For a shameful second, my mind slips to imagining her on her knees, obeying my commands, sucking my hard cock with a moan in her throat as I tug on those pretty red curls.
Jesus Christ! She’s a student! A young, sweet, innocent student! I need to clean this up before I make an even bigger mess!
“I’m only saying I notice you because of your insight.” I struggle to hold my gaze on hers instead of letting my eyes wander toward her tits again.
Damn, why is this so hard? I’m an educated man. I don’t usually notice such physical things about women… at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. Apparently, I’m as barbaric as the rest of the male population. “I appreciate authenticity.”
Rosie nods slowly as she darts her gaze away. “Well, ugh, I guess… thank you.” She brushes her fingers back through her hair. “I, ugh, I’m not sure I can make it or not. I have a… thing.”
Fuck! I scared her away!
“I understand.” I nod quickly. “If you change your mind, I’ll be there.”
Before turning away, she wets her lips and stares up at me like she might have something more to say, though her inhibition doesn’t let her say it.
Dear fucking God, I’m a broken man. A fucking sick, broken man who’s trying to ruin an innocent girl.
What the hell am I doing?
I know why I called her down to the podium. Sure, I want her help with the book, but I want her help with the book because my cock is hard as fuck for her. Her brain, her curves, her softness, the way she carries herself. It’s a cocktail I’d gladly drink forever.
I knew that when I gave her my card, when I invited her back to my house, and when I told her that she’s the one I noticed. I should’ve just torn up her skirt and fucked her little pussy right there in the lecture hall. At least then I wouldn’t be a liar.
I’m lost in the fantasy of having my way with my student when I realize Rosie has left and Dean Andrews is standing in her place. “Professor Wilder.” He stares at me with the only expression he knows. It’s a subtle cross between annoyance and arrogance.
I can’t imagine what he’d have to say. It’s the end of the day, and I’m not signing up for any extracurriculars this semester. It took me years to learn that being an overachiever only hurts myself.
Shit! Maybe that’s what this is about!
“Tiffany Holden, a blonde girl from your afternoon 201, I’m giving her an exemption on homework for your class this semester.”
I narrow my gaze. “I’m sorry?”
“She’s volunteering at the hospital, so I offered her a pass on homework for one of her classes. She chose yours.”
This is the strangest agreement I’ve ever heard of, but I want this conversation to be over.
“Sounds good. Anything else?”
He shakes his head and takes one step back, then turns back toward me again. “I saw you talking to Rosie Carmichael. What’s the deal with her?”
My stomach tightens. “I don’t understand the question.”
The dean clears his throat. “I overheard you two talking in the hallway. You mentioned that she was the only one you noticed.”
My mouth goes dry.
Wow! Did I really fuck all this up before it even began?
“Yes, I was explaining a theory to her.” I’m thinking the less I say, the better, but the dean has more questions.
“What was the theory?”
I stand taller. “The theory had to do with the perception of beauty.”
“And you told Rosie you noticed her?”
“I did.” I swallow hard and stare at the steely-eyed man with a bald patch that’s growing by the minute.
