Title: Voyeur
Author: Fiona Cole
Genre: Student/Teacher Romance, Contemporary
Publication date: April 26th, 2018
Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Photography: Alex Sens
Goodreads
Author: Fiona Cole
Genre: Student/Teacher Romance, Contemporary
Publication date: April 26th, 2018
Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Photography: Alex Sens
Goodreads
I didn’t know she was my student the first time I paid to watch her at Voyeur.
Once she walked into my classroom, another smiling college freshman, I knew I should stop going. Stop watching.
But I couldn’t do it. Everything about her makes me want more, and once I realize she wants me too, the temptation becomes irresistible.
The worst part is that she has no idea her professor is the one watching behind the glass.
I just have to hope that once she finds out the truth, she wants the same thing I do. Because now that I've seen all of her, I can't look away.
Excerpt . . .
Slamming another drawer closed, I looked toward Dr. Pierce’s office, hoping he had heard, and it annoyed him. I refused to think of him as Callum. He’d made it clear this week that he was officially Dr. Pierce.
Abusing his power as my superior, if you asked me. It was the second night he’d kept me later than necessary. The whole office was deserted except for me and him. Every time we spoke, it was Miss Derringer with a distant voice. Lacking all emotion. What the hell had changed from the heated looks in class last week? Was he pissed that I’d refused to stay to talk to him? That I’d called out on Friday?
I’d just needed time to process, the whole situation clouding my mind. Then the entire time I’d worked at Voyeur over the weekend, I’d been looking for him. Constantly waiting for him to walk through the door, come to me and demand I
take his request for another repeat. My heart had been erratic every minute I was there, worried that he’d come, more worried that he wouldn’t.
And he hadn’t.
Feeling that desire for him to come to me had cracked open a door to clarity. I wanted him to. For the first time I had a solid feeling of want. Not fear or indecisiveness but want. Want for him to walk through the door and stare at me the same way he had in class.
But he never came and clocking out on Sunday night had been depressing.
I hoped I’d have time to talk to him on Monday, that we would sit and have our lunch and figure it out. But he’d shut his door and told me I should go grab some lunch and be back in an hour. I’d stared at the wood between us with my jaw hanging open. When he finally opened the door again, it was to request I type up meeting notes.
“If you would, Miss. Derringer,” he’d said, gesturing to the papers on the corner of the desk without even bothering to look up from his work. As though those same fingers hadn’t been buried inside me, hadn’t made me come.
That had been the beginning of the benign requests and menial tasks.
Reorganize the beakers.
Rewash the beakers.
File these papers alphabetically. File these numerically.
Make these copies and organize the packets.
Go to the chemistry department and help them move the centrifuge up to our floor.
I was waiting for him to ask me to get on the floor and spit-shine his shoes. I ground my jaw at each request. I hadn’t hoped today would’ve been any better after his completely ignoring my existence in class, but I hadn’t expected him to keep me late. Again.
It made me want to regret having let anything happen between us, but I didn’t. Not really. I missed the friendship we’d formed. I missed sharing lunches with him and laughing over our easy banter. That was the most painful part of all of this.
Even though staying late on a night I had off from Voyeur and could catch up on homework was a close second.
I walked to his office and stared at his head bent over some papers. I knew he knew I was there, but he refused to look up and acknowledge me. Why bother?
“I’m done with everything, Dr. Pierce.” I made sure to stress his name, so he had no doubt I felt his cold shoulder.
“Another thirty minutes and I’ll be ready to lock up. You can help me,” he said, not even bothering to look up.
That was enough. It was after seven and even if we hadn’t shared our experience, I wouldn’t stand for this disrespect. I was sick and tired of him acting like an asshole. I had more than two months left with him, and I wasn’t going to let him think he could walk all over me.
“You can’t keep me here.”
That got his attention. Finally, his head lifted, and he stared at me with blank eyes.
“Excuse me, Miss Derringer?”
I scowled at the Miss Derringer. He saw and a small flicker of something crossed his eyes. Too fast for me to see. I stomped, like a child throwing a temper tantrum, further into the room and slammed the door. No one was around, and the heavy wood banging shut made me feel better.
“I may only be a teenager and you’re my professor, but you can’t take advantage of me like this.”
He laughed. Actually laughed. My eyebrows rose high on my forehead. His head fell back, and mouth opened around the deep rumble escaping into the room to taunt me. I took a deep breath and furrowed my brows. His chest shook with the humor he couldn’t seem to contain.
“This is not fucking funny,” I growled.
Getting himself under control, his eyes were no longer blank when he looked at me. The blue almost glowed in the dimly lit room. I took an involuntary step back as his gaze raked over me, each inch of my body igniting with his stare.
“Oaklyn, trust me when I tell you I see you as anything but a teenager. Anything but than my student.”
Abusing his power as my superior, if you asked me. It was the second night he’d kept me later than necessary. The whole office was deserted except for me and him. Every time we spoke, it was Miss Derringer with a distant voice. Lacking all emotion. What the hell had changed from the heated looks in class last week? Was he pissed that I’d refused to stay to talk to him? That I’d called out on Friday?
I’d just needed time to process, the whole situation clouding my mind. Then the entire time I’d worked at Voyeur over the weekend, I’d been looking for him. Constantly waiting for him to walk through the door, come to me and demand I
take his request for another repeat. My heart had been erratic every minute I was there, worried that he’d come, more worried that he wouldn’t.
And he hadn’t.
Feeling that desire for him to come to me had cracked open a door to clarity. I wanted him to. For the first time I had a solid feeling of want. Not fear or indecisiveness but want. Want for him to walk through the door and stare at me the same way he had in class.
But he never came and clocking out on Sunday night had been depressing.
I hoped I’d have time to talk to him on Monday, that we would sit and have our lunch and figure it out. But he’d shut his door and told me I should go grab some lunch and be back in an hour. I’d stared at the wood between us with my jaw hanging open. When he finally opened the door again, it was to request I type up meeting notes.
“If you would, Miss. Derringer,” he’d said, gesturing to the papers on the corner of the desk without even bothering to look up from his work. As though those same fingers hadn’t been buried inside me, hadn’t made me come.
That had been the beginning of the benign requests and menial tasks.
Reorganize the beakers.
Rewash the beakers.
File these papers alphabetically. File these numerically.
Make these copies and organize the packets.
Go to the chemistry department and help them move the centrifuge up to our floor.
I was waiting for him to ask me to get on the floor and spit-shine his shoes. I ground my jaw at each request. I hadn’t hoped today would’ve been any better after his completely ignoring my existence in class, but I hadn’t expected him to keep me late. Again.
It made me want to regret having let anything happen between us, but I didn’t. Not really. I missed the friendship we’d formed. I missed sharing lunches with him and laughing over our easy banter. That was the most painful part of all of this.
Even though staying late on a night I had off from Voyeur and could catch up on homework was a close second.
I walked to his office and stared at his head bent over some papers. I knew he knew I was there, but he refused to look up and acknowledge me. Why bother?
“I’m done with everything, Dr. Pierce.” I made sure to stress his name, so he had no doubt I felt his cold shoulder.
“Another thirty minutes and I’ll be ready to lock up. You can help me,” he said, not even bothering to look up.
That was enough. It was after seven and even if we hadn’t shared our experience, I wouldn’t stand for this disrespect. I was sick and tired of him acting like an asshole. I had more than two months left with him, and I wasn’t going to let him think he could walk all over me.
“You can’t keep me here.”
That got his attention. Finally, his head lifted, and he stared at me with blank eyes.
“Excuse me, Miss Derringer?”
I scowled at the Miss Derringer. He saw and a small flicker of something crossed his eyes. Too fast for me to see. I stomped, like a child throwing a temper tantrum, further into the room and slammed the door. No one was around, and the heavy wood banging shut made me feel better.
“I may only be a teenager and you’re my professor, but you can’t take advantage of me like this.”
He laughed. Actually laughed. My eyebrows rose high on my forehead. His head fell back, and mouth opened around the deep rumble escaping into the room to taunt me. I took a deep breath and furrowed my brows. His chest shook with the humor he couldn’t seem to contain.
“This is not fucking funny,” I growled.
Getting himself under control, his eyes were no longer blank when he looked at me. The blue almost glowed in the dimly lit room. I took an involuntary step back as his gaze raked over me, each inch of my body igniting with his stare.
“Oaklyn, trust me when I tell you I see you as anything but a teenager. Anything but than my student.”
Giveaway . . .
About the Author . . .
Fiona Cole is a military wife and a stay at home mom with a degree in Biology and Chemistry. As much as she loved science she decided to postpone her career to stay at home with her two little girls and immersed herself in the world of books until finally deciding to write her own. Where You Can Find Me is Fiona's debut novel and will hopefully be the first of many.
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