Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Belcher nervously adjusts his glasses. “I–I was just introducing myself to your student here—”
“Yes, I saw.” August’s thumb moves gently on my arm. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. Or maybe he does, and he’s doing it precisely so Belcher can see. “Is there something Miss Monroe can help you with? Academically?”
The emphasis on his final word is surgical.
“Oh, no, just being friendly,” Belcher replies, forcing a laugh. “Students should know they have…multiple options in the department.”
“Miss Monroe has all the options she needs.” August hasn’t raised his voice a bit. He hasn’t even moved or done a single thing that could seem odd or out of place, and yet Belcher has taken a step backward.
He takes another, off the grass and onto the edge of the path. It’s like he’s retreating from battle, and I watch, fascinated. I’ve never seen this kind of standoff between two men go this way. Normally when guys face off, they end up swinging wildly at each other. But August has Belcher terrified without even trying.
It’s amazing and has me hot all over.
“Goodbye, Professor,” he says. Something flickers behind Belcher’s glasses. For a second, I’m sure he’s going to lash out. Lose control.
Thankfully, he doesn’t. He just nods once, adjusts his fancy sport coat, and walks away.
The moment he’s out of earshot, August’s composure cracks. Nothing anyone else would notice—none of the students walking by—but I see it. I notice the change in his breath, the way he looks down at me like he owns me.
His green eyes have a flat, focused quality that I now understand is the look of a man holding something back with all his strength.
“He touched you…”
“My arm.” I keep my voice low. There’s already enough tension. “Just my arm.”
His jaw flexes. He looks after Belcher, and I watch his nostrils flare like a wild animal ready to attack. I’m pretty sure if we weren’t on campus and Belcher wasn’t part of the faculty, this would be getting resolved in a very different manner.
“He won’t bother you again,” August says, his voice solid like concrete. “I promise.”
“It’s okay—”
“Jessie.” He looks deep into my eyes, setting something on fire inside me. “He will not bother you again.”
Wow.
I should be scared by the absolute certainty of his statement. Talk about possessive. Becca would probably tell me it’s a red flag for a man—a much older man that I just met and who is my professor—to be saying something like that to me. And she would probably be right.
I should find it controlling. A red flag the size of the quad where we’re standing. But instead, my body does something without even asking my brain first: It floods with warmth that spreads through my chest, down my arms, and to my center.
My eyes move to his lips, and instantly, I’m back to yesterday when he had them wrapped around my…well, you know.
He’s also still holding my arm, right here in the middle of the quad in full view of tons of students. His thumb still moves absentmindedly across my skin, slow circles that I now know he doesn’t even realize he’s making.
“You didn’t even look at me during the lecture,” I say without thinking. I don’t know why, except for the fact that the thought’s been sitting in my mind since I got up slowly from my seat, begging for him to look at me. “Not even once.”
He stares at me for a moment as the afternoon sun shines down on us and students pass by. I don’t notice any of them. Just him. It’s like we’re in our own little world where nothing else matters.
“It was nearly impossible not to, Jessie,” he finally growls. “I knew that if I looked at you, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”
My heart pulses, leaping in a way I’m certain can’t be found in any textbook.
“You don’t know how hard it is for me not to tear your clothes off right now, Jessie,” he says, his voice low. “My cock is so hard. I want to feel you, taste you, take you.”
“August—” My voice barely comes out. My legs wobble. If he keeps this up, I might pass out.
“Tomorrow. Same time,” he says abruptly, like he’s changing the subject. “There’s…more material I need to go over with you.”
I’m scorching inside. I have goosebumps all over. Good goosebumps. “More material?”
He nods, his eyes burning for me. “Significantly more.”
This is the part where I say no. Where I tell him that what happened yesterday can’t happen again and that we should keep our relationship just teacher-student.
But I can’t. Not while he’s looking at me with those amazing green eyes. Not while he has his hand on my skin and my body is screaming ‘yes, yes, yes!’ from every intimate region.
“Tomorrow. Same time,” I say.