Page 35 of The Naughty Professor
Joan and Lorna.
Lorna was having the time of her life.She sat right at the stage, bills fanned in her hand like she was the queen of the strip club.She whooped and hollered every time a dancer flexed near her, stuffing bills down waistbands with a wicked grin.
Joan, though—Joan looked like she’d swallowed glass.Chin tilted, arms crossed tight, like she was above the whole thing.But her eyes kept darting toward the stage, her jaw tight with something that wasn’t just disapproval.Jealousy, maybe.Or a hunger she’d never admit.
I almost laughed.Poor Joan, caught in my orbit, and pretending she wasn’t burning alive.
Then, I saw him.
My gaze snagged on someone different, someone who didn’t belong in this sea of sweaty bodies and flashing lights.
A man in the crowd, set back a little from the stage.Broad shoulders filling out a button-down shirt, muscles straining the fabric, blond hair catching the lights.His jaw was square, clean-shaven.And his eyes—Christ, those eyes.Blue so clear I could see them from behind the curtain.They cut through the noise, the lights, and straight into me.
My cock stirred with need.
He wasn’t hooting or waving bills like the rest.He just sat there, arms folded, gaze fixed on the stage, like he didn’t want to be here but couldn’t look away.The man obviously didn’t belong here, and yet he was the only one who mattered.
Then Joan moved.
She darted straight to him, her mouth already moving too fast.I couldn’t hear her words over the music, but I saw her body language—leaning in, possessive, and desperate.
And his face fell.
Disappointment.Clear, sharp, like she’d ruined something just by touching him.
The recognition slammed into me like a freight train.
Thorne Carr.The philosophy professor.
The man who’d haunted Felix’s thoughts in the dark, who’d been off-limits, and untouchable.The one he’d never dared approach.
And now he was here, in this place, watching men dance.
My pulse roared in my ears.Heat surged through me, not just lust but hunger, a need so sharp it was almost painful.The thong dug into my hips, my cock straining, my body buzzing with desire.
This was destiny.
I was going to claim Thorne Carr.
ChapterThirteen
Thorne
Ididn’t belong here.
That was the thought that kept circling as I sat at a tiny table next to the stage in Badlands, surrounded by pulsing lights, half-naked men, and the roar of music that was more vibration than sound.
Men were everywhere—lean, muscled, sweaty under the colored strobes.Some wore harnesses, some wore leather chaps, some wore nothing but underwear.They laughed too loudly, leaned into each other too close.I was supposed to find this exciting.Liberating.Something.
Instead, I was bored.
I tugged at the collar of my button-down shirt, wishing I’d worn something that didn’t make me look like I’d gotten lost on my way to the golf course.The drink Sean had shoved into my hand had long since gone watery, and even the bourbon hadn’t dulled the awkwardness settling into my bones.
Sean, of course, was in his element.He leaned against the bar a few feet away, already chatting up two shirtless men with smiles that promised they wouldn’t be going home alone.Every time I caught his eye, he gave me the same look: loosen up.Live a little.
But Badlands wasn’t my scene.It was too loud, too bright, too raw.I wasn’t twenty-five anymore, and I’d never been the kind of man who shouted across a bar to make a connection.Even after four years of being single, the thought of a one-night stand left me cold.
And yet—I was here.
