The Runaway Professor

30. Back in Time

*Cate's POV*

The look of pure terror on her face would forever be burned into my mind. A direct copy of it was committed to my brain. A painful memory of us in bed, her almost crying in pain.

Perhaps I had a tendency for dramatics. Earning my masters in business and bachelor's degree in marketing may qualify me to become a professor at a university and teach aspiring CEO's, yet it was not necessarily my goal in life. Educating young souls—our world's future—may come with the reward of knowing such, however it did not fulfill me. Not in that area.

I met the lady whom I found to be more confusing as the years passed by. Six years since her graduation to be precise.

"You're thinking dirty thoughts... or you're plotting something— do not think about tickling me!" Delia warned, finger in the air in threat. "Catherine." Her eyes squinted as her brows pushed down on them.

I may have fucked this one up. The whole trust thing was fleeting with us. I may have pranked her one time too much. Now, every time she catches me glaring at her—no matter the reason—the first assumption will perhaps forever remain one of chaos.

"I was thinking cheesy thoughts, my love." Approaching her sitting figure on the couch, she did not soften her expression. Instead her body when ridged. "I come in peace."

"Mhm, sure." Rolling her eyes and shoulders, I placed my palms above her knees. "No tickling."

"I promise." Laying her trust in me, I slowly leaned in, leaving a chaste kiss on her lips and tingling on mine. "See, I have no evil plot."

"But a personal vendetta against me." I chuckled with delight at her exaggeration. Perhaps I was rubbing off on her. Her pouty lip, the soft knit of her eyebrows and the crossed arms painted a lovely image.

"I do not have a personal vendetta against my wife." Her face crumbled and the smile broke her free of the act.

"See that's what I'm talking about." She suddenly worried again, assuming I did plan something after all. "And I'm not your wife."

The small word 'yet' laid on the very tip of my tongue. "Gosh, how did I mess up so much?" Forehead to her chest, I exhaled. Upon inhaling I was blessed with the natural scent of a flowery smell.

"Good view?"

Smiling I lifted my chin and met her playful expression. "Very." Taking note of her glancing between me and her phone repeatedly, I arched a brow. "Italy meant no work. If I remember correctly, you were the one insisting on the rule in the first place, no? But do tell me if I am mistaken."

Ever since working as the media manger for her mother's company, something she gladly did these days, she was working her ass off. Literally. Extra hour after extra hour rolled in. And she was good at her job. Fucking good. What was most vital however was that she enjoyed it. Who knew all it took for her to be happy in the employment market was to ask her mother for something creative to do.

Defeated she sighed and I tugged a stray strand of hair behind her ear. A smooth wave between my fingers. The new length of her hair did add an ethereal touch to her overall lovely appearance. Curves sculpted by the gods themselves. Hair reaching her mid-back and a few decorative silver pieces charming her features. Gosh, I loved her piercings. All of them. Her thin loungewear set accentuated the two peaks on her chest.

"Mama—"

"Your mama told you to not answer work emails. She even told me to remind you of that." Tilting my head aside, I found my hand searching for skin to skin contact as I caressed her jaw. The huff of acceptance reverberated from her lungs. I won this round. "We did plan to visit some places here, did we not?"