Professor Read online

  “Okay,” she said in surrender and leaned back in her chair. “How about drinks later tonight?” And just like that the subject was changed.

  Movement out of the corner of my eye had me looking to the right. My mouth instantly went dry, my stomach twisting. I watched as Professor Goode walked in, his dark brown leather satchel over one shoulder, a stack of papers in his hand. His black hair hung over his forehead and off to the side, as if he’d run his fingers through it, pushing it aside.

  He had this hard look on his face, a stern expression. But I’d become used to it, come to realize that was just him.

  And that was one of the reasons I’d fallen so hard for him. He was unmoving, like a mountain, like steel. Hard and unapologetic, Professor Goode was as smart as he was unyielding.

  It was all those qualities that drew me to him, that had me thinking of—fantasizing—about no one else. It was him. Only him.

  I couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop watching as he stalked into the library and headed back to one of the empty tables. It was as if he commanded the room, filled it with this arctic air that had goose bumps forming on my arms, my hair standing on end.

  And then he lifted his head and turned and looked right at me, our gazes clashing, the feeling of my eyes widening giving away how I actually felt.

  Bared and vulnerable, as if I were looking into the eyes of a ferocious beast, of a predator about to pounce.

  But the thing was … I wanted to be his prey.

  The way he looked at me was calculated. It was as if time slowed, as if there was no one else in the library aside from the two of us. I felt this tether between us, pulling me closer to him, as if he were my lifeline. It was such a consuming feeling, one that confused me as much as it frightened and aroused me.

  “So, drinks?” Sherry asked, breaking through the granite-like hold I had with Professor Goode.

  With Lucian.

  I looked over at Sherry, thankful she was busy looking down at her phone, not realizing who I’d been staring at, how intently I’d been watching him.

  And although he’d stared at me as well, I felt like it was an innocent glance, one done in passing. I was the one who couldn’t have looked away, who felt my heart dropping into my stomach.

  “Earth to Gracie.”

  I blinked a few times, my vision focusing as I stared at Sherry. She watched me, one of her dark, perfectly arched eyebrows lifted.

  “Drinks, are you up for them tonight?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I have to work until six, but after that I’m free.”

  Sherry smiled. “How about you meet me at the Olive?”

  I nodded and found myself looking at where Professor Goode was seated. My heart jumped into my throat as I saw him watching me, his gaze focused, as if he commanded me.

  “The Olive. Six. Sounds good.” I muttered those words, and when I looked back at Sherry, I could see a curious expression on her face. But she didn’t probe for more information.

  And I was thankful for that because I didn’t know how I would explain my fixation with Professor Goode.

  * * *

  Professor Goode

  I should’ve been more discrete, hiding my affection, my obsession for Grace. But I couldn’t help myself, certainly not when she was so close.

  She was this addiction I had, one that made my heart race, my mouth dry, and my hands shake. A withdrawal that I didn’t know if I’d survive, because I knew the only cure for it was her.

  I watched as she left the library, pleased when she kept glancing over at me. She kept biting her lip, pulling at the red, plump flesh with her straight little white teeth. It’s a good thing I was sitting behind the desk because my cock was harder than a rock, pressing against the zipper of my slacks, demanding to be free.

  The obscene things I thought about doing to her had me feeling primal, feral. She was so innocent, though, so vulnerable.

  But her innocence only fueled my need for her, had me craving her even more.

  I wanted to be the one to corrupt her, to show her exactly how good it could feel, how good I could make her feel.

  And I would make that a reality, because the alternative wasn’t an option.

  4

  Grace

  I made a latte, poured it into a to-go cup, put the lid on top, and handed it off.

  Monotonous actions that sucked up the time and had me earning minimum wage.

  If I were being honest, I hated making coffee; hell, I didn’t even drink it. But being a college student meant I couldn’t be picky on what job I landed. I didn’t have a lot of time for anything else, not with my full-time studies.

  And although I was covered with student housing, and money my parents had saved up for me over the years, I still had to make money. Maybe not to live off of during school, but for my own integrity and mental well-being.

  So, I worked at the coffee shop on campus a couple days a week, making cappuccinos and lattes and wrapping up croissants and egg sandwiches. I rang up the customer, handed them their double-shot espresso, and helped the next one.

  The same thing, just a different day.

  The coffee shop on campus was continuously busy, mainly with students coming in to hang out and study as they drank their five-dollar coffees and ate their three-dollar pastries.

  “What can I make for you?” I said and looked up from the register only to feel my eyes widen as Professor Goode stood on the other side of the counter.

  He wore a dark blazer, and underneath that a white Oxford button-down shirt, which was a crisp, stark contrast to his jacket. Being so close to him really amplified how much bigger he was than me, with his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

  He was tall and lean, like an Olympic swimmer, raw power underneath golden skin.

  I stared into his dark eyes, like pieces of coal that could start a fire … and I was the one who would burn alive from it.

  I stood there for long seconds not speaking, and it was only when I heard the froth from the cappuccino machine start to work that I snapped out of my haze. “Professor Goode,” I finally said, finding my voice, although it was shaky, unsteady.

  “Miss Hart.”

  I swore fireworks went off inside of me.

  “How’s your paper coming along?”

  I licked my lips and nodded. “Good.” Although that was a lie. I hadn’t even started it. He smiled, just the corner of his mouth tilting up as if he knew I was lying.

  “Good. I look forward to reading it.”

  I gave him an awkward smile. I could feel how uncomfortable it was, my own nerves making me act like a freak right now. “What can I get for you?” Being professional when all I wanted to do was wrap my body around his, was like living in literal hell.

  “Just a black coffee.”

  Not a man who likes the fancy, frilly drinks. I liked that about him. And the fact he was drinking a strong brew this late in the afternoon made me wonder if he had a lot of work to do. He was a busy man, I could tell by the work he did around the campus, and the fact he had everything prepared for our class well in advance. But that drew me to him more.

  He had his shit together.

  I gave him one more lingering look before turning and getting his order. I felt his stare on me the whole time, as if he reached out and stroked his fingers along my body.

  I swore it took me ages to get his order. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. When I finally turned back around, he was off to the side, another barista handling the register.

  “I’m sorry for the holdup,” I said and handed over his coffee. When he reached for it, his fingers brushed along mine and I felt my mouth part as a small sound escaped me from that slight contact. Yet he looked unaffected.

  Of course, he did. I knew it was all one-sided.

  “It’s fine,” he said and offered a smile, but even when he appeared easygoing, I could see this hardness to him.

  “Gracie!”

  The sound of Sherry shouting over the crowd of people drew me out of my mesmerized focus on Professor Goode. I turned and faced her, seeing her make her way toward me with a mystery guy in tow.

  I could see Professor Goode step back, and a part of me wanted to reach out to him.

  Crazy, that’s what I was.

  Sherry came up to the counter with a huge grin on her face. I looked at the guy standing behind her. He looked like a jock, one still living in his old glory days as he sported his high school letterman jacket.

  “Hey, girl,” she said and turned around to reach for the guy. I recognized him then, remembering him from the library. “This is Craig. He’s going to the Olive with us tonight.”

  I nodded, but I was very aware that Professor Goode was still standing off to the side, could feel him watching me.

  I turned and started making her a double latte, knowing that’s the only reason she came into the hipster coffee shop.

  I turned and handed it over, and she held out some money without looking at me. I shook my head at how invested she was with this new guy. After ringing her up and handing the change to her, I chanced a look at the professor. He stood off to the side, taking a sip of his coffee as he watched me over the rim.

  “Listen, we’re picking up something to eat before we head over there. Figure I should have a full stomach before I start pounding down the drinks.” Letterman Craig leaned in and said something in her ear. She giggled and playfully smacked him. “You’re dirty, aren’t you?” Sherry faced me and grinned. “Don’t be late. The Olive tonight at six,” she said as she made her way out the door.

  I turned to where Professor Goode stood, but was greeted with an empty spot. I looked around the coffee shop, disappointed he was gone, but then felt ridiculous for thinking he’d stay just for me.

&n
bsp; I swore the way he looked at me, the way he’d watched me, hadn’t just been all in my head. His expression had screamed one thing … arousal.

  * * *

  Professor Goode

  The thought of her going to the Olive had every protective worry in me rising. All I could think about was men looking at her, trying to touch her, take advantage of her.

  It had me nervous, possessive. It had me wanting to take her back to my place and keep her safe, keep her away from all the shit the world would throw at her.

  I was the only one who could keep her safe, and I planned on doing just that.

  I stared at her through the coffee shop window, pleased when I noticed she’d looked back at where I’d been standing, that she was searching me out. The disappointment on her face was tangible. I wanted to move my finger between her eyes and smooth away the worry settled between them.

  Her desire for me was clear, and that pleased me immensely. And it was because of the way she looked at me, the fact she wanted me, that I was resolved to take things further.

  I had to, because not having Grace as mine was physically painful, and not something I was about to entertain anymore.

  If she was going out tonight, then I would too. No man would touch her but me.

  5

  Grace

  I had no idea why I’d agreed to come with Sherry to the Olive. It was so not my scene. And as I stood beside her, the lights flashing, the music earsplitting, and the crush of bodies all around us, I just wanted to go home and curl up on my bed with a good book.

  Sherry took my hand and led me toward the bar. I wasn’t even twenty-one yet and had the big black X marked on the back of my hand to advertise that. But Sherry was old enough to buy alcohol, and I knew she’d get me a drink discreetly, because she was the type of person who didn’t want to drink alone.

  She let go of my hand before we reached the bar and gave me a look that said, Stay there so we don’t get caught. I hadn’t seen Letterman Craig yet, but I assumed he was somewhere around here. He’d been pretty enamored with Sherry at the coffee shop.

  Which meant he wanted in her pants.

  I could see Sherry leaning against the bar, a seductive smile in place as she ordered our drinks. I turned away from her and scanned the interior of the club. It was exactly what you’d expect from a nightclub, with the annoying decor, the dim lights, and the atmosphere of sex permeating the air.

  I felt like I was grossly overdressed, too, as if I were attending church or going to the library. I had on a pair of formfitting pants, and my top was a cardigan set, a powder-pink color that had a cashmere feel to it without the price tag.

  As I looked at all the women at the club, I realized I was wearing way too many clothes. I didn’t have enough skin showing to fit in, to blend in with the others. I probably stuck out like a sore thumb.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Letterman Craig standing there. He’d gotten rid of his jacket and now had his hair slicked back and wore a shirt that was a little too tight, which I assumed was to show off his muscles. He wasn’t bad looking, but he had an air of arrogance that surrounded him that was a total turnoff.

  No doubt he was a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy, and Sherry was his latest conquest. But what he didn’t know was that she was a shark when it came to what she wanted. What he didn’t understand was that she was the one using him.

  He said something, but I couldn’t hear over the rush of music. His mouth moved, his eyes glossy. He’d already been drinking; that was clear by the way he looked and the smell of alcohol that came from him. I shrugged and shook my head, telling him without words I couldn’t hear him. He leaned in close to my ear.

  “You seen Sherry? I headed to the bathroom but lost her in the crowd,” he said loudly and pulled back.

  I gestured over to the bar, and he grinned, giving me a wink before leaving me standing there and heading over to her.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist when he was right behind her, and she looked over her shoulder, grinning that sexual smile I’d seen a hundred times before. She knew she was hot and could get any guy, and she used that to her advantage. I wished I had her confidence, her prowess.

  A moment later they were coming back over to me and gesturing for me to follow. We headed to the back and lucked out when we spied an empty table. Keeping my back to the crowd, I grabbed the drink she handed me and took a sip. It was strong, so much so that my eyes watered.

  I coughed and sputtered, staring at her and watching as she laughed.

  “Figured if you were gonna get an underage drink, might as well make it a Long Island Iced Tea.” She grinned again and leaned against her newest boy toy. “Suck it down, Gracie. I don’t want us to get caught.”

  I inhaled deeply and brought the straw to my mouth, drinking it fast, the burn settling right in the pit of my stomach. When I was finished, I wheezed out, my eyes watering fiercely, the alcohol immediately going to my head. She pulled the glass toward her so it looked like she’d been drinking it.

  “How old are you anyway?” Letterman Craig said, his arm wrapped around Sherry, his other hand underneath the table and suspiciously close to her. I could only imagine what they were doing, what he was doing to her.

  “I’m twenty.”

  He nodded, but it was clear he wasn’t paying attention to me.

  Sherry said something in his ear that had an aroused look crossing his face. And then he turned and started kissing her.

  God.

  I scrunched my nose, immediately feeling uncomfortable watching them make out, so I turned away to face the club.

  I was so not an extrovert, and that was obscenely clear as I watched all these people dancing. The music was starting to give me a headache, or maybe it was the rush of alcohol through my veins. I was already buzzed, the liquor slowly climbing through my body.

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. Beads of perspiration dotted my skin. My heart felt like it was racing, and my face felt like it was on fire. Drinking always made my face red, and judging by how hot it felt, I’d already gotten to that level.

  “Sherry, maybe I should go.” I looked over my shoulder at her and saw she was all but on top of her date. “I’m not feeling the best. That drink went right to my head.” She broke the kiss and looked over at me.

  “What?” she shouted, her brows knitted.

  “I’m not feeling so well. That drink was strong,” I shouted back.

  She gave me that look a parent gave a child. “You didn’t eat before coming, did you?”

  Did a croissant from the coffee shop count?

  I shrugged.

  She shook her head. “Want me to take you home?”

  Letterman Craig gripped her chin and attempted to turn her head for another kiss, but she pushed his hand away, her attention focused on me. “We can head out if you’re not feeling the best.”

  I hadn’t even been here that long and already I was ruining her night. Of course, she didn’t say that, and I wasn’t getting that vibe from her, but she was having a good time. “I’ll be fine. I’ll wave down a server and get some water.”

  “You sure?”

  I nodded and smiled. “I’m good.” I could tough this out. Her look was skeptical. “Seriously. I’m fine.” I gave her a thumbs-up and immediately felt like an idiot. She laughed and went back to kissing Craig.

  I just needed some cold water. As if my prayers were answered, a waitress walked by. After ordering some water, getting the glass, and chugging half of it, I felt a little better and not so hot.

  It was only a matter of minutes since I’d sucked down the drink, but already I was feeling the alcohol do its job. I was a cheap date, that was for sure. That one drink, especially for as strong as Sherry had gotten it, would no doubt have me buzzed for a good while.

  And even though I’d said I was fine, the thought of leaving and going home to curl up in bed sounded pretty damn good right about now.