Page 10 of Falling for the Quarterback

He frowns for a moment and then smirks a cheeky grin, nodding once before lifting himself from me and leaning down on the floor to fumble around for his pants. Yanking something from one of his pockets, he returns to my side, shaking a foil packet in his fingers like it’s a prize.

“Quite the Boy Scout,” I say with a raised eyebrow.

“Safety first, then fun,” he replies with a wink, opening the packet with his teeth and rolling the condom over his impressive length. “Now, where was I?”

I sink back into the bed at the first touch of his fingers as they trace a seductive path up my thigh to find my swollen, wet flesh. He has me crying out within seconds, circling my clit and working me into a frenzy with his fingers before swiftly sinking into me as he skillfully brings me to orgasm.

“Don’t stop!” I cry out as the edges of my vision darken as starlight explodes behind my eyelids. He doesn’t and a moment after I fall into the bliss I so desperately needed, he follows suit and finds his own release.

I realize I’ve been holding my breath and staring into space when the sound of the classroom door slams and brings me back to reality. The entire room is now staring at me and I seem to return from another universe. I drag in some air to fill my lungs and try to calm myself before Hendy notices me standing in front of the room.

Then, as if he realizes the whole room has turned quiet, he slowly lifts his gaze, starting down at my feet and making his way up my body until our eyes meet and lock.

His face remains impassive, the only tell of recognition being the tip of his tongue making an arc around his mouth.

Bollocks. Fuck.

This is not what I expected on my first day of the semester.

I’ve never had a poker face, but maybe I can just ignore the fact that there is a conflict of interest in that I’ve already slept with one of my students.

Or maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll drop this class. Yes, of course, why wouldn’t he?

I’m sure he’ll be unbearably uncomfortable sitting in my class day after day, week after week, and he’ll not want the trouble.

A drop of sweat drips between my cleavage as dread washes over me. I swallow thickly, knowing I’m expected to address the class, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.

With every ounce of wherewithal I can muster, I remind myself how to speak and begin my rehearsed speech.

“Good morning, everyone, and welcome. I’m Professor Charlotte Butler and this is Digital Marketing…” I stop suddenly, having drawn a complete blank and forgotten the course name.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

My prepared notes shake in my hand and I’m painfully aware of the snickers that waft around the room. A deep voice that sounds like it was forged in whiskey and cigarettes jumps in.

“Case Studies of European Countries.”

I glance up, knowing exactly where it came from. “Thank you,” I supply dully, trying to get my feet back underneath me.

“Yes, this is a graduate-level course, so if you’re not a grad student or this isn’t the class you enrolled in, now would be a great time to sneak out. I promise not to look.”

I turn around, my back to the class, as my comment lightens the mood and laughter rises up. Then the shuffling of feet and the door opening and closing shut can be heard, letting me know at least one or more took me up on that offer.

Finally, I turn back around and grin.

“Happens every time,” I add with a laugh. “Now, then. I’m excited to have you all here this semester. We’ll dive into the lecture in a moment, but first, since we’re a small class and we’ll be doing a lot of group work over the next semester, I want to go around the room and introduce ourselves. If you could give me your full name so I may mark my attendance roster, where you’re from, and your interest in the topic of our course, I would appreciate it.”

I gesture to the student nearest me, a bright-eyed young woman with dark hair and eyes and an eager expression on her face.

“Would you care to begin?”

The student smiles and nearly jumps out of her chair to face the class.

“Hi. I’m Ellen Chang. I’m from Irvine, California. I want to be a marketing executive in my father’s company once I’ve graduated with my MBA.”

I smile politely at Ellen. “Thank you, Ellen. That’s very admirable. Next?”

Another student rises and we continue to go through the room as I jot down their preferred pronouns and mark their presence on my roster, but my eyes continue to drift automatically to Hendy, who watches me with an intensity that is both thrilling and disorienting. Not once does he seem to give any notice to his classmates.

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