“Don’t go there.” I hold up a finger like I’m scolding a child, but I’m pretty sure I look like a crazy woman talking to herself in the street.
It’s time to do what Olly keeps pushing me toward and go after what I want.
Standing outside the professor’s door—knuckles ready to knock—I hesitate. I need to write this outline, but is seducing the professor really what I want?
The door opens in a rush before I can consider the answer.
“Miss Wright.” Professor Gibson stands in the doorway, eyes wide, almost panicked.
Well, this seduction is off to a good start.
His grip tightens on the coffee mug in his hands. “What can I do for you?”
I steel myself for the role I’m about to play—a leading lady, confident enough to turn a good boy bad.
“I have a few questions about, uh… the assignment.” My voice is shaky, nothing like a confident seductress.
His throat bobs. “I was about to break for lunch.”
My skin turns cold and clammy. He’s going to turn me away. My outline will beboring as shit again. I’ll never get in the box set, never have my own experiences, and spend my future pretending that listening to Olly’s exploits isn’t breaking my heart.
But I said one time and promised I wouldn’t fall in love with him.
I channel my sweetest smile and hope I don’t look as unsure as I feel. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Professor Gibson hesitates, then looks into the empty hall, checking both directions as though allowing a student into his office is forbidden.
Is it because he’s expecting another performance?
Confidence makes me stand a little taller, makes me stick my chest out a little further, knowing shy Lacey made her professor flustered.
He nods and steps aside so I can enter. Leaving the door ajar, he makes the short walk to his chair and lowers himself into it, the wide gray desk standing like a barrier between us.
He clasps his hands on the desk in what I assume is supposed to look like a professional pose, but it only lasts a moment before he leans back, gripping the arms of his chair. He fidgets as though he’s nervous, yet the way his gaze darts from my mouth to my breasts hints at a hidden excitement.
Confident Seductress.
Leading Lady.
The author in me takes over, and scenes begin to play in my head.
I grip the door handle. “Do you mind?”
He clears his throat and shakes his head. “This is your time.”
I close the door and turn the lock, the click almost as loud as the thunder of blood behind my ears.
His eyes linger on the lock for a moment before looking at me. “What do you need assistance with?”
My nerves crumble with each breath, and my skin hums to life, electrified as I consider previous scenes I’ve written like this, and now I’m actually in one…
Channeling my inner protagonist, I rest my shoulder blades on the door, hands behind my back, chest pointing out at an enticing angle. “I was wondering if you enjoyed the show yesterday.”
His eyes widen in shock, and his throat bobs. He shifts in his chair.
Is his cock hardening?
If he were a character I’d written, it would be.
