Diary 14:The Professor’s Obsession
Chapter 61
Monroe never believed in campus gossip. It was mostly nonsense-exaggerated stories meant to keep students entertained between lectures. But when it came to Professor Adrian Blackwood, the rumors felt impossible to ignore.
They said he was ruthless. That he didn’t tolerate distractions. That his lectures were the hardest to pass, not because he was unfair, but because he never let anything slide. Some students claimed he had no patience for arrogance. Others whispered that no woman had ever been able to catch his attention.
None of it mattered to Ivy.
She hadn’t transferred to Blackwood University to chase after a professor’s approval. She was here to focus on her studies, keep her head down, and avoid unnecessary attention.
But the moment she walked into his lecture hall, something inside her shifted.
Professor Adrian Blackwood stood at the front of the room, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the veins along his forearms. He was tall, effortlessly commanding, with sharp, calculating eyes that made it impossible to look away.
His gaze swept over the room, and for the briefest second, it landed on her.
Ivy held her breath.
A flicker of recognition crossed his face. But then it was gone, replaced by an unreadable expression as he turned back to the syllabus.
Still, her pulse thrummed in her ears.
She shouldn’t care. She really, really shouldn’t.
—
After Class
Ivy stayed behind longer than she intended, carefully sliding her books into her bag while the rest of the students filtered out.
When she finally looked up, Adrian Blackwood was still at his desk, reading over something with a furrowed brow.
Their eyes met again.
This time, he didn’t look away.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair, one hand resting against his jaw.
“You’re a transfer student,” he said smoothly. “Ivy Monroe.”
Her breath caught. She hadn’t expected him to remember her name so quickly.
“Yes,” she replied, keeping her voice steady.
“You’re late to the semester,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “That means you’ll need to catch up.”
Ivy nodded, gripping the strap of her bag. “I know. I’m prepared for that.”
Adrian studied her for a moment before setting his papers down. “Good.”
Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t approval, exactly. It was something else-something she couldn’t quite place.
“You can leave now, Miss Monroe,” he added, dismissing her.
Ivy exhaled and turned toward the door.
But just as she reached for the handle, he spoke again.
“Don’t waste my time.”
She glanced over her shoulder, confused. “I won’t.”
His lips twitched, almost like he didn’t believe her.
“We’ll see.”
—
Later That Evening The Campus Library
Ivy should have been studying, but she couldn’t focus.
Her mind kept replaying the way Adrian had looked at her-how sharp his eyes had been, how his voice had sent shivers down her spine.
She had never reacted this way to anyone. And certainly not to a professor.
With a frustrated sigh, she stood up, grabbing her books. It was late, and the library was nearly empty. She needed fresh air, something to clear her head.
But as she turned the corner, she stopped short.
Adrian Blackwood stood at one of the shelves, his fingers tracing over the spines of old books. He looked just as composed as ever-if not slightly more relaxed, with his tie loosened and his sleeves still rolled up.
He noticed her immediately.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then, he tilted his head. “Miss Monroe.”
Her fingers tightened around her books. “Professor.”
Adrian took a step closer. Not inappropriate-just enough to make the air between them feel charged. “Still catching up?”
“Yes,” she said, even though she knew that wasn’t why she was here.
His lips curled slightly, like he saw right through her.
“I hope you’re not wasting time.”
The words were casual, but the way he said them felt… different.
Ivy swallowed hard. “I’m not.”
Adrian watched her for a moment longer, then reached for a book on the shelf beside her.
She could feel the warmth of him, the subtle brush of his sleeve against her shoulder.
Her pulse spiked.
He was too close.
She should have stepped away. She should have moved.
But she didn’t.
Adrian turned his head slightly, his breath warm against her temple.
“This is a mistake,” he murmured, so softly she almost thought she imagined it.
Her throat went dry.
She should have agreed. She should have walked away.
But instead, she whispered back, “Then why aren’t you leaving?”
Silence.
Then, in one swift motion, he pulled her behind a bookshelf, pressing her against the cold wall.
His hands gripped the edge of the shelf beside her, his body just inches from hers.
He didn’t touch her.
But he didn’t need to.
The tension between them was suffocating.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ivy,” he murmured.
Her heart pounded against her ribs.
“So are you,” she shot back.
His lips parted slightly, his jaw tightening.
And then, just when she thought he would step away-
He didn’t.
He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just watched her, like she was a puzzle he was desperate to solve.
Finally, when her lungs burned and her pulse threatened to burst from her skin-
He stepped back and left. Just like that. Like nothing had happened at all. Like he had never even been there.
But he had been there, and she knew it.
And as Ivy emerged from the dark corner, she realized something she would never admit.
She wanted him to do it again.
—
One Week Later A Bar Off-Campus
Adrian rarely left campus.
It was a rule he stuck to-no distractions, no unnecessary risks. But tonight, he couldn’t stop himself. He needed a drink, some space to breathe, and a fucking chance to stop thinking about her.
It had been a week since she’d walked into his lecture. A week since he’d tried to ignore her. A week since he found her in the library and gave in to his goddamn temptations.
He should have regretted it. He should have regretted pulling her behind the shelf, standing close enough to taste her breath against his lips.
But he hadn’t.
He hadn’t regretted a damn thing.
Instead, the image of her had burned its way into his brain.
The sharp curve of her chin. The defiant look in her eyes. The way her body had trembled against his, her lips parted and inviting.
Adrian swallowed his drink, slamming the glass down on the counter.
He’d never acted so impulsively.
He’d never let anyone distract him.
Not like this. Not like her.
Suddenly, a commotion came from the entrance, followed by the sound of laughter and music.
His body tensed as he recognized the voice.
Ivy Monroe.