“Miss Ashcroft.”
“—your class was well led, and the syllabus is fantastic. And Ineedthis class, Professor. I can’t drop out. I didn’t mean to—”
“Miss Ashcroft! Please!” His voice went low and stern. A baritone rumble from deep in the chest that vibrated through the air and into my bones like the welcome purr of an engine. The sort of tone that made the praise-seeking type squeeze their thighs together.
I gulped, forgetting all the swirling apologies in my brain.
Professor Quinn crossed his arms, briefly pulling my eyes to his broad chest and his suit jacket straining under his flexing biceps. I tried not to think about him working out.
And failed.
“Any other student,” he began, words exhaled out of him and his shoulders loosened their tension. “If it had been any other student disrupting my class, I would have made them walk out that door and never come back.”
“Please, no!”
He lifted a hand.
A trembling sigh breached me, but I locked my lips.
“Any other student,” he repeated, seemingly to himself as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. The stones in my stomach lifted, rising with his blue-gray stare latching onto my face. “But I knew your grandfather. Very well, in fact.”
I barely withheld my gasp.
“You were a student of his?”
“Indeed, and it’s only because I worked with him that I’ll grant you this leniency. I wouldn’t excuse that sort of outburst from anyone else. In fact, I don’t think I ever have.” His voice registered low, balancing between threatening and reassuring. He braced a hand on the side of the podium and placed the other on his hip while staring down at me. An imposing and distinguished figure I couldn’t get enough of, even if he was towering over me. “But I must still make an example of you.”
Images flashed through my mind of a firm hand putting me over his knee and lifting my skirt for a swift, ruthless spanking.A punishment that I wanted more than I could admit. Looking at his hands only made me rub my knees together.
“I understand, Professor. I really am sorry.”
He tipped his head. “Then, as stated earlier, you can make it up to me by becoming my personal assistant. While the role is usually reserved for graduate students, I’m willing to make an exception. In exchange for grading papers and guiding coursework, I’ll offer credit hours.”
“I don’t need extra credit,” I snapped. Then immediately bit my tongue when his thick, discerning brows lifted imperiously. “My grades are perfect is what I meant to say.”
The corner of his lips twitched with something that could have been frustration or amusement. His stony expression was difficult to read, but the full weight of his scrutiny was both unsettling and captivating. He pushed off the podium, tucked both hands in his pockets, and stepped closer. Close enough to feel the drugging heat rippling off him.
“Miss Ashcroft, I won’t force you to do anything, but you must realize how it looks for me if I permit a student to disrespect me at the start of my class. If you don’t obey, there might be other punishments we can explore…” his voice trailed off, and I shivered as the vivid image of a hand slapping my behind cracked through my mind. “We wouldn’t want the Dean to hear that the granddaughter of old Hunter Ashcroft was causing problems, would we?”
“No! No, sir, please,” I begged.
His ocean-fraught stare glinted into something glacially sharp. He inhaled through his nose, chest heaving. We stared at one another, frozen in the heavy tension warping the hall. All the air lodged in my lungs, and I forgot how to breathe.
The professor inclined his head as I clutched my satchel. He stood before me mesmerizing and reserved, like an antique lockbox I desperately wanted to find the key for. An undeniablyattractive man, and we were sharing the same air. But I couldn’t help thinking that his stoic allure was a mask standing between us. As handsome as a statue, but unmoving, unfeeling stone all the same.
“Hmm,” he hummed, regarding me with keen, dark eyes.
I twitched from nervousness.
His hands flexed in his pockets, still staring at me as if he couldn’t look away.
“Well?” I meant to sound confident, defiant, but the word escaped in a weak croak. My face flamed, and I cleared my throat. “I’ll be a good student.” The words made him swallow hard, finally tearing his gaze from me to blink at the floor. “Anything you want, professor. I’ll be your assistant, please. I just can’t lose this class, and I don’t want to ruin my grandfather’s reputation here.”
Kilbride wasn’t the school I wanted to attend, but it held importance to my family. I wouldn’t tarnish my name as my father had. Only I stood in the way of redemption.
“Right.” He swiped a hand over his face, turning away from me to shuffle a sheaf of papers on the podium. “Email me your availability and we’ll work out a sufficient schedule going forward.”
Everything in me protested the loss of my time, or what little of it remained. I had a full course load to trudge through if I wanted to reach the end, and something in me raged at the prospect of dedicating time to helping this man teach a class.
