Marrying the professor

Chapter 15

Elena Parker POV:

Looking around my surround, sun rays escaped from the huge gold curtains. Birds chirping in a pitched note, make me want to get out of this bed and choke them to death. Gazing down to look at my attire, the white shirt is wrinkled up, exposing my thighs. 

My cheeks feel hot, recalling last night's memory. I slept in his embrace, I did. I thought I will regret it in the morning, I don't. The absence of his warmth, his scent. I looked at the other side of the bed we shared, he didn't lay there. 

Raising myself up, a warm feeling settled in my guts. His scent clings to the sheet, and the shirt I'm wearing. Closing my eyes, I wanted the chaos of feelings to leave. This is wrong, all of it. This means nothing. 

He shouldn't have seen me crying, fragile and weak. It's because I despise him, I don't want him to see me broken. Yes, I despise Adam, I hate him. But why does it sounds delusive to my own self? 

I sighed, this deal is going to be exhausting. It's an agreement with no touching, and the first thing I did was kissing him that night, and yesterday I slept in his arms. I really can't believe myself, he will definitely think ill of me. 

We need to stay away from each other physically, it's on-paper marriage. Remember, you hate Adam! 

The door closing sounds made me look up, he is standing, hands in his pocket. His gaze settles on me, and I quickly smooth the shirt pulling it down, covering my thighs. 

"Good morning," he regarded coldly, his stare a blank and cold ice. His jaw clenching, lips a thin line. Oh, it must be about last night, but he told me to come. Is he mad? maybe he is, maybe he regrets it. 

"Good morning," I respond avoiding looking at him. He is different today, No! he is like the first time I met him, cold and distant. He has the right to, he probably regrets choosing me. I should have acted professionally, even if I had a panic attack. I should have refused to be calmed by him. 

He stands silent, but I feel his gaze on me. A sick feeling rested in my guts, the same that haunted me last week. The sickness that followed the thoughts of being cheap, of being sold. Thanks to his cold moody attitude, it looks that nausea won't be gone.

Why does he acts nice and sweet and then turn to a cold blank wall? I shouldn't have felt bad for misjudging him, he is the same arrogant professor I met that morning. Silly of me to think that he is not what I assumed. 

"Is something wrong?" I questionably look at him, he can say it in my face, I would like to hear it from him. Adam's eyebrows shot up in weariness, "What makes you think that something is wrong?" 

His tone, a cold bored one, and he is asking what makes me think something is wrong. I really don't feel like laughing, but a smile plasters on my lips, "Right, I don't know maybe I did something wrong. You tell me." I tile my head in anticipation. 

A wash of emotions passes on his handsome face, he shakes his head, "Last night thing is meaningless. Just act like it didn't happen." 

Pain stings my chest, I wanted to hear it from him, now I don't. My breath is stuck in my lungs, as I can't seem to breathe. I neutralize my expression and nodes and look at him, "I apologize, it was a panic attack." 

"You talked in your sleep," he says lowly, not making a remark of my apology. Talked in my sleep? well yes, I do talk in my sleep but it happens when I'm tired of thinking about something too much. 

My eyebrows knot in confusion, "Did I scared you?" I ask, a devilish thought of Adam being scared to hear someone talking in the middle of the night makes me break a laugh.