“That's a pretty low bar,” she teases, her hands exploring my chest. “You already forgot what Byzantine meant.”
“I never knew what Byzantine meant.”
“Fair point.” She gasps as I kiss that spot below her ear I've discovered she loves. “What—oh—what else is on this syllabus?”
“Hands-on learning.” I demonstrate by sliding my palms under her hoodie, finding warm skin. “Very interactive courseware.”
“I'm”—her breath hitches as my thumbs stroke her ribs—“usually good at interactive assignments.”
“Top of the class, I hear.”
“Dean's list every semester.” She pulls me closer with herlegs, and we both groan at the contact. “But I've never taken this particular course before.”
“Lucky for you, I'm an excellent teacher.”
“Modest too.”
“I have references.” I capture her mouth in a kiss that's all heat and promise. When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. “Previous students have given rave reviews.”
She laughs, but there's heat in it. “I don't want to hear about your previous students right now.”
“Jealous?”
“No.” She pulls my head down, lips brushing my ear. “Because I'm going to be your favorite.”
I pull back to look at her—hair messy, glasses slightly fogged, lips swollen from kissing—and my chest does that thing where it feels too full.
“You already are,” I admit, more honest than sexy.
Her expression softens for a moment, then returns to playful. “That's going to look great on my evaluation. 'Became professor's favorite through practical demonstration.'”
“Very practical,” I agree, lifting her slightly to scoot her back on the table. “Should we discuss office hours?”
“Are these your office hours?”
“Twenty-four seven availability for you.”
“That seems like poor work-life balance.”
“Worth it for my star student.” I step between her legs again, and she immediately pulls me back against her. “Plus, the benefits are excellent.”
“Oh yeah?” Her hands are in my hair now, tugging slightly. “What kind of benefits?”
“Dental isn't included, but I can definitely help with oral?—”
She claps a hand over my mouth, laughing. “Oh my god, you did not just?—”
I kiss her palm, then gently move her hand away. “Too much?”
“You're ridiculous.” But she's grinning, pulling me down for another kiss. “Good thing I like ridiculous.”
“Good thing I like brilliant girls who like to be bossed around in computer labs.”
“Mmm, instruct me more then, Professor Prescott.”
And that—the way she says it, all breathy and teasing—completely breaks what's left of my self-control.
“First lesson,” I say against her throat, “is about keeping quiet. This is still a public building.”
