Page 40 of The Biker and the Professor
Astime goes on, however, classes with him become more and more unbearable. Where I was begging for his attention before, now I’m wishing I wasn’t getting it, because his hurt has turned into hate.
In class, he's downright obnoxious. My once stellar, taciturn student is now a nightmare, always making sarcastic remarks or questioning my teaching tactics. The class loves it. Everyone thinks it’s so “dope” that he’s from a badass motorcycle club, so they all suck up to him. It’s “cool” to be acknowledged by Nero Gunnar. And because he’s a brilliant, straight-As student, him challenging my methods and formulas is accepted by the others.
I know he's doing it to offend me, to upset me, to get back at me, but this isn't him. This isn’t his style. He’s called “Grunt” for a reason.
~
“Mr.Gunnar, may I have a word, please?” I say after class one morning.
“I’ll wait outside for you,” says Kylie, the blond who sits next to him and is always in his space, either playing with his man-bun, his earlobe, or whispering in his ear. I'm not sure if they're sleeping together, dating, or whatever, but of recent, they’ve been leaving class together with his arm thrown around her shoulders.
It hurts to see, but he’s single and free to do whatever he wants, right?
As he makes his way toward my desk, his expression and body language tell me he's irritated that I even dare to stop him. Or maybe it's my authoritative voice he has an issue with? I snort at the latter. We both know that where the two of us are concerned, he’s always the one in control. He has full command over me and my body. My will belongs to him, even now.
However, we are in an environment where I’m allowed to exert my authoritative power and he can’t do anything about it.
There’s ice in his eyes as he stalks up to me in his shitkicker boots and growls, “What?”
“Good morning to you, too, Mr. Gunnar.” When he just stares at me expectantly, I sigh and continue, “I get that you hate me and all, but do you really need to behave the way you’ve been behaving in class? It’s childish and very uncharacteristic of you. Being rude and snide, and questioning my teaching abilities in front of the entire class is just crossing the line, Nero. You might be a brilliant student, but you’re not the one with the Ph.D. You’re nowhere near my academic level, you haven’t a clue. So, I’m asking you, kindly, tostop it.”
His shoulders jerk in a shrug. “Sorry, but that's just how I treat people I hate. Not that you'd know anything about that, would you, Professor? You hurt the people you love, and stay with the people you hate, right?”
Of course, he’s throwing my ex-husband in my face again. “I didn't stay with him because I wanted to, I stayed with him because I had no choice.”
“And you left me because you wanted toandbecause you had a choice.” He shakes his head at me. “That’sexactlywhy I question your teaching abilities, Professor Blume with the Ph.D. Because you never make any goddamn sense.”
At my wit's end, I throw my hands up. “So, what, you're just gonna hate me forever? Punish me for the rest of the semester? It's funny, because you've obviously moved on.” I make a wild gesture to the door where Kylie is waiting for him outside. “I'm baffled how you even find the time or energy to hate me when you have your hands full with rebounds.”
Despite my efforts to appear unaffected, my vision blurs with unshed and unwanted tears. It hurts too damn much. “How many cunts have you eaten in the last three weeks, huh? Maybe I should find a rebound dick to suck—”
“Watch your mouth,” he snarls, stepping into my space, shoving his face into mine.
Submissive to him, I immediately snap my mouth shut. He owns me and he knows it.
His eyes are fire as they burn into mine. They blaze down my protective wall and force me to see what I’ve been shutting my eyes to, what I’ve been running from, what I don’t want to accept.
He loves me.
Nero Gunnar freaking loves me.
As if blasted through the chest with a shotgun, I jerk back a step, wanting to get away. From him, from his stare, from the truth.Outof this room.
He must see the fear in my eyes because he backs off and shakes his head at me as if disappointed. “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’ll cut the shit in class.”
Only after he stalks out of the classroom and throws his arm around his rebound without looking back, do I let go of the breath I’m holding.
I’mexiting theclassroom a few minutes later when Professor Fitzpatrick comes out of nowhere and falls into step with me. Almost as if he had been waiting outside for me the entire time.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he greets in that husky voice of his.
It’s become the norm now for Fitzpatrick to hit on me. Whenever I see his sparkling green eyes and that panty-dropping smile of his, I know he's about to ask me out. In the faculty room, the few gossiping female professors never fail to point out how “lucky” I am to have the attention of the hottest professor on campus.
I've never given Fitzpatrick the time of day, because one, I’m not looking for a relationship of any sort, and two, I’ve been a bit—okay,a lot—distracted with my inappropriate attraction to my student.
“Professor Fitzpatrick,” I say with a subtle eye roll. “Are you having a good day so far?”
“Now that I've seen you, I am,” he drawls.
