Elliot
You’re straight up sexy. And so fucking gorgeous it makes my chest ache.
Me
Jesus. I need to go back to work before you kill me with all that swoon.
And thanks to you, I won’t end up in my kitchen at midnight, frustrated that I’m out of all my favorite snacks.
Elliot
Anything for you. Sweet dreams, Mystery Girl.
Me
Night, El.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ELLIOT
“Okay, that’ll do it for today. I’ll need your papers in my inbox by next Thursday, and if you’re only planning to start Wednesday, I’d advise against it. I’ll know, and it won’t end well for you.”
A chorus of groans sounds from all around the classroom, and I grin at the twenty or so students scattered around. “Give me a break guys—you’re grad students. Some of you are PhD students. It’s not like you didn’t know there was going to be, like, actual work to do here. So go, do the work, learn all the things. See you next week.”
Scanning the second row, I lock eyes with Amelia, who is slipping her notebook into her bag, and toss her a surreptitious wink. She flushes and shakes her head, giving me acut the shitlook that immediately has my dick twitching.
It’s been over a week since Amelia and I started…whatever it is we started between us, and I can honestly say I’ve never had more fun at school in my life. Would I like to be able to walk around campus holding her hand and kiss her wherever andwhenever I want? Damn right I would. But there’s something about hiding this from everyone that is just really doing it for me. Every look feels heavy and charged. Every secret brush of our fingers feels loaded with meaning. Every time she’s in my office for something routine, it feels forbidden.
“Professor Wyles, a moment please?”
Amelia’s eyes widen and she busies herself with her bag as I snap my head around at the sound of Dean Miller’s voice and internally wince. It’s a sudden, stark reminder that not everything is fun and that what we’re doing has real and potentially damaging consequences if we’re not careful.
He strides into my classroom, chest puffed out like he’s the ruler of the damn universe or something. He’s wearing a suit and tie and looks completely out of place for the halls of a computer science graduate school where the dress code is more,whatever you rolled out of bed in because you were probably up all night coding. I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that this man wouldn’t know JavaScript from Python with a gun to his head, but I’ve never been able to prove it. He’s the absolute definition of a mediocre white man.
“You stay, too, Ms. Sullivan.”
Amelia freezes in her attempt to make it to the classroom door unnoticed and spins around, the look on her face so casual you would think she was entirely unbothered by Dean Miller’s request, if not for the way she grips her mug so tightly her fingers turn white. “Good to see you, Dean Miller. What can I do for you?”
The dean looks back and forth between the two of us, pausing in a way I’m sure is meant to intimidate. Finally, his gaze lands on me. “I saw that you are Ms. Sullivan’s research advisor.”
I cross my arms and stand to my full height, which is several inches taller than him. A better man wouldn’t get satisfaction from that, but right now, I am not a better man. “I am.”
He nods, turning to Amelia. “And are you finding Professor Wyles’ advisory methods satisfactory?”
I’m sure the dean misses the unholy gleam in Amelia’s eyes that disappears as quickly as it appears, but I sure don’t. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “I’m sure you’re aware that Professor Wyles is really quite brilliant, and his advisory methods are more than satisfactory. One could even say they are exceptional. The very best I’ve ever experienced.” Her eyes dart to mine quickly, and I see the smirk she doesn’t give me.
Little hellion.
My brain immediately goes to some really, really filthy places that absolutely don’t belong in my classroom when the dean is standing right in front of me.
Dean Miller nods. “I’m happy to hear that.” Then he turns to me. “Professor Wyles, I’m not sure you are aware, but Ms. Sullivan is an extremely important member of this institution. You should consider your role as her advisor to be your top priority. I trust that you won’t do anything that would get in the way of your ability to advise her through her PhD program or jeopardize her standing at MassTech. Or your own. If that happens, there will obviously be consequences.”
“Never, Dean Miller,” I manage, trying to keep my gaze off Amelia, who I can see without even looking has flipped from bratty to rage-filled in two seconds flat.
“Good.” He nods, and with one final glance between the two of us, he turns and strides out of the classroom to, I’m sure, go ruin someone else’s day. Asshole.
The second he disappears out the door, Amelia’s mouth opens, but I put a hand on her arm before she can speak. “Not here, Ames.”
