Chapter 4 Xav

XAVIER'S P.O.V.

She's a pretty little thing, Kathleen. Pure, just like her name. I knew her, down to the tiniest information, which would seem unimportant. I knew her favorite color; I knew she liked caramel lattes with lots of cream and sugar; I knew she usually took jasmine tea whenever she felt stressed; I knew about her passion for art; I knew about her dick of an ex-boyfriend. I knew about her strained relationship with her father and her brother; the two weren't the closest bunch but stuck out for each other. Like I said, I knew every little detail about her down to the last bit.

The past year had been the hardest; I barely held on to my last shred of self-control as I fought the urge to take her own and claim her as mine. She was mine, but she didn't know it just yet. In all my years of living, I had never been enamored by a woman as much as I had been by Kathleen. Sure, I had fucked women, a handful of them, but I was never really attached to them. I never saw them for more than what they were to me, an object of pleasure. But from the moment I saw her, saw her captivating smile, heard her enchanting laughter, and saw her beautiful curves, I wanted more.

Specifically, I wanted her, craved to touch her, feel her, so I made a vow; I vowed to make her mine no matter the cost.

Kathleen was an introvert, and I knew the only way I'd ever get close to her was to become someone she had to talk to, hence my position of being a professor at her school. It had been relatively easy; my family came from old money and was quite known in the country, hence the influence and ability to get what I wanted.

Our encounter at the cafe had been anything but coincidental; I had my eyes on her, so I knew she was there, but it was the perfect opportunity to be around her. She was attracted to me; I could feel it in my bones, and the thought alone made me happy. I'd make her fall for me just as I fell for her. At first I thought it was just a childish crush I had, but then it grew; she filled my every thought, and the will to be around her grew stronger. Kathleen Ramirez may not know it yet, but she's bound to be mine, whether she wants to be or not.

*****

The day dragged on relatively slowly as I carried on with the lecture; occasionally I'd look over at Kathleen to find her already staring at me in concentration, looking away whenever we'd make eye contact. She fancied me, that much I knew. The thought nearly had me grinning from ear to ear as pride surged within me.

As the lecture ended and the students trooped out, I called out to Kathleen.

"Miss Ramirez, may I speak to you for a moment?" Her eyes flickered over to her friend, who pointed outside using her thumb.

"I'll be outside, Kat." And then she left, but not before giving her a 'discreet' wink. I watched Kathleen make her way over to me nervously just as the last student left the class, shutting the door behind her.

She looked beautiful, wearing a short, flowy, red and black plaid dress that complemented her red hair. Walking around the desk, I stand before her with my arms folded, watching her take a step back while fondling the strap of her bag, not quite making eye contact with me.

"Are you nervous, Miss Ramirez?"

Her eyes flicker over to my face. "No, sir." She responds quietly as she peers up at me beneath those long lashes, the innocence in her eyes and voice nearly driving me mad with desire.

Feeling the need to be close to her, I take a step forward, my tall frame towering over her; I notice her tense up. "Let me rephrase my question: Do I make you nervous, Miss Ramirez?"

"W-what? Yes, I mean no."She stutters, clearing her throat. "No, you don't make me nervous."

"I see." It goes silent between us as I run my eyes over her; she shifts her weight between one foot and the other.

"Was there something you wanted to discuss with me, sir?" Her angelic voice snapped me out of my staring.

"Yes, there is." Stepping away from her, I walk over to my bag and pull out a sketchpad before walking back to her. Holding it out to her, her face crinkled in slight confusion as her head cocked to the side, but she took the sketchpad from me, looking between the item and me.

"Open it." Surprise and admiration slip onto her face as she looks through my work.

"Wow, they're beautiful." She smiled at me, returning her focus to the paper as she continued to flip, "I mean, I know you said you dabbled in art, but you're good. You could make a living as an artist." She joked as she flipped onto the next page, her brows crinkling in slight confusion as her smile slipped away. I take a look at what drawing she'd come across, the corners of my mouth lifting up in a slight smirk.

"Is there a problem, Miss Ramirez?"

"Uh, of course not. But this drawing, it's-I don't know how to describe it." She breaks off in an uneasy voice as she closes the pad and hands it over to me, to which I place it on the table.

"Familiar?"

"Yeah, yeah, something like that."

"That's because it is. I'd be disappointed if you hadn't recognized yourself; that'd make me a terrible artist."

"What?" Her eyes widened in surprise as her gaze flickered to the pad and back to me.

Swallowing thickly, she speaks, "Why would you draw me, Professor Dawson? Isn't that like, I dunno, illegal or something? You're my professor."

Closing the space between us, I take a strand of her hair, twisting it between my fingers as we lock eyes. "Because you're my muse, Kathleen. You're beautiful." I respond, ignoring her last words.

"Am I? Because I hardly believe that I'd be so beautiful to be considered a muse." She breathes nervously, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Without thinking, my fingers come up to trace her lips, the air around us growing thick with tension as I feel her step closer to me, her front slightly pressing against me.

Chuckling lowly, "You have no idea just how wrong you are."

In that very moment, all sense of reason to make mine slowly flew out the window as I cupped and caressed her cheek. Her skin was soft; she smelled like roses and vanilla with a hint of coconuts. I wasn't one who fancied sweet-smelling perfumes, but she was different; I wanted to be soaked up in her smell, a hunger in me to ravage her stirred within me.

"Still," she steps away from me, breaking the moment we had, "I believe it's inappropriate for a professor to draw his student, sir; anyone who'd come across that drawing would think there was something going on between us, and that could put us both at risk. If you'd excuse me, I need to go". My jaw clenched at her words, knowing there was some truth to what she had said. But I didn't give a damn about anyone thinking there was anything between us; she was mine even if she didn't know it yet.

If she left now, then my chances of getting close to her would go down the drain, and there was no way in hell I would let that happen.

"Wait." I call out to her just as she was about to open the door.

"I have a request, Miss Ramirez," she turned to me, her attention piqued. "I would like for you to accompany me somewhere, and not to worry; it's a private space, so no one would recognize you."

Sighing, she shut her eyes tightly for a brief moment. "Professor Dawson, I-"

"Just this once, Miss Ramirez, and then we never have to speak to each other except for academic purposes."

I could see the wheels turning in her head until she exhaled, "Fine." And with that, she left the room.

A mischievous grin broke out on my face as I stared after her, knowing that she had unknowingly sealed herself to me with that very word. Kathleen Ramirez would be mine, and she had just lit the match to set the flames. Let the games begin.