Page 1 of Such a Bad Girl
CHAPTER ONE
REBECCA
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
My feet hit the polished wooden floor as I dashed along the hall, glancing at my watch and cursing. Being late on my first day of the semester wasn’t my plan. I’d so carefully planned every minute from getting up to getting to class.
I hadn’t allotted three spare minutes for the idiots who’d thrown their ball by the front doors, knocking my binder out of my hand and sending papers flying every which way.
Settling for a scathing look, I lacked the time to stop and give them a piece of my mind. After all, it would eat into precious minutes, and I desperately wanted to make a good impression at my first lecture.
Instead of arriving at my first scheduled college class with grace, my hair stuck to my sweat-coated forehead, my binder half-hanging in disarray.
The door stood open, and I stumbled through it, keeping my head down and hoping no one would pay any attention to my late entrance. Students stared and throats cleared as I scanned for an available seat, hoping to slink to the back.
No such luck.
The handful of empty seats was all on the bottom tier, right up front and centre.
Of course.
Those football guys were lucky I didn’t get a good look at them. I hated being thrown off my schedule.
Not that I could do a lot to them. Not while keeping out of the limelight like I wanted to.
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I scuttled toward an empty seat. I slid into it while balancing my messed-up binder on the thin table in front.
‘Class begins at nine a.m., Miss…’
My blush deepened, practically radiating enough heat to warm my seat-mates. I lifted my eyes to the professor, who stared at me with a raised brow and eyes reminiscent of a stormy tropical sea. A deep, tumultuous green.
‘Benson,’ I croaked out, even my voicemisbehaving. My out-of-place timing had disrupted everything. Rebecca Benson wasn’t known for being meek. I’d had many monikers attached over the years: a go-getter, studious, relentless, a control freak, but neither meek nor mild.
They say who you were in high school isn’t who you’ll be in college... Perhaps my plans needed a touch more flexibility than I’d granted them. A tweak.
The professor stared. His brows knitted for a moment before he caught himself and turned back to the board, continuing his lesson.
A lesson I struggled to focus on at all.
Because my teacher was mouth-wateringly attractive. His slacks clung to his thick thighs and framed his generously muscled ass. Damn, how did anyone get anything done with him up front in the classroom?
Unfolding my binder, I smoothed out the crumpled pages within. It had taken two years of hard work to finally gain acceptance into the advanced mathematics program, and I was determined not to let a morning blip derail my first day.
There was too much work to do.
Midway through the lesson, my hand cramped from my furious note-taking. Damn, the professorspoke faster than my pen could follow. I wished I could ask him to slow down a bit.
Stretching, I shifted my legs, tucking my feet to the right. A hot flash washed over me, pulling my attention to the man at the front of the class. His eyes snagged on my bare thighs, and I tugged my skirt down an inch while blushing furiously.
Illicit hunger flickered in his deep green eyes, shadowing them with a predatory darkness as his gaze crept higher.Higher. A knot formed in my core. Being spotted—singled out—by the attractive older man felt dirty.
Kind of delicious.
Someone interrupted his one-man perv session with a question, and the tension building in my stomach dissipated.
