But shit, I can’t.
I can’t even think like that anymore, let alone act on my desires.
Madison is in my class. Andthatis the worst thing possible. Because I have to somehow compose myself and give this lecture to a room full of students.
“Is he okay?”
The voice hesitates, filled with concern, but it blows sense into my lungs all the same. I drop down to pick up the paperwork now strewn about my feet. Hidden behind the podium, I attempt to compose myself. A few deep breaths, a light tap on the sternum. Neither works. But the murmurs grow louder.
Paperwork in my hands, I glance up at the slide and push myself to stand. My notes are completely out of order, but I know this text like I know my own soul. I can do this.
I avoid Madison’s gaze when I turn back to the class. Avoid thinking about the nights we shared a bed, or the delicious taste of her.
“On Writing …” I begin, and the rest of the lecture passes in a blur of stumbled words and disinterested students. All of them except Madison. Focusing on the lecture is impossible under her adoring stare.
No matter how hard I try not to look at her, it’s like trying not to look at the sun. Her light hauls my eyes toward her. She watches me teach, intently and with adoration. She smiles at my puns, looks concerned when I speak of how hard being an author can be, takes notes when I remind the class of an important point. And it fucking kills me that she is so perfect.
The perfect student. The perfect woman.
One glorious week was all we had, but that was all it took for me to fall. Hard. Fast. Desperately.
“Before your tutorials, try to get some of the reading done,” I say to the class as I turn off the projector. “Your tutors will have details of your first assignment.”
Chairs empty and a wave of bodies race for the back door. My hands fall to the podium and my head sinks between my shoulders. What a mess.
“Well,” her voice cuts through the noise of the students, “that was awkward.”
My shoulders shake as I hold in a desperate laugh that wants to escape. Awkward could possibly be the understatement of my entire career.
I can’t look at her. If I do, I might kiss her. I might never let go.
“Look at me,” she whispers as she steps closer. The podium stands between us, but she leans over it. Her face is so close to mine I can feel the warmth of her breath on my lips. Opening my eyes, I stare into hers. The air in the lecture hall thins until my lungs hurt, unable to suck in the oxygen I need.
Her breasts rise and fall in time with my own heavy breaths, and her eyelids grow heavy. Goosebumps scatter down her arms and a blush rises from her neck. The twisting in my core is back and I feel blood rushing lower.
“I had a really, really, great week.”
Madison’s fingers trickle along my forearm to toy with the folded sleeves of my shirt. My other arm reaches across the podium. Cupping her cheek, I trail my thumb along her lower lip. Her tongue darts out, following its path.
Logic and reason leave my body. I step around the podium, and she melts into my arms. My arms around her back, I pull our bodies closer and gaze down at her. Whatever she can give me will never be enough.
The side door slams. Jolting apart, Madison scurries to grab her bag from where she left it on the seat.
“Professor Fraser.” The high-pitched voice carries around the seating area, giving me pause to gather my thoughts. “How was your first class?”
Her heels click as she patters her way into the room, stopping abruptly when she sees Madison.
“Oh, a student.” Professor Dausset’s tone sharpens.
“Hi! I’m Madison.”
The difference in their voices is stark. Madison’s is light and airy, like a summer breeze that leaves a tickle down your spine. Professor Dausset’s is filled with bitter disgust. Her hatred for the generation below her sitting deep in her throat.
Her wrinkled eyes dart from me to Madison, then back again. The firm line between her brows deepens. Settling her stare on me, she steps to place herself in front of Madison.
“Interesting.” With her pointer finger, she pushes her thin framed glasses up her nose.
“I was just asking Professor Fraser about his decision to addOn Writingto the reading list at the last minute.”
