Professor, page 4
I picked it up and stared down at it. There were three texts from Sherry, as well as two missed calls.
“Shit,” I muttered. I was pretty sure I’d forgotten to call her last night once I’d gotten to Professor Goode’s house.
I’m so sorry. I forgot to call you last night and ended up crashing.
Sherry: You worried the shit out of me, Gracie!
After Professor Goode had gotten me into bed, everything else had gone dark. I’d fallen asleep right away, and now regretted making Sherry worry.
I’ll call you as soon as I don’t feel like my head’s going to explode.
Sherry: You better.
The last thing I needed to do was call her while at his house and have her overhear him say something. God, was I really at my professor’s house?
I set my phone down and scrubbed my hand over my face. I wanted to shower, to get the club vibe off my body, and I needed to drink about a gallon of water to flush the rest of this lingering alcohol out.
Then I heard footsteps. I turned toward the door quickly, feeling my eyes widen and my heart race. I darted toward the bed and pulled off the blanket, wrapping it around my lower half. And then I just stood there, time seeming to go by painfully slowly as I waited for him to come in.
He knocked on the door but didn’t open it. I swallowed roughly and looked around, not exactly sure what I was searching for.
“Grace?” His voice was deep and clear, coming through the door and having my body reacting instantly.
I shivered and cleared my throat, telling myself to grow up and get myself under control.
“Come in.” My voice was high-pitched, and I cleared my throat again. He pushed the door open, and I swore time stood still.
Of course, he was put together and looking sexy as hell. He wore a pair of dark slacks and a white button-down dress shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants. His dark belt was cinched around his waist, showing how lean he was yet muscular at the same time. His shirt was formfitting enough that I could see the outline of his biceps, even the definition of his pectoral muscles.
God, he looked incredible, and I probably looked like I’d crawled out of a grave.
For a second we just stood there, neither one of us speaking, the awkwardness strong within me. I had to give him credit; he didn’t look at me like I was insane wrapped up in a blanket.
I tightened my hands on the blanket, pulling the material around me even more. “I woke up with no pants on,” I blurted out. It wasn’t an accusation, more out of curiosity on what the hell had happened.
He lifted a dark brow, and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “You were fully clothed when I put you to bed.”
I felt my cheeks heat after he spoke. I looked around the room again, my gaze darting to the floor. And then I finally saw my pants tossed in the corner in a heap of material.
“Do you always shed certain pieces of clothing when you’ve been drinking?” There was amusement in his voice.
My face was on fire, and I glanced at him but quickly looked at the floor, humiliated. “Apparently.”
He didn’t say anything for long moments, and when I looked back at him, his face was stoic once more. “Well, if you get dressed and come into the kitchen, I’ll make you some breakfast.”
The very thought of eating turned my stomach, but he looked like he was unwilling to budge on this.
I nodded once, feeling his gaze on me even though I wasn’t looking at him. After a moment I heard him leave, shutting the door behind him. I exhaled slowly.
I didn’t know what in the hell I’d gotten myself into, but this was quite possibly the worst situation I’d ever been in, not to mention highly inappropriate.
He was my professor. I was his student.
But then again, I was also in love with him.
10
Grace
Twenty minutes later I was dressed, had found the bathroom and washed my face, rinsed out my mouth, and attempted to finger comb my hair into a semblance of control.
I made my way into the kitchen, the sound of dishes clanging together seeming overly loud for my hungover state.
I rounded the corner and stopped when I saw him standing by the stove. He had his shirtsleeves pushed up, his toned, tanned forearms on display. I clenched my thighs together as desire pooled between them.
Rubbing my hands down my legs, I felt so nervous, so awkward, and definitely out of place. As if he sensed me, he looked over his shoulder and smiled.
“Have a seat, Grace.”
The way he said my name, all deep and husky-like, shouldn’t have had me instantly aroused.
I pulled the chair out, the feet scraping along the floor, causing me to wince at how awkwardly loud it was. I sat and looked at the spread.
The table was set for two, with a bowl of fresh fruit in the center, a carafe of orange juice beside it, an empty coffee mug in front of me, a full one at the other place setting, and a gleaming silver fork placed on a pristine white linen napkin to my left.
This all seemed so … domestic.
“Professor Goode, I want to apologize. This is really embarrassing for me—”
“Call me Lucian.” He turned from the stove and walked over to me, holding a frying pan in one hand and a wooden spatula in the other. He scooped out the omelet and set it on the plate in front of me. I watched as he moved back to the stove and made another one.
For long minutes I just sat there, not sure how to act.
I swallowed, my throat so dry, my stomach tightening. I really wasn’t hungry, yet when I looked up at him, about to say that, the expression he gave me had me keeping that thought to myself.
He looked stern, as if he dared me to tell him I wasn’t eating.
Once he had his omelet plated and the pan back on the stove, he grabbed a glass from the cupboard. He filled it with water, came back to the table, and set the glass in front of me. My throat was so dry.
I gave him a grateful smile before reaching out and taking it, downing half of it before coming up for air.
He didn’t say anything as he leaned back in the chair and reached for his coffee mug. I could see steam rising above it, and I stared at him as he took a long sip while he watched me.
He set the mug down but stayed silent for a second. “You should eat something. You’ll feel better.”
I looked down at the plate. “Everything looks delicious, but my hangover is making my appetite next to none.” He stood after a second and went over the cupboard, reaching in for a bottle of what I thought was aspirin.
He came back over and opened it, pouring out a couple of pills into his palm, and handing them over to me.
“Thank you,” I said softly and took the pills, popping them in my mouth and washing them down with the rest of the water.
When he sat back down across from me, his focus was trained on me, his stare making me feel exposed in all the right ways.
“Just try and eat something.” He picked up his fork and started eating his omelet. The clank of the silverware on the plates spurred me to pick up mine and start eating as well.
Although I really wasn’t hungry, I knew that putting something in my stomach might go a long way in helping me.
He poured me a glass of orange juice, and we sat and finished our meal in silence. It was awkward, and I felt a little uncomfortable given the fact he was my professor, but I figured he’d seen me at my worst, so from this point on it could only get better, right?
When I was finished eating as much as I could, I pushed my plate away slightly, reached for my glass of orange juice and finished it off. I felt him staring at me and looked up from underneath my lashes.
God, it should be illegal for a man to look that good, especially this early in the morning. He leaned back in the chair, one arm braced over it, the other resting on the table. He had his fingers wrapped around his coffee mug, the digits moving up and down slowly over the ceramic. It shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was.
“You didn’t ask me many questions last night,” he finally said, his voice this baritone timbre that had me clenching my thighs together.
I’d never been this close to him before, the setting so intimate that it almost felt as if we were a … couple. I’d slept in his bed, and he’d made me breakfast. It all seemed so personal.
I nodded once although I didn’t know what I was agreeing to. I did remember last night, but it was a little bit hazy.
“I probably shouldn’t be admitting this, but I got drunk off one drink.” I felt my cheeks heat and chanced a full look up at him. “Although in my defense it was a pretty strong drink, maybe even a couple in one.” God, this was mortifying.
I cleared my throat and looked around, knowing that what I needed to do was get out of here. I needed to go home, finish sleeping off this hangover, and then maybe move to a different town, enroll in a different school. I could’ve snorted at my thoughts. I had to face this head-on. I couldn’t run from my problems or embarrassment.
I thought about all the things I should’ve asked him last night, things that had come to mind, but I hadn’t cared about knowing the answers at the time. Even though right now I still didn’t care because the pounding behind my head was taking priority, this might be the only chance I really got to ask them.
“Why were you at the club?”
He brought his cup to his mouth and took another long sip before setting it down and exhaling slowly. “I was there because of you.”
I felt my heart literally stop in my chest. I gripped the edge of my chair, my nails digging against the wood. I heard him clearly, but I wasn’t sure if I knew what he actually meant.
“You were there because of me?” I licked my lips and took a deep breath in. “What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer for several seconds, but the way he watched me was almost intense, as if he were studying my reaction to his words.
“It means exactly what it means.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands together on top of the table, his forearms parallel with each other. He looked me directly in the eyes. “I overheard you talking about going there, about what time you’d be there, when I was at the coffee shop. So I followed you, Grace. I can only imagine what happens at clubs, and I was right. I was there because of you, because I wanted to protect you.”
I shook my head slowly but didn’t know why I was doing that. This was actually happening? Professor Goode, Lucian, had stalked me? That should’ve terrified me, yet I found myself warming. The very idea that he’d gone to those lengths to be close to me, to think he was protecting me, had arousal moving through my veins in an almost twisted manner.
“I don’t think that’s normal,” I whispered, although the words seemed foreign to me.
“It’s very normal when it comes to my need for you, my desire, Grace.”
I felt my eyes widen and leaned back a little bit, the chair creaking from my shift. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to react. This had been what I’d fantasized about but never thought I’d have as my reality.
I was in love with Professor Goode, yet could I ever actually admit that?
I didn’t know how to handle his words, his admission.
“And when you were at the coffee shop and overheard me and Sherry … were you there by chance?”
He stared at me for a second before finally shaking his head. I felt my heart race.
“I’ve wanted you for a long time, Grace, since the very first moment I saw you step into my class with that clear lip gloss on your red lips, wearing that little sundress, and your hair piled in a messy bun.”
The way he spoke was as if he envisioned that very day right now.
“I remember there was perspiration on your temple, and how much I wanted to run my fingers along those beads.”
I felt like I was sweating now, from what he said, how he watched me. Was this really happening?
“Yes, Grace. It’s really happening.” I hadn’t realized I’d said those words out loud. He reached out, and I was frozen in place as he brushed a strand of hair away from my shoulder, his fingers lingering on my cheek. “And now that I’ve admitted how I feel, now that you know the truth … I’m not about to let you go.”
11
Professor Goode
She’d been extremely quiet since I told her how I felt in my kitchen, and although I wanted her to talk to me, I also knew pushing her would only drive her further away.
Grace desired me as well. I could see that in the way she looked at me, in the way she bit her lip when she thought I didn’t notice her glances. But maybe I’d misjudged the situation and told her this far too fast?
She’d been discombobulated with being at my home, me being at the club. And then I dropped it in her lap that I wanted her, that I’d pretty much stalked her to protect her.
Grace would come to understand that I did it all for her.
I pulled to a stop in front of her small bungalow and put the car in park. I kept my hands on the steering wheel as I looked over at her. She was biting her lip, nervous, maybe not knowing what to say, how to react.
“Grace?” I said softly.
She glanced over at me then and gave me a shy smile. “Thank you again for … everything.” It was clear she was uncomfortable, trying to escape as quickly as possible.
She opened the car door and was about to get out, but I reached over the seat and curled my hand gently around hers, stopping her from exiting. She looked over at me, her nerves tangible.
“I know what I said was a lot to take in, but I meant every word. I’m not going to walk away, Grace.” I smoothed my thumb over the top of her hand, her skin so soft, electricity moving up the digits and through my entire body. “I know you feel the same way, to an extent.” My obsession with her was consuming, maddening. “And you don’t have to admit that right now, but you will have to eventually, Grace.” I leaned in just an inch, but there was still a good bit of space that separated us. I didn’t like that. “You’ll have to admit it to yourself, and then to me, because I’m not walking away. I’m not giving you up.” There was determination in my voice, hard resolve. “The sooner you realize that, the easier this will all be, the easier it will be to accept.”
She licked her lips, and I lowered my gaze to watch the act, my heart racing and my body coming alive from, from her close proximity.
“I know,” she said, her voice soft, utterly feminine.
I should’ve let go of her hand, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead I pushed even more, knowing what I was about to ask her could very well have her drawing into herself, distancing herself from me. This was so inappropriate, desiring my student, admitting that she was mine, but fuck logistics and rules.
“Let me take you to dinner, Grace. Let me show you how it can be with us, how much I mean everything I said.”
I could see how rapidly her pulse was beating beneath her ear, wanted to soothe her, let her know that there was nothing to be nervous about. I was here for her, in this for her.
Now that I had finally opened myself up, allowed my emotions and feelings to come forth, a physical declaration of what she meant to me, there was no stopping it. There was no turning back.
“Let me take you out,” I said again, lower, gentler.
“Okay,” she all but whispered.
Pleasure surged within me at her acceptance.
I held my hand out. “Let me see your phone.” I was trying to be gentle, not so demanding. She didn’t hesitate as she handed her cell over. I punched in my number and handed it back to her. I didn’t bother telling her I already had her number, that being a professor at the university gave me access to student files. I didn’t tell her because I knew how it would sound.
“Now you have direct access to me,” I said, and knowing she could contact me privately at any given time had me feeling even more possessive.
She didn’t say anything as she messed with her phone, and a second later I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I knew without looking at it that she’d sent me a text … so I’d have her number as well.
“Now you have mine,” she said softly.
I smiled, wanting to touch her, to run my fingers over her soft skin, to part her lips and slip my thumb between them and make her taste me. God, she drove me wild and all she had to do was sit there.
I knew I could come off as hardened, apathetic even. But when it came to Grace, she held all the cards, even if she didn’t know it.
When it came to her, I was putty in her hands.
* * *
Grace
I shut my bedroom door, leaned against it, closed my eyes, and rested my head back on the wood. As soon as I’d gotten home, I’d guzzled a gallon of water and headed straight to the shower. I’d hoped the heat and steam would help me feel a little better, but being so unused to drinking had really kicked my ass.
My heart was thundering, and my headache was still going strong.
All I could do was keep replaying everything Lucian had told me. God, it sounded so weird saying his name. He’d always just been Professor Goode to me, and those two words put together, spilling from my mouth, felt right.
Saying his first name felt extremely personal, erotically intimate, as if we were closer than we really were. But then again that’s exactly what he wanted.
All the things he’d told me had been crystal clear. He wanted me as his, only his and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not that I would’ve declined.
I was just confused, overwhelmed. I wanted him, had for longer than I could even admit.
Although all I wanted to do was go to sleep, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Sherry’s number. I’d worried her enough for one day.
She picked up on the first ring, and her sharp exhale told me I’d pissed her off. I couldn’t blame her though.
“Hey,” I said a little shyly. I sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off my shoes, moving my toes around and closing my eyes.
