Page 2 of Professor's Forbidden Temptation

“I have,” she says, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “Not that I think about them too much. I don’t have a lot of interest in them. They’re so immature. It’s why I’m still single.”

“You’re not seeing anyone?” I ask, hoping I come off as curious instead of excited. I always assumed a sweet, smart, beautiful girl like her would be taken. She’s irresistible.

“No,” she says. She leans forward a bit, shrugging her shoulders so I can see the way her breasts are snuggled tight against each other. Is she pushing them out like that for my benefit? “I’ve tried before, but it just seems so pointless right now. None of them are worth talking to.”

“Oh?”

She shakes her head. “You’re different, though. I always like talking to you.”

A kind word from her makes me feel utterly invincible. How does she always do that?

“I like talking to you too,” I say. I shove my hands into my pockets to prevent myself from giving in to the overwhelming urge to touch her. “And if it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way about women.”

“Really? That’s good to know,” she says as she looks at me through long lashes. The cherry on top comes when she bats them at me after.

My breath catches in my throat. She’s always been flirtatious with me, but this is the first time I’ve considered that she really means it. If I’m not mistaken, she’s into me, too. Apparently, the crush I’ve developed on her isn’t as creepy as I feared. My borderline stalking, well… that’s a different story.

After a beat, Emily says, “I should get going. I want to get a list together before I see you tomorrow.”

“Always so proactive,” I say affectionately. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she says as she hops to her feet with a little bounce. “See you tomorrow, professor.”

As soon as she leaves the classroom, I find myself missing her. Just the suggestion of Emily being interested in me the same way morphs my interest in her into obsession.

I’ve sat in on her classes plenty of times. I love the little glimpses it gives me into her mind – plus, it soothes my ego to see her speak to her other professors with such detached professionalism.

But now, it doesn’t feel like enough. I’ve seen Emily the student all semester. Now, I want to know Emily the woman. I want to know where she goes, what she does, who she hangs out with... and if she looks at anyone else the way she does at me.

For the first time ever, I think about acting on the impulse to follow her to see what she does with her free time between classes.

Chapter 2

Emily

All semester long, I’ve thought about going to Dr. Flemming’s office hours, but I’ve never had anything to discuss. As soon as I saw him on the first day of class, I was instantly enamored with him. He’s exactly my type – tall and slim, a shock of jet-black hair, and a pair of bright blue eyes. Even though I know it’s because he has a dress code to adhere to, he’s always so put together with his pressed long-sleeve button-ups that he cuffs halfway up his forearm, tucking them into dress pants that cling to his ass and leave nothing to the imagination.

I spend every one of his classes trying to come up with a reason to stay after everyone leaves. There’s something about the way he handles himself that draws me to him inexplicably. He’s so passionate about literature, and I find myself hanging onto every word he says. He’s so different from other guys: smart, gentle, and serious.

I’ve gotten into the habit of coming prepared with something insightful to say about the material we’re discussing in hopes of impressing him. My friends think I’m worried about my grade with how hard I try, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. My grade is already perfect. I just want him to think I’m perfect, too.

Boys my age all think I’m a prude. In high school, my cold attitude earned me the nickname Elsa. But just being near Dr. Flemming sets me on fire. I can’t seem to help myself around him. Just one glance from those icy blue eyes, and I start throwing myself at him. Something about him, how strong he is and how safe he makes me feel, turns me from a dateless virgin into a wannabe slut.

Yesterday, I came to him pretending I didn’t know what book I wanted to do my review on. In reality, I’ve known I’ll be writing about Keep the Aspidistra Flying since the second week of class. I figured we’d have an intellectual conversation about George Orwell’s works, and I’d end it by telling him which way I was leaning. I wasn’t expecting him to tell me to come to office hours.

Now, I’m standing in front of his closed office door with my palms sweating. I know there isn’t any reason for me to be nervous; this is nothing more than an academic meeting, but I can’t stop thinking about what he said yesterday. It seemed like he was flirting back. Is my interest in him reciprocated?

Shaking that thought out of my head, I knock on the door three times in quick succession. After three seconds, he tells me to come in. I take a deep breath, then I step inside.

“Emily,” he says kindly, giving me a smile that warms me from the inside out. “It’s nice to see you on a Tuesday.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Dr. Flemming,” I say as I close the door behind me and settle into the comfortable armchair opposite him. I let my already-short skirt ride up higher on my thighs, hoping that he’ll look.

He does, and it sends a thrill through me. “Please,” he says, placing an arm on his desk, “call me Cooper. We aren’t in class.”

“Okay, Cooper,” I say with a grin, feeling giddy about the new informality.

“Much better,” he replies, that handsome smile growing larger. “So, tell me where your mind is. Which books are you drawn to?”

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