Page 82 of She’s Worth the Risk

“Of course,” I say, stepping back.

I glance around the empty lecture hall as I wait, thinking of Nick’s classes. Of how strange it is to be back in this room without him. I wonder what he’s doing now, if he’s in his office. I’m dying to talk to him about class… maybe I could swing by after this? We discussed being careful, especially on campus, but there’s nothing wrong with a student visiting her former professor, is there?

Professor Webber wraps up her call, and when I glance back, her face has gone a ghostly white. Concern tugs at me.

“Are you okay?”

“I have to…” She shakes her head, gathering her things with shaking hands. “I have to go. Sorry.” And with that, she rushes from the lecture hall.

Shit, that can’t be good.

With a sigh, I head out. I shouldn’t visit Nick, but that doesn’t stop my feet from taking me toward his office. Besides, I’m buzzing from class and eager to get more texts on the topics we covered. Nick will definitely be able to recommend some. But as I arrive at his office and knock, I know that’s not the real reason I’m here.

“Yes?” he calls through the door, and my heart jumps. I push the door open, sticking my head in.

“Professor Sweetman,” I say in my most neutral tone, despite the fact that he’s looking especially delicious in that tweed jacket, those sexy glasses on his nose, the loose waves of his hair all mussed. “Do you have a minute?”

“Miss Sinclair…” He hesitates, glancing over my shoulder. “What are you doing here?” He gives me a pointed look, adding, “You’re not my student anymore.”

I wince. He’s right. This was a bad idea.

Wavering, I glance along the hall. A student is speaking with another professor a few doors down, and when I think about turning to leave, that feels even more suspicious. I have no choice but to lean into it.

“I know,” I say, laughing lightly as I turn back to Nick, “but I wanted to stop by after my class with Professor Webber. We covered a lot of similar topics as your class, and I wondered if you had any recommendations for further reading.”

“I suggest you ask Professor Webber,” he says evenly.

I grimace. “Well, I tried, but she had to leave. I’ll just…” I shake my head, face warm. “I’ll wait until next class. Sorry to bother you.”

But as I turn to go, Nick says, “What kind of further reading?”

“Oh, well…” I hold up my textbooks. “I have these, but I’m looking for more on the power dynamics between artists and their patrons.”

Nick’s eyes glitter. “Power dynamics?”

“Yes. Professor Webber was explaining how the relationship between patrons and artists shaped the art of the time, and I found it so interesting, because we usually think of art as self-expression by the artist, right? But it was so different back then…” I trail off, realizing I’m rambling, and give him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

I expect him to rattle off some obscure title and wave me away, but he doesn’t. Instead, something dark ignites in his gaze, and he leans back in his chair.

“Come in,” he says at last, his voice low and gravelly. “And shut the door.”

32

NICK

The door clicks shut behind Zinnia. I take in her beaming smile, the way she’s glowing with excitement, and a smile of my own slides onto my lips.

“So class was good, huh?”

“It was great,” she gushes. “I’m so inspired. I never knew how much the power structures influenced art at that time, and it’s so interesting.”

My fingers tingle at my side, and I push my chair away from my desk. I know I shouldn’t do anything—shouldn’t even have her in here, let alone touch her—but seeing her so enthusiastic after her class, so goddamn effervescent, makes me powerless to resist.

“Come here,” I say thickly.

She huffs out a breath, letting her bag slide to the floor, then crosses to me, perching on the edge of my desk. She’s in that same orange wrap dress she wore to my house the night we got together, and the memory of it has my dick stirring in my pants.

“You shouldn’t have come to my office,” I tell her. Or maybe I’m telling myself.