Page 19 of My Forbidden Professor

“We’ll need to get onto the JSTOR database,” he says.

He opens a spreadsheet of available articles and I dare to dream that one day, ours will be published alongside consummate professionals such as Thomas H. Davenport and Cathy O’Niel. It doesn’t take me long to slide closer to him as more names reel me in. I tap the screen, excitement washing away the lingering fatigue. “That one!”

He brings up the article I pointed to as we begin to read information on leveraging big data for competitive advantage, an analysis of emerging trends on business analytics. I read how various companies across different industries harness the power of big data to gain a competitive edge. I read through a comprehensive analysis of current methodologies and technologies and study how the authors provide insights into data-driven strategies in shaping market dynamics and decision-making applications.

Something pings in my head. The information is good, but for our dissertation, I need case studies. “We need the encyclopedia of business analytics and data science.”

Jacob follows me between the shelving. It’s dark back here, but I’d know the height and width of these books in my sleep. I kneel, fingers tracing the hard cover of the tome I want before I pull it out.

The book is heavy and I’m more tired than I realized. The corner catches on the rail and I reach out to stop it tumbling onto my boot. Before it can do so, Jacob drops to one knee and catches the book. He slots it back into place, his warm fingers brushing mine. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

I wait for him to move away, but he doesn’t. He stays there and the bubble of air settles around us once again. The world contracts.

“Jacob…”

“Why won’t you tell me anything about yourself?” he asks.

I don’t expect him to ask that and it sends a charge of adrenaline through my system. “Because there’s nothing to tell.”

He reaches out, fingertips trailing my cheek. My heart hammers as I lean against the bookshelf, trapped between Jacob’s hard body and the books at my back. “I don’t agree. I think there’s a whole universe of things to learn about you.”

He leans close enough that his breath mingles with mine. Close enough that if I tilt my head my lips would brush his. He stills and I vaguely realize he’s waiting for me. Giving me time to pull away if I want to.

I give into the urge rising through me and stay where I am.

Too hard to do anything else.

Don’t want to.

“It would be a small universe,” I whisper.

I shiver as his fingers find their way down the column of my neck and his palm firms on my nape. His eyes flare and I’m lost in startling blue. I can’t stop from closing that last little space between us. My lips press against his and a shivery breath steals out of him. “When are you going to learn there’s nothing small about you?”

His fingers twine in my hair, tilting my head as his tongue traces the seam of my lips. I part them on a sigh and he takes advantage, sweeping into my mouth, tasting me, touching me in a way that smashes through my sorry excuse for willpower.

I melt against him, my hands clutching his shirt as every thought scatters from my mind. All I can do is feel as a moan escapes from deep inside me. The sound seems to encourage him and he deepens the kiss.

I fall. Tumble through space as though we really are surrounded by our own universe. I never thought a kiss could be like this. I’ve known nothing compared to this.

His hand burns on my cheek and he pulls back, his chest rising and falling hard. He cups the side of my face, his eyes dark. Dangerous.

“Tell me to stop, Steph.” His voice is rough as sandpaper and thick with emotion. “Please. Tell me now before I can’t.”

I should tell him to stop. This is a bad idea. This is the thing that will lead to more hurt. For both of us. But the look in his eyes is enough to quiet the logical part of my brain. For just this moment, I want to forget who I am and how I’m supposed to behave.

“I won’t,” I whisper.

Whatever is between us has only one ending, but before the inevitable I want to experience what it could be like for a man to want me for who I am. Not what I am. Or what is in my father’s bank account.

His thumb presses on my lips, smoothing over the skin before he leans down. His lips close over mine in a soft caress, as though I’m something precious. Something cherished. Something that he doesn’t want to break.

This will hurt. But that will come later. After this once-in-a-lifetime affair.

After I know what it’s like.

His eyes meet mine, searching, as though he needs confirmation that this is really what I want.

I want all of Jacob. Not the professor. Not a man who’s going to be careful with my tender feelings. I bury my fingers in his shirt, clenching hard. I don’t want him to misunderstand. This is me. This is now.

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