Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 34941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
The unfinished Romeo and Juliet essay is screaming at me. It's the most important assignment I have left, but I know that if I open it and start to work on it, I'm going to be mentally sent back to that couch with Professor Nolan and the way I really think he was about to kiss me before his son interrupted us. So instead, I open the next assignment.
I have a graphic design project due tomorrow, and while the work isn't difficult, it requires a lot of concentration. After an hour of work, I've managed to get lost in the creative process and forget all about Nathan. But as soon as I close the computer and lie back on my pillow, exhausted despite the early evening hour, he's back in my mind all over again, and the need is pulsing in my core like it never left.
Frustrated to the point of breaking, I retrieve the pillow from the floor but not to sleep. With no other outlet, I cover my face with it and, this time, scream my heart out.
3
NATHAN
Today is cooler, but my blood is just as hot.
It's the second English 101 class of the week, and just like before, Noelle is perched at her desk, looking like the most gorgeous, most fuckable thing on the planet. Unfortunately for me, she's also the most off-limits woman. My son's ex. Nineteen years old. Sweet, smart, and potentially a career-ruiner.
Except this isn't my career, is it? No one cares if the guy writing the textbooks is sleeping with a student. Noelle is an adult. There's nothing technically wrong with it. Morally, though?
There is a hell of a lot wrong with it morally.
She's dressed in a matching sage green yoga set, the shirt so tight and thin that I'm positive I can see the outline of her nipples all the way down here on the lecture floor. Her legs are crossed, her hair is in a high ponytail, and she has a pair of glasses on today that I'm almost certain aren't necessary, but they look incredible on her.
"Professor?"
The sound of a student clearing their throat, followed by my name, brings me out of my daydream. It's one of the boys in the front row, looking at me like he has a question.
"Yes?"
"Are you okay, man? You're sweating."
The class breaks into laughter and I roll my eyes, wiping the perspiration from my brow. "Just fine."
It's a lie.
I'm not fine.
Not only am I attracted to a girl I should not be, but my son is a grade-A asshole who's apparently treated her like shit. I feel like shit because no matter how hard I try, I can't make myself less interested in her simply because she dated my son. The connection is too strong, and the desire is undeniable.
Kissing her, holding her, and fucking her has occupied every spare moment I've had since the last time I saw her. Touching her even a little and getting caught would blacklist me from every university in the country. I'd have to start publishing under a pseudonym. Not only that, but it would earn me the moniker of the worst father in the fucking world.
Still, I want her.
When she came to see me for extra help, when I had her pressed up against the couch, and when we were face to face, inches away from a kiss that would change everything, it took all of my self-control not to give in. My son interrupted us, and that was the perfect excuse. But at that moment, all I wanted to do was tear her clothes off and make her mine.
That would be a disaster, not only for her grades and reputation but for my son too. Something tells me he wouldn't keep quiet about something like that.
Class finally ends, and I turn to the whiteboard, hoping Noelle will leave quietly and I won't have to watch her pert, little ass walking up the stairs and out of the classroom. A few moments pass, and then I hear the delicate clearing of a throat behind me. I close my eyes in defeat because there is zero doubt in my mind who is expecting my attention.
"Did you have a question, Miss Henry?" I ask without turning around, erasing the words from the whiteboard, hoping to hide the erection straining in my slacks.
"Yes," she says softly. "About the essay."
"The essay is due tomorrow, Miss Henry." Maybe if I don't say her name, I'll be able to rebuild that wall between us, the one that should exist for teachers and students.
"I know." She sighs. "I'm having trouble concentrating."
I swallow down the offer to help her that pops into my mind immediately, telling her instead, "I hear the library is quiet this close to break. Maybe you should head there and...give us both some space."