Page 3 of The Professor: Ep. 2
Damn.I should have gone out last night. It’d been my first evening back in Nashville since leaving for New York last month, and I really needed a good, hard fuck. Mostly because I hadn’t touched anyone since Kayla in her childhood bedroom, and that whole event felt unfinished.
Which was probably why she’d decided to enroll in my class at the last minute.
Clever girl.
Bad girl, I corrected with a thought as I entered my office.Very bad girl.
And her expression as I turned to face her told me she wasn’t at all apologetic about it. “Shut the door,” I told her.
She responded by nudging it closed with the heel of her boot.
“Lock it,” I added.
Her dark eyes smoldered with approval. “Yes, sir.”
The latch echoed through the space as I walked over to pull the blinds down. Each movement only further solidified her fate. Which would end with her naked on my desk. Because fuck it. We’d already broken the rules, why not do it again?
But I would be very clear about this being the last time.
I set my bag down by my chair and turned to find Kayla right behind me with a paper slip in her hand. “I’m adding your class.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
She lifted a shoulder. “A certain professor said I have a knack for economics, so probably.”
My lips twitched. “Sounds like a wise professor.”
“I thought so, too, until he left me high and dry last month after promising me a full night of fun.” She arched one brown eyebrow. “He didn’t even remove his shirt before he left.”
Ah, so that’s what this is about.I hadn’t fulfilled all her requirements. “Hmm,” I hummed, taking the paper from her hand and setting it next to my keyboard for later. “I’m sure he had a reason.”
“I don’t care about his reason,” she said, taking a bold step toward me. “I care about finishing what we started.”
I searched her expression, a tad shocked by her revelation. Most women in her situation would demand an explanation. But all Kayla wanted was to pick up where we left off. How fascinating.
She ran her fingers over my sweater, the caress one of a woman confident in her path as she drew a trail downward toward my belt. I grabbed her wrist, stilling her touch against my lower abdomen.
“What if he doesn’t want to finish it?” I asked her, my opposite hand catching her chin to hold her gaze. “What if he got exactly what he wanted and is ready to move on?”
Her nostrils flared. “Then I’d call him a liar.” She shifted her hips, aligning herself against me. “You want me. I want you. No strings is fine with me. But you didn’t uphold your part of our arrangement, and I’m here to collect.”
“And if I don’t want to give you what you want?”
“Then I’ll have fun proving you wrong in the front row of your classroom for the next fifteen weeks.” She smiled. “Professor.”
My grip tightened on her wrist. “Are you threatening me, Miss Mickelson?” Not that I minded. If she wanted to flash me during class, I certainly wouldn’t complain. Although, it would be rather distracting.
“Maybe. Are you going to punish me, Professor?” she countered, her voice breathy and filled with forbidden promise.
“Mmm, I should.” I drew my thumb along her pulse, then released her. “Palms on my desk, Miss Mickelson.”
Her pupils dilated as she turned to place her hands on the wood. I eyed her position and stepped behind her.
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” I breathed against her ear as I pressed my palm to the middle of her back between her shoulder blades. “Bend.”
She lowered herself gracefully to my desk, placing her pert ass in the air near my groin.
“Stretch out your arms,” I instructed her, smiling as she obeyed like a good little pupil. But I knew she wasn’t innocent. Not after arriving in my classroom and bending over to show off her short skirt. I drew my finger down her spine to her waist, then over to her hip. “You know we shouldn’t do this.”
