Page 32 of Tempt Me

The chirpy bitch up front piped up. “Some people have multiple perceptions.”

He chuckled, the masculine rumble making my stomach flip. He walked up to her seat and slid his sleeves up further on his arms, the buttons straining to hang on when he pulled them up by his biceps.

Dear god, was his whole body covered in intricate tattoos?

I slunk down in my seat, imagining that if I kept going down, maybe I could disappear into the tile underneath me.

“You tell me,” he said, his voice low. Baring his tattooed arms and leaning down to be at her eye level, he met her gaze. “What multiple perceptions do these create for you?”

Her gulp was audible in the room. It was so fucking quiet as he stared her down, waiting for her to answer. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue too tied at his proximity to form words. When she was silent for a minute, he smiled his panty-dropper smirk and raised back up to his giant level height.

He patted her head like a dog. “Fear is the response most people feel statistically. The learned stigma that bad people have tattoos. So feeling as if one is in danger is a common sensation when seeing inked skin.”

Professor Masters walked through the rows of our desks, his hand trailing on the surface of some as he continued.

“However, there is another perception.”

He was walking closer to me, and I could see his tall form shadowing my desk as I peeked over the flat table in front of me.

“Attraction,” he continued, his tone going lower.

I felt like he was looking at me—just at me. Well, he also kept walking toward my desk.

“Can anyone guess what emotion that evokes with this perception?” he said, looking around at each student but ignoring the hands rising.

Reaching up, he unbuttoned more of those buttons, going slowly down, the tattoos on his chest being revealed, along with the designs on his navel, and lastly, the adonis belt formed into his muscular body.

Was it warm in here?

“Fallon,” he said, a dangerous toying edge to his voice.

He was right in front of my desk now, his thick package bulging in his dress pants. I lifted my head, my eyes roving up his body in slow motion, ogling every damn inked line of muscle on his tanned skin.

“What do you feel, Little Voyeur?” His words were low, like it was a secret whispered only to me.

I wasn’t letting this ungodly hot asshole fuck with me. He was trying to make me look stupid.

I straightened in my seat and stared him right in the eye, having to crane my neck and be blinded by the damn lights on the ceiling because of his stupid gigantic height.

“Arousal,” I said sternly.

His smile was primal. His eyes devoured my damn soul, sliding down my body and all but boring a hole through my desk to my clenching pussy.

Fuck you.

“Good girl,” he said, rubbing his scruff on his face, his finger brushing over his lips.

I had to bite mine to keep from squeaking pathetically like a cat in heat.

When will the class be over so I can get the fuck away from him?

As if nothing happened, he turned around and walked back to the front. His shirt buttoned up again, his voice casual like nothing happened.

I listened to the people chattering around me while discussing our assignment. I couldn’t just snap back to normal like he could. I was still reeling, and that damn shower still had me on edge. I could have sworn I felt a physical hand in the darkness using the sprayer on me…

His voice was too real, too close…

I was losing my fucking mind. My phone buzzed, so I glanced at the screen. Ferdinand was asking if I liked my costume, andthe thought made me cringe. I spent the rest of class texting Sasha about this damn party and telling her to meet me at the cafeteria for lunch.

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