She slowly grabs it from me, as if she thinks I’ll change my mind and pull it away from her. Her eyes first catch on the grade written at the top in red pen.
“A ninety-four?” she gasps. At first, I think she’s upset that I didn’t give her a perfect score, but that ugly thought quickly fades as she starts jumping around again. “IknewI killed this paper. I told you I did!” Her joy is infectious, and I have the urge to hop around with her. She throws herself into my arms andkisses me. Before I can pull her tighter against me or deepen the kiss, she darts away, waving the paper. “I’m gonna look over the rest of this!” she hollers over her shoulder as she dashes for the bedroom.
“Okay,” I call after her. “I’ll just order a pizza?”
“Iknewyou’d love that line!” is the only response she offers, and she can’t see it, but it earns another grin from me.
25
SUMMER
Dating my professor—while I recognize it is problematic—is incredibly hot.
Asher stands at the front of the classroom, collecting assignments as students slowly bring them up to him. He’s wearing a dark green button-up that matches his eyes perfectly, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, of course. His black slacks hug him in all the right places. I try my best to covertly check out his ass, but Sam definitely catches me.
Asher’s dark hair is mussed, and my fingers itch to style it back into place. A light shadowing of stubble runs across his jaw—seeing him with a slight smattering of facial hair has me fantasizing about what it would feel like against my cheeks, my neck… my thighs.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the sinful thoughts that keep popping into my mind. But it’s hard when your partner looks like Asher Stirling.
I tap my pencil against my desk, mulling over a devious plan I’ve had all morning, and decide to follow through.
I shoot off the text that’s been sitting in our text thread unsent, and pocket my phone, waiting to see if he’ll open it now or later.
He finishes speaking to a student before pulling his phone from the back pocket of his slacks. I watch him read the message, and his face darkens. His gaze darts up to me, and his jaw clenches. He places his phone face down on his desk and starts organizing the papers that other students have already turned in.
I slowly rise to my feet and make my way toward the front of the classroom. I hand over the assignment, and his fingers gently graze mine as he takes it from me. I turn on my heel—and okay, maybe there’s an extra swing to my hips as I walk away.
“Ms. Nyx,” he says without looking up as I sit back down at my desk. “Please see me after class.”
Sam and Matt both look at me, Sam with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow and Matt with furrowed brows of confusion. I shrug before plopping back in my seat as though I haven’t the slightest clue as to why our professor would need to speak with me.
Asher’s calm demeanor belies his impatience. He still hasn’t looked at me, but there’s a tenseness in his shoulders that shows how affected he is by my message. Butterflies erupt in my stomach. I have never been excited when a teacher says they need to see me after class.
But being punished doesn’t sound half bad.
I wait patientlyat my desk for everyone to leave before rising to my feet. He glares at me as he raises his phone. “I’m not wearing any underwear?” he hisses.
I shrug. “I thought maybe that was something you’d like to know.”
He tosses the phone on his desk before leaning against the dark wood and crossing his arms. “Did you get off on that?” He smirks. “Watching me open that text inclass?”
“Maybe,” I murmur. I start slowly making my way toward the door, but he stops me with a growl. I freeze.
“If you walk away now,” he warns. “I’m going to have to chase you.”
I have half a mind to run, just to see if he’ll follow through with his threat, but the opportunity disappears when he slams the classroom door shut, clicks the lock into place, and makes his way to me in three quick strides.
My thighs clench together as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms. Lust and desire seem to roll off of him in waves. My knees tremble with impatience, and I feel flushed by all the attention he’s giving me. His gaze rakes over my body, slowing at the bare skin of my legs and settling on my lips.
“Didn’t I ask,” he starts in a low grumble. “That you stop wearing these ridiculously short skirts in my class?”
“They make me feel invincible,” I whisper, as I take a step back, a mischievous grin plastered across my face. His hand shoots out and grips my throat, not hard, but squeezing justslightly to let me know he wants to be in control. My pulse thrums excitedly against his fingers.
“I told you what would happen if you tried to run.” His voice is low and smooth, like velvet sliding over bare skin in a dimly lit room. A breathy giggle escapes my lips, and his pupils dilate. His eyes are the color of new leaves, after spring’s first rain, bright and impossibly alive.
He pulls me over to his desk and pushes me up against it, his hand never leaving my neck. “What now?” I tease, daring him.
“Now, you stop being a brat and listen to me,” he commands. “Turn around.”
