Getting Schooled (Craving #9) Page 5
I can’t help it. I direct the final words at Olivia. Her cheeks turn pink at the innuendo, more than likely remembering screaming as I ate her pussy as if it were my last meal. My mouth waters. My appetite for her remains unsatisfied. I want more. Lots more.
Regardless of my raging libido, one problem remains. The University’s Code of Conduct.
Not only is Olivia a student at Spring Hill University, but she is also one of my students, which makes the situation tricky.
Teachers in relationships with students? Not even a gray area. It’s not allowed. Period. Even knowing this, I can’t shake her from my mind. Am I really stupid enough to risk everything for a second taste of her?
No. I worked too hard for this position.
I’ll go to the bar this weekend, pick up someone else, and will fuck Olivia from my thoughts. Even though one-night stands aren’t my norm, I’m desperate to erase her memory.
Problem solved. I hope.
With a plan of attack formed in my mind, I continue my course review and take the class line by line through the syllabus for the remainder of the allotted period. The entire time, my eyes continue to drift to Olivia. Each time they meet, she lowers her head and squirms in her seat as a blush creeps up her neck.
Her reactions lead me to wonder. Does the sight of me cause her nipples to pucker beneath her thin white shirt? Does my voice cause her pussy to weep? Does she clench her thighs to calm the ache building as she remembers our evening together?
In all my twenty-eight years, I have never felt such an intense attraction to another person. It’s insane. Why her? What makes her special? I don’t know, but I plan to find out.
With the previous plans to fuck her out of my system forgotten, I decide to throw the rule book out the window to explore this. I owe it to myself. Consequences be damned.
The clock indicates it’s time to wrap up my class for the day. Normally, I would allow them to return the contact sheet tomorrow, but not today. I’m not willing to give Olivia a chance to sneak out the back door and avoid me. I need to strike while I’m still at the forefront in her mind.
“On this last page is a student contact form. Please fill out your name and current information, then sign the bottom of the form acknowledging you understand the course expectations. This signature also allows me to provide you with course announcements via email, text, and robocall. Once you complete the form, please drop them off on the table at the front of the room. Don’t forget to read the required text before tomorrow’s class, and have a great remainder of your day.”
I remove the microphone from the collar of my shirt and quickly leave the lower level lecture hall door. Leaning against the wall partially hidden in a slight recess, I patiently wait until the students rush out, heading to their next classes for the day.
Knowing Olivia will be one of the last to leave due to where she chose to sit, probably hoping to make a quick exit out the rear door, causes the anticipation to build with every passing second. The beating of my heart and moisture on my palms show my nervousness despite the calm mask I hold in place.
Several minutes pass before Olivia leaves the lecture hall. Gotcha.
“Fuck!” She startles when she turns around and finds me standing there. “You scared the shit out of me. You can’t go around creeping up on people.”
I raise my eyebrow in question, deciding to have a little fun. “Is that any way to speak to your professor? I would expect more from an upperclassman.”
“Really?” she faintly mumbles under her breath and then turns to me with sarcasm dripping like venom. “I’m sorry. How utterly disrespectful of me. I apologize for my poor language.”
The sass in her voice makes me want to chuckle. Her fire turns me on, but then again, she could probably talk around a mouthful of rocks and my dick would take notice.
“Apology accepted, Olivia. I was wondering if I could please speak to you privately for a moment?” I ask without expression, not wanting to give any ammunition to her or anyone else who may be witnessing our interaction.
“Of course, Professor Montgomery,” she replies coolly and follows me back into the lecture hall. “How can I help you?”
Closing the door behind us, I shift over, partly blocking the door to halt any attempt at escape prior to talking. I want to kiss the sass right out of her but don’t want to scare her. Instead, I decide to throw a little of the sass back at her to watch how she reacts. I need to confirm she wants me as badly as I want her.
“Let’s cut to the chase and avoid playing games. You know why I’m asking to speak with you. Did you really think you could avoid this conversation?”
I know. I know. I’m the one playing games, but it’s too fun to watch her get pissed.
“What conversation would you be talking about?” While her tone may be a little aloof, however, the fire brewing in her eyes is anything but. “How about how we discuss the inappropriate innuendo you threw around left and right today? I don’t know how it was done where you come from, but I found the suggestive nature in which you chose to address the class to be juvenile and better suited to a frat house or locker room.”
Bring it, pretty thing. Bring it.
“Funny coming from you, Olivia. The way you undressed me with your eyes told me a different story. You seemed to be enjoying my innuendo and perhaps were even turned on a bit.” My rock-hard dick presses against my zipper. I place my hands in my pockets, relaxing my stance to relieve some of the pressure, and lean my weight against the door.
Her eyes drop to my crotch, not missing my erection, and I find myself thrilled with her obvious examination of my state. When her gaze comes back to mine, her hooded eyes tell me all I need to know.
“Let’s cut the bullshit, Daniel. What happened between us was a big mistake. Nothing can come of it. You know it, and I know it. There’s too much at risk for both of us,” she says with little conviction to her voice.
“What if I told you I’m not done exploring this?” She shakes her head as her mouth drops open in astonishment. “What if I told you I want to find a way to make this work?”
“Where’s the hidden camera?” she asks frantically in a high-pitched voice as she visibly searches the room. “This is a joke, right?”
Afraid she’s going to bolt, I take a few steps toward her, crowding her against the table and whispering in her ear. “There’s something here. The chemistry’s off the charts. Are you going to deny it?”
I want nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and hold her until she no longer questions the depth of my feelings for her. A sense of peace and completeness overcomes me as she allows her body to relax into mine.
Her breathing becomes shallow and speeds up. I pull back slightly to allow her a little room. Gazing at me with lust-filled eyes, she replies, her voice dripping with desire but still full of hesitation. “No. I can’t deny it. But this can’t happen. You’ll lose your job. I’ll lose my scholarship and be kicked out of school. I’m sorry.”
As she turns to run away, I pull her body back to mine, my desire mimicking hers. “You sure like to run, don’t you, baby? You can’t imagine how disappointed I was when I woke to find you gone. I was looking forward to another taste.”
“I’m sorry. I really am.” Olivia’s head falls back against my chest, and her body sinks into mine before she catches herself and resumes her rigid posture. “If things were different, I would love to explore this, but things aren’t different,” she whispers, emotion clogging her throat.
Spinning her around, I watch the tears form in her eyes. I place a chaste kiss on her lips, and the minute I release my hold, she flees the room.
“I’ll find a way to make this work. I promise you,” I whisper from behind her as she leaves.
Rubbing my hand against the ache in my chest from the piece of my heart that just broke, I release a deep sigh. I vow right there to do anything and everything I can to never witness those tears in her eyes again.
Chapter Three
“The motherfucker set me up,” I mutter under my breath as I wait for the last few minutes of class to pass. “Son of a bitch.”
We picked up our “random” final project assignments on our way into today’s class. Running late, there was enough time to grab my envelope and rush to find an empty seat before the lecture started. I stare at the slip of paper in my hand, having just opened it.
Random my ass.
There’s nothing random with my assignment. Daniel planned to give me this topic since day one. I know it. The fact he insists on pushing a relationship between us provides evidence enough.
After the class ends, I take my time packing up to allow the room to clear. My hands shake uncontrollably as adrenaline courses through my system. I stomp my way down the stairs as the last few students remaining clear the room.
Damn him. Why can’t he leave well enough alone?
When I reach the bottom of the steps, I witness the pure perfection of his body lazily leaning against the podium. He gives me a slow perusal, making my body heat and temporarily forget why I was angry.
Snap out of it, Olivia. Game face on.
“Is everything all right, Ms. Wilson? Your face is a little flushed,” Daniel states casually, ignoring my obvious anger, and it pisses me off even more.
My hackles instantly raise. Despite my best attempts to forget about him, he’s done a damn good job of making it impossible. While he leaves me alone during class, the same can’t be said for other times of the day.
This past week, I woke up every morning to a new text message from him, as well as one at the end of the day to say goodnight. He’s attempted to call me and email me, but those continue to go unanswered, hoping he’d get the hint. I learned a lot about Daniel from his communication efforts. His compliments were plentiful, and his efforts to persuade me were endless. In the end, I came to realize his soul was as beautiful as the wrapping.
Don’t get me started on the numerous deliveries. My small off-campus apartment smells like a florist due to the sheer number of bouquets that occupy the space. Fruit baskets, cookie bouquets, chocolates, and lingerie have also graced my doorstep. Good thing I live alone, or I would be trying to explain all this. At first the gifts annoyed the crap out of me, but after the first couple days, my annoyance shifted to being smitten, and I could tell he put a lot of thought into every item he sent. By the end of the week, I found myself looking forward to what I would find when I opened my door.
Over the last seven days, I found myself in awe of his determination, in admiration of his huge heart and willingness to express his emotions, and craving to experience his romantic side day after day. The fact he broke my barriers and causes me to wish for more makes him even more dangerous and me even more angry. Angry about the damn rules, angry I wanted something I couldn’t have, and angry he could melt my heart with even one small romantic gesture.
Hanging onto this anger and avoiding him proves to be my only viable option, because when I’m in his presence, my defenses crumble and my will to keep him at arm’s length fades.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
However, he’s a persistent fucker, and because of this latest stunt, he leaves me with no choice but to break my vow of silence. Once again, he places me in the impossible position to hold my ground and prevent myself from getting hurt, which fuels my anger to the level it reached today.
Trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism, regardless of how small, I reply, hoping the fact I want to castrate him isn’t evident in my voice. “I would like to discuss my assigned topic and ask for new one, since my current one has obviously been assigned by you.”
“I assure you, Olivia, the assignments were random. Do you mind if I see your topic?” He reaches out toward the slip of paper in my hand, and rolling my eyes, I hand it to him.
“Explore the taboo of a student and teacher relationship as it’s portrayed in creative fiction and determine if there are any situations in contemporary culture, where a relationship could be deemed appropriate.” He reads the slip verbatim. “I can see how you may think I hand selected this for you, but it’s merely coincidental. I think fate may have had a hand in selecting this since it’s rather fitting, considering our predicament.”
What a crock of shit. He truly believes I’m buying what he’s selling right now?
When a chuckle escapes his mouth at my stunned expression, all professionalism flies out the window, and my anger burns like an out of control wildfire. If I had any doubt regarding the lack of randomness of my assigned topic, the arrogant ass confirmed my suspicions with his response to my reaction.
At this rate, I’m more likely to kill him than fuck him again. God help us both.
“Let’s cut the crap. You’re a fucking douche pickle. You know that, right?” I growl out in frustration, hands on my hips to emphasize my point. “Don’t give some bullshit story about how it was completely random and coincidental and then start spewing stuff about fate or kismet or whatever nonsense you’ve convinced yourself of. You planned this shit. And let me guess. Your next suggestion will be I consult you on the topic because you’re a professor, after all.”
“What are you afraid of? I think you’re afraid you’ll find out there’s no way for us to be together. You already admitted to me you feel what’s going on between us. I would think this topic would be one you would like to explore. That’s what really scares you, isn’t it?” Standing from leaning against the podium, he places the slip of paper on it. “Admit it,” he commands.
The sound of his voice causes my nipples to go taut and my pussy to weep. I didn’t lie when I told him I felt the connection too. I do. It’s like his soul calls out to mine. My body craves his, but I can’t let myself act on the desire. Our current situation doesn’t allow for it. Sometimes the best things for us aren’t always the easiest choices to make.
His eyes find mine, and a cocky smirk crosses his face at my body’s confirmation of his assessment, enraging me further and causing me to lose all semblance of control.
“All. This. Needs. To. Stop,” I yell. “Eventually, someone will notice and cause a huge problem. While you may be willing to give up your dreams for a relationship, which may or may not work out in the end, I’m not.”
“My kitten has claws. Damn, you’re sexy when you’re pissed off.” He takes a step in my direction, and I take a step back. “I bet angry sex with you would be fucking out of this world.”
Another step forward from him and another step backward from me.
“Professor Montgomery,” I say with pure venom in my voice and anger flashing in my eyes. “Having to repeat myself is getting old quickly. This is not going to happen. While you may not value your job, I value my education. I’m in my final year and will not jeopardize everything I’ve worked for because of some chemistry. I’ve had chemistry with plenty of guys, and I wouldn’t throw everything away for them either. You aren’t fucking special.”
Step forward. Step back.
“First, call me Daniel.” He smirks. “There’s no need for formality when I’ve already fucked you boneless. Unless you get off on calling me Professor. I can get on board with that.”
I roll my eyes and sigh in frustration. No response would be appropriate to deflate his ego.
“Second, this thing between us is more than basic chemistry, and you know it.” We both take another step, continuing our dance, and his voice lowers. “If this was just chemistry, tell me why, when another woman talks to me in class, you scowl and look away. You may not realize you do it, but I see it.”
I won’t admit it to him, but I can’t deny the truth to myself. Why do I find myself jealous of the attention he receives? Why do whispered words of appreciation from fellow female classmates make my heart ache? I hold no claim to him, and I’m adamant we will never be a couple, despite his best efforts or how badly I would love to explore our connection. Jealousy should have no place in my mind. My brain understands this,
but my heart and body still long for him.
He takes the smallest of steps in my direction, further closing the distance.
“If this was just chemistry, why does my heart ache when you refuse my calls or won’t acknowledge my texts and emails? Why does my heart skip a beat at the mere thought of seeing you and your smile?” His voice briefly turns somber. “When you don’t think I’ll notice, you let your guard down, and I catch a glimpse of the longing in your eyes.”
Don’t ask me when my heart got involved. Through the persistent phone calls, emails, texts, and gifts, he managed to break down my walls. Though I’ve given little of myself to him, he’s given a lot of himself to me in those acts.
“Now let’s talk about the chemistry. It’s far beyond a simple pheromone reaction. Explain why your nipples are tight and visible right now. Tell me why I can smell your arousal from here. Clarify for me why your breathing’s shallow and a flush is climbing up your chest and neck right now. Then also explain why such a visceral reaction from my mere presence can be viewed by me clear across the room.”
Once again, he’s right. One glance in my direction from him or one sexy smile directed my way and my walls and the fire inside me builds until I find some way to douse those flames, which usually requires a trip home and a round or two with my battery-operated boyfriend.
One more step for both of us.
“It’s purely a physical reaction,” I justify weakly, breathless. “I can’t control my hormones.”
With my next step, my back hits the door of the room’s supply closet. Too busy paying attention to him, I fail to notice the distance we migrated across the room.
Damn it. He has me cornered, and he knows it.
“No, baby, it’s more than that. Much more.” He lifts his hand and strokes a single finger down my cheek and neck, eliciting a shiver through my body.
Raising his hand, he gently collars my throat. Not in a sign of aggression, but one of possession. Immediately my brain turns to mush and my knees go weak. Noticing my state, he moves his body until it presses against mine, slipping a knee between my legs to keep me from sliding down the wall.