Page 3 of Yes! Professor Hendrix
He walked toward me with slow, measured steps. “Miss Morrow…”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t know he would recognize me so easily. “Mr. Nolan. I just wanted to apologizeagain… in person. That email?—”
“So you write porn?” he cut me off. His voice calm, but a look in his eyes I couldn’t read.
I felt my eyes snap open in surprise, the question catching me completely off guard.
“Excuse me? I… No… I write erotic novels,” I corrected, my heart racing.
He stepped in closer. Just enough to invade that thin line of personal space adults usually respect. His cologne hit me first. Something warm and smoky, like cedar and spice, subtle but impossible to ignore. It didn’t just smell good—it settled in my throat, lingered behind my ribs.
I swallowed hard.
The room was technically empty, but the hallway buzzed with early morning footsteps—teachers, parents, maybe even a stray student wandering in by mistake. Anyone could’ve walked through that door. We weren’t doing anything wrong. Not exactly. But standing that close, with the air between us thick and charged, it definitely didn’t feel appropriate.
My heart knocked once. Then again.
His hands stayed tucked casually in his pockets, but his eyes locked onto mine like he had all day to study me. There was something slow about his stare.Intentional. The kind of look that makes you forget how to blink.
I could feel the heat rising up my neck.
Then he leaned in. Just a breath away. I felt the edge of his mouth near my ear, and my pulse tripped.
“I was gonna let it slide,” he murmured, voice dropping lower, velvet-smooth and almost too quiet. “But now that I have you in front of me…I’ma make you feel every fucking word you wrote.”
His breath grazed my skin, warm and unhurried.
My lips parted. I blinked.
“What—what did you just?—”
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. “I can’t wait, Miss Morrow. ‘I’m gonna fuck you so slow your legs forget how to walk,’”he said, repeating my damn line.
Then he just turned around and walked back to his desk. Sat down like he hadn’t just set my whole damn body on fire. Grabbed his documents and started reading, calm as hell. Like that filthy-ass whisper in my ear never even happened.
And I stood there. Frozen. Wet. Speechless.
My legs felt shaky. My chest was tight. And I couldn’t stop replaying what just happened.
I barely had time to recover before I heard sneakers and voices echoing down the hallway. The kids were coming back from morning prayer.
Shit.
I turned and slipped out quickly, head down, moving fast like I had somewhere important to be. All I knew was I couldn’t let Marisa see me like this. Because there was no way I could explain why I looked like I’d just had an orgasm standing in front of her fourth-grade teacher.
Chapter Two
Nolan Hendrix
She was gone. I glanced back up from my laptop and the doorway was empty, her silhouette gone like it was never there. Only the distant hum of early morning noise drifted in from the hallway. Lena Morrow had vanished like a fucking mirage. But her scent still lingered—something warm, soft, expensive.Feminine. The kind of scent that sinks under your skin and sticks.
I sat back in my chair and exhaled slowly.
That woman…
That woman was dangerous.
She was 31 years old, just four years younger than me. Yes, I knew that ‘cause I read her daughter’s parent file and did my damn homework. She looked like fucking temptation sculpted in flesh. Light skin kissed with that soft golden undertone that made her glow like summer. Cat-like eyes, sharp and low, eyesthat made a man feel seen and stripped bare in one breath. Her hair was long, dark, thick as hell, falling over her shoulders in wild waves that had me gripping air just to stop my damn hand from reaching. I wanted to fist it, pull her head back and watch those lips part as she moaned my name. Her lips were full, plush, always a little shiny like she’d just licked them. It made me think of how they’d feel wrapped around my dick, soft and messy. Her cheekbones were sharp enough to cut through any weak man’s resolve, and her neck… God. That neck was made for my mouth. For my teeth. For my fucking hands.
