If anyone would honor an oath, it’s Professor Wilder. The man is straight as an arrow. He even keeps his highlighters organized by color and every note he writes on the board has to be even with the last or he erases it and rewrites the whole thing. A man who doesn’t like chaos isn’t typically out searching for it.
I mean, the fact thatIfantasize abouthimis okay. A lot of students crush on their professors. Heck, a lot of women fantasize about men in positions of power. Bosses, professors, doctors… it’s a thing. It’s a very normal, very well documented thing to think about your professor taking your virginity in the little supply closet at the front of his lecture hall. Just as I’m sure it’s normal to think about your boss ordering you onto your knees to suck his cock dry while he spanks your ass for not getting your work in on time.
My panties dampen as I slam on the brakes and stare up at the stop light ahead. Clearly, I’m so horny I’m not thinking straight anymore. This is stupid. I already told him I wasn’t interested in the research assistant program. I don’t need to show up tonight to win some stupid bet with Ellie or prove to myself that I’m not a stick in the mud.
I’m a stick in the mud, and that’s okay.
Given that fact, someone explain to me why I pull forward, why I keep driving, why I park in his driveway, and why I let myself inside without knocking, as he told me earlier.
Someone explain to me why I pause and breathe in his woodsy scent as I open the door, why my heart hammers against my chest, and why I stay when I hear him growling in the back room.
Someone, anyone, please explain this to me! What the hell am I doing?
