Page 5 of Hot for Professor

“Goodnight, Professor,” she calls as she hurries away without looking back.

I touch my cheek and watch her until she disappears inside. Well, I’ll be damned. Instead of getting her out of my system, it seems like Rosalie has somehow burrowed down into my heart.

Chapter 5

Rosalie

I’m on cloud nine as I type away in bed that night, lit only by the cool glow of my laptop so that I don’t wake Jen. I’m glad I took a shower before I went to Professor Hayes’s office because there’s no way I want to wash away his scent or his touch. I have to close my eyes and squeeze my thighs together as fresh tingles rush over me, just by thinking about what his strong, sure hands did.

The words he said to me; his forceful tone. I write it all down in exacting detail and my heart rate is just as high as when he was coaxing my very first orgasm from me. Not that it took much coaxing—I think that magical feeling would have burst over me just from his heated kisses and the way he fondled my breasts—but the moment he …

I sigh and fan myself, then sigh again in disappointment.

Yes, I’m still a virgin,I write at the end of my post.But it has to be close. He can’t leave me in limbo like this. I’ll die if he never touches me again, or if I can’t have that big thing bulging behind his pants.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic, but itfeelstrue. I keep typing, spilling out things I’d never thought about before I started this quest. I actually like Professor Hayes. He makes me want to study harder at all my classes, not just his, because his perfectionism inspires me. The way he takes my suggestions seriously, is never patronizing, and his helpfulness when I’m struggling with some task makes me realize I actually want a relationship with him.

Which is crazy. Why would he want to be with a nineteen-year-old kid when he’s a worldly, accomplished writer and respected professor? What do I have to offer that would ever make himloveme, not justwantme? A tear falls onto my keyboard and I hastily delete the mushy ramblings. That’s too personal for this blog, and I’m sure I’m just tired. I’m certainly not in love with my teacher and boss. It’s probably just my hormones, still ramped up from our encounter earlier.

The next day when I see him at his desk with his fingers flying over his keyboard, my heart twists. I’m not tired at all now, and those feelings are still there. He looks up and catches me staring at him. He points to the work schedule tacked up on the wall. I see he’s almost doubled my work hours and I turn to raise my eyebrows at him; all the while my stomach is doing excited backflips.

“You did say you wanted extra work hours,” he says.

I sidle back over to his desk and plant my hands on it so I’m leaning over. His eyes darken and my nerves kick in. This could be it.

“Does this mean you want to spend more time with me, Professor?” I ask teasingly.

He stands up and slides his hand around the back of my neck to tangle in my hair, pulling my face close to his. I part my lips, hoping to feel his tongue plunge between them.

Instead, he just searches my face, then curtly shakes his head. “I’ve never felt this way about a student before, Rosalie.”

“What way is that?” I squeak.

His grip in my hair tightens. “A dangerous way. If you’re smart, you’ll leave right now.”

I keep my eyes locked with his, my chest heaving. “I am smart, or else I wouldn’t have gotten this job.” I lean closer to him. “But I’m not leaving.”

Chapter 6

Adrian

Her lush lips are inches from mine and her eyes are pleading with me to kiss her. Instead, I roughly push her away.

“Do your work, Rosalie.” I sit back down, my stiff cock screaming in agony.

She looks shaken, but nods, smooths her short skirt and starts the heap of chores I’ve assigned her. Stupid things that don’t actually need to be done, just so I can keep her close, keep my eyes on her. It has to only be eyes, because I can’t touch her again. With the way my blood is raging for her, even the slightest brush of her skin against mine would be my undoing.

Thankfully, I have a lot of work to do and manage to get my concentration back where it belongs. She mentions the review site again and I ask her for the link. As I look it over, we chat about the books listed there, comparing which ones we’ve read and how we each felt about them. We have a bit of the same taste, but she’s much more adventurous than I am. I promise I’ll give some of her recommendations a try.

“Will you really?” she asks.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She shrugs and looks a bit sad. “Because I’m just a dumb freshman.”

Without thinking, I slap my hand on my desk. Hearing her put herself down pisses me off. “Never call yourself that again. Don’t denigrate yourself just because you’re young and inexperienced with the world. You’re more well-read than some of my colleagues in this department.”

Her cheeks glow and she beams at me. “Well, thanks, Professor.”

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