history. He's sort of making fun. The tone is in a way humorous. He's describing that youths believe that famous lovers of history are just around the corner. That youth's think love back in that time still exists now."

"I like it." She said. A bell rang shortly through the library. "Use it. It'll get you your A. I really gotta go. I'll see you next week but message me how you start. It's due in a few weeks so we've got time." She ran through a few aisles and I watched her run down the stairs and out the door.

My eyes darted back to the stairs as a man I still wasn't ready to confront started walking up them.

I whipped my head back to the book and noted the page down on my MacBook.

So, yesterdays class wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Only because I'd walked in hidden by the girls and Damien. While sitting through his lecture, his hockey jersey was burning a hole in my bag. I was figuring out ways to give it to him. And by the end of class, I was the last one left in there. His eyes were watching me with every move I took. I'd walked down the steps making sure not to look directly at him, went into my bag and pulled out the Canucks bag.

When I placed it on his desk, I accidentally caught his eye.

I'd taken a deep breath, turned my trembling body and walked out of the room without a word.
All weekend I'd been thinking about him. Every night since Friday I'd been fantasizing about what else could have happened against that damned wall in the Canucks arena. What it'd been like to kiss him deeper. To taste him...

I turned my head back to the stairs and mentally cursed. I don't know where he is. I should have seen where he went. I needed to carry on going through the aisles to find Beethoven's letters.
Wait, he didn't need to be on this side anyway. I shut my MacBook, picked up John Keats and stood up to look again. 

I was getting frustrated. I needed that damn book. I'd use 'Modern Love' if I needed to.

I'd gone through four long ass aisles and still nothing. I bent down to look at the bottom row and gasped. "Finally."

Greatest Romantic Poems/Sonnets: Ludwig Van Beethoven, Shakespeare, Lord Byron.

I grabbed the book, stood up and turned around only to come face to face with Michael.

I stepped back and I hit the bookcase. Some of the books fell to the ground and I scowled. These aisles were wide enough, why did he have to be so close? And why didn't I hear him get here?

Surprisingly, he smiled sweetly at me.

Have I missed something?

I went to my knees and picked up some of the books. He bent down as well and picked up the remaining books.

As I slid them in the right places he did the same. I could feel his breath at the back of my neck and I held back the shiver. My hair was up today which made me notice it even more. I turned around and he thankfully took a step back giving me some room to breathe... And concentrate.

I took in his beige cardigan, white shirt and loose tie. He looked good enough to...

My eyes shifted to his face and I watched him stare at me with an intensity that deserved a freaking medal. I stepped from foot to foot and looked down at my ripped skinny jeans and my V-neck dark blue sweater. My sleeves were rolled up but other than that I can't see anything wrong. With the way he was staring at me I would believe that I was standing here naked.

I waited for him to say something.

When he didn't, I crossed my arms over my chest. "Can I help you?"

He raised one of his dark brows. "I was looking around."

I tilted my head. "Seriously."

He nodded and smiled. Oh no, it was that unguarded smile. That one he showed me at the diner. Although I'd seen it only once up close, I loved the smile.

He glanced down at the books in my hand. "Beethoven?"

I nodded and tightened my grip on both of the books. "Yes."

He took a deep breath and looked around. The aisle we were currently in was right to the back in one of the corners. These sections were rarely used and as he looked around, I wondered if he thought we'd get caught. But we weren't doing anything. So what was he planning?

His face went soft and his body relaxed against the bookcase. "Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us..."

He spoke the poem and I watched his lips move, his eyebrows furrow with every break. I could feel myself speaking parts under my breath and gave him an impressed smile when he finished. 

"Letters to His Immortal Beloved is one of my favourites."

His green eyes sparkled and he grinned. "Not a lot of people your age know that off by heart."

I smirked. "My age, huh?"

He ran a hand through his hair and I mentally scowled at the inappropriate thoughts I was having about running my hands through his hair over and over again and pulling his head down until--

"I don't know a lot of people your age that know such a comprehensive piece of writing."

"I'm not like a lot of people my age." I said with a smile.

I caught his eyes dart down to my lips. I wasn't even sure he did it or maybe I was imagining things.

"No, you're not." He agreed in a mumble.

We watched each other for a moment. Waiting for one of us to turn away it seems. There were times when Michael was lovely like now for example and when he was an absolute ass like that time I dropped him home before the crash. I couldn't figure him out.

I suddenly found myself saying, "What are we doing?"

His lip twitched and his face looked triumphant for some odd reason. Like he was waiting for me to ask that question. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry to ruin this connecting moment we're apparently having here but we're talking to each other like Friday never happened." I sighed and moved a fallen lock of hair from my face.

He pushed off from the bookcase and stepped toward me.

Oh, no.

A sudden cloud of tension had fallen between us and I didn't like it... much.

I put my hands up to stop him and he took that as an invitation to step into them. His hard chest pressed against my palms. "Don't even think about it, Michael. If you get any closer to me--"

"What'll happen if I get closer, Evangeline?"

Oh, dear he said my full name in that alluring voice of his. My mouth went dry and my eyes widened.

"Don't start," I managed to say. "And what is with you and crowding me against a wall?"

He towered over me and his large hands gripped my waist. "This isn't a wall." He murmured as if it were obvious.

I tried pushing a little to try and get some distance between us but he only chuckled.

"Wh-what about what you said. That you're bad for me." I stuttered.

His eyes hardened. He turned his head to the side and sighed. For a moment he just stayed there and I considered trying to running away.

But then his hands caressed my waist and said, "You'll live... For now."

I opened my mouth to ask what he meant when he pressed his hot mouth to mine.
I didn't respond... At first. I tried hard to keep my eyes open but damn was it hard.
He's not persuasive but he had something about him. Unfortunately, at the moment, he was still a mystery. I still knew absolutely nothing about him apart from the fact that he likes his privacy and... He was an amazing kisser.

His tongue thrust into my open mouth and I sighed out a quiet moan.

He was sweeter than I thought. 

A mix between honey and... I'm not even sure what the second thing is but I wouldn't mind finding out. Maybe hormones. 

The kiss remained slow; his mouth moving against mine, his tongue massaging my own. My hands had a mind of their own and did what they'd wanted to do for days. I slid my hands up his strong neck into his silk hair and clenched my hands into it.

He let out a small groan and things went savage from there. 

His large hand moved down my thigh and lifted behind my knee so he could press into me. Pure heat coursed through me and I trembled with absolute delight.

Who the hell was I fooling? This man was ecstasy presented in a beautifully wrapped package. God unleashed him into this world and I'd stumbled right into his path.

I tugged on his hair and he squeezed my thigh... A little too hard but I didn't comment.

He brought my bottom lip into his mouth and nipped it... Also a tiny bit too hard...

His lips hovered over mine as he said, "You're always biting this bottom lip. You drive me insane."

I opened my heavy lids and licked my lips. "I shouldn't be."

His mouth kissed trails down the side of my neck. I should stop this. It's going way too far. And in the library for Christ's sake anyone could walk past. What if someone has already and we didn't know it?

My mind strayed off course as I felt the hand not holding my thigh go to my hair and pull out my loose black elastic holding it on the top of my head. My hair fell to my shoulders and he surprised me by burying his face in it. 

"Watermelon shampoo?"

I controlled myself from smiling and answered, "Yes... But Michael..." I protested breathlessly.

He moved my hair to one side of my neck and made me gasp as he sucked the skin into his mouth. 

I shut my eyes briefly... 

But snapped them open when I felt his sharp teeth scrape across the skin. It stung a little. "Michael?"

His hand tightened like a vice on my thigh and he pinned me to the bookcase.

I put my hands on either side of his face and pulled his face up to look at me. The size of his pupils made my eyes widen. They were as large as the first night I'd seen them after the bonfire. His facial features seemed sharper than before. A menacing look actually.

I brushed my thumbs across his cheekbones. Both of us panting but him slightly more than me.
His hand loosened from my thigh and he slowly dropped my leg. He closed his eyes for a moment and didn't move a single muscle as I stroked his cheeks. It was, in a way, a calming technique. What for, I wasn't entirely sure.

My heart pounded like a drum as I stared at him and watched the hard sharp features disappear into relaxed ones. I stroked his face one last time before putting my hands on his shoulders and putting a little distance between us. Only a little though. He complied and took the small step back.

He opened his eyes and stared at me. His pupils back to normal, but his eyes hard. He blinked a few times and sighed.

A loud bang somewhere within the library brought me back to reality.

We were in a public place. We could be caught. I don't really give a flying crap about the fact that he's my teacher anymore. There are worst things in the world that could happen. And its bit too late for that fact now.

He scrubbed both of his hand over his face and through his messy hair. "Bad idea."

Okay, so I agreed a little that that was a bad idea but he was the one to jump on me.

I straightened out my sweater with shaky hands. "Do you have no self control?" I scolded.

"No."

I stopped moving my hands and looked up at how serious he was. "That was rhetorical."

"Well, I answered it. No."

I narrowed my eyes. "Really?"

"Not around you."

That made me sigh. My heart thumped faster than needed. He glanced at my neck briefly and I wondered if my pulse was prominent. That would be embarrassing.

"Why me? There are plenty of girls that have crushes on you out there."

His face went to that cute frown I'd seen a few times before. And then he took on his signature torn look. He finally scowled at himself and stepped forward. It wasn't threatening nor was it determined like a moment ago. I couldn't make out what he was doing.

"You're different." He mumbled in a deep vibrating voice. His rough hand slid down my wrist and into my own hand. His other buried in my hair and tilted my head up. His natural scent was hard to wrap my head around. Like he was radiating with smells that would attract... To me.
"I ask myself why I can't control myself around you every single day. I try and stay away from you but..."

"Why can I never think straight around you?" I mumbled unconsciously.

"That's a very good question." His voice had dropped an octave... Even more alluring than before. Hard to resist. "One I'm not going to answer."

My mind perked up slightly. "There's an answer to that question?"

A slow cautious smile spread across his face and he started backing away. "I'll see you in class."
He opened my hand, placed my elastic on my palm and then left.

I stared at the bookcase for I don't know how long.

My body still reeling from his touch still wanting to feel his lips against mine again. I touched my hands to my burning cheeks and groaned. No doubt my cheeks were probably as red as my hair right now. But what had just happened seemed completely unreal. I was right to think that when he kissed me I wouldn't be able to get enough. Because damn, right now I was shaking with want.

I have never, ever in my life been like this over a guy. Ever.

I'm actually quite disappointed in myself. I've been at Uni for a month and a half and already I'm under the spell of a gorgeous man... That's my teacher.

Does the saying, "try everything once" count right now?

I floated back to my table and packed everything into my bag.

Lord, my heart was still pounding in my ears and my face was still burning. I didn't think he could have that much of an effect on me.
I needed a moment to just stand still... to calm myself.

But when I looked at one of the clocks on the wall I almost screamed.

I ran down the stairs and to the check out desk for the two books then ran out of the library. Shit. I was twenty-five minutes late.

Luckily though, the room wasn't far away from the library. I stopped at the door, ran my fingers through my hair and tied it loosely into my hair. I took a very deep breath. I could do this. I could just keep my head down...

I knocked once before walking in. The class was silent but I didn't look up from the floor.

"Hello, Miss O'Shea. Nice of you to join us." His husky and charming voice poured over me and I had to lock my muscles to hold back the shiver.

"Yes, I was a little bit preoccupied." I mumbled as I kept my eyes on my feet. I started to walk to the steps when his next question made me stop in my tracks and finally allow the blood to drain from my face.

"Doing?"

"Excuse me?" I tried not to squeak. When I looked up at him I almost groaned. His hair was a mess. Embarrassingly so. Why hadn't he at least checked out his appearance before walking into the theatre?

Well, actually I hadn't a clue what I looked like right now; probably a mess.

He crossed his arms over his broad chest that I'd had my hands on not long ago and tilted his head. "You've interrupted my lecture almost a half hour through. There has to be a good reason."

Yes, it was you and your way of kissing the breath and logic out of me.

"I was in the library looking for a book for my poetry assignment and... I got lost. It's a big library." I said with a raised brow. "Sorry for interrupting."

Without another word I walked past the stares and squeezed my way through to my chair.

I ignored Kate's smirk and Damien and Laura's questioning looks to take out my notebook.

After a moment of staring at my desk I dropped my head to the table with a bang. Michael paused for only a second but carried on as if nothing happened although I was definitely aware of the amusement in his voice as he continued his lecture.

"Sweetie?" A voice whispered in my left ear.

I turned my head in Kate's direction. "What could you possibly want?"

She laughed quietly. "I just thought you'd like to know that you look completely flustered. Not to mention you walked in breathless. Oh and you're neck is pink, looks a bit like a hickie."

Well, that explained why he felt the need to ask me what I was doing so he could embarrass me.

And that also explained the damned staring.

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