Page 5 of Lessons in Desire

I breathe through the desire, slipping on a smirk. “Well, after this morning, I think I have the right to be disappointed. I was told that I was getting someone who was as competent as they are knowledgeable.” I lean forward. “It was the only reason I said yes to a sophomore TA.”

Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink. “Yes, well I thought I was getting a professor who wasn’t such a jackass.” She gasps, her hands shooting to her mouth as if to grab back the words. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

If anyone else were to speak to me like that, I’d have them barred from my class in a second, but her words only make me harder, something ancient inside me excited at the prospect of her.

My gut tugs and I smirk harder. “No, please, tell me what you really think.”

Her hands cover he eyes, her cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry. Look can we please just start over and pretend everything up until now didn’t happen?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Her blue eyes peek out from her fingers.

I shrug. “I’m not one to hold a grudge.” Which isn’t true, I can hold a grudge better than anybody but for her, I’ll make an exception. “And anyway, you’re my TA. We’re going to have to work closely together.” And isn’t that the truth. I’m going to have to see her and resist the urge to fuck her over my desk, on my couch, against the wall … so many options.

My cock throbs.

She bites her lip, worrying the plump, tender skin and I’ve never felt so envious. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I’ll be the best TA you’ll ever have.”

“Good. I expect that.” I slide over a folder of papers. “Here’s my class schedule for this semester. I expect you to make yourself available to me whenever I require you to be.” She nods and takes down notes as I talk. “I also expect you to be available after every Friday seminar for a two-hour briefing for the following weeks classes and to catch up on grading papers or preparing class materials.” The words pass my lips before I can bite them back, before I can consider how unnecessary it would be. In reality, we could meet briefly meet once a week and she could do all the other stuff in her own time, but I don’t care. I want more time with her.

She nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Do you need me to prepare anything for this week’s class?”

“No. You can observe for this week, and we’ll go over everything on Friday. It’s mostly all introductory bullshit anyway.” My brows furrow at her shocked expression. “What?”

“I’ve never heard a professor swear before.”

I laugh. “Well, you should get used to it. My mother says I swear like a sailor.”

She smiles and something clenches at the sight of it which is … new. I shut that shit down real fast. It’s one thing to want to fuck her, it’s another to get all soft over her.

I stand and she follows. “Anyway, that’s all I have to give you for now. I’ll see you on Friday for our first class.”

She holds out her hand. “Thank you, Professor Callaway.” She says, her voice gentle and soft like the tender kiss of silk against my skin.

“It’s Asher.” I say, unable to resist bringing us that little bit closer. When I take her hand, I hear her breath catch and my heart pulses faster, like every reaction is tethered to her, mine reacting to hers.

“Asher.” she says and then drops my hand, taking a step towards the door. “See you Friday.” She whispers and then she’s gone and I sigh into the empty room, savouring the scent of her.

Chapter Four

Evelyn

After a week full of maths and finance lectures, it’s finally Friday, the day of my first Art History seminar. Part of me is terrified and I wish it was nerves from being a TA for the first time, but it isn’t. It’s my reaction to Asher that’s causing the fear to flood my system.

Since our meeting, I haven’t been able to get him out of my head. Which is ridiculous. He may be hot, but hot men come and go. My brain knows that, so why can’t I get my pulsing heart to understand? He’s followed me all week, his eyes flashing with every pulse of want and need that flushes through me.

It’s pathetic.

I grit my teeth, determined to get over this silly little crush and focus. I’m sitting inside his seminar room, fifteen minutes early, ready for the class to start. There are two desks at the front, one in the middle I’m assuming is his, and another set off to the side and further back which I think is mine. I really can’t wait. I know a lot of about Art History, but nothing beats the expertise of someone like Asher. After our meeting, when I knew his first name, I looked him up. Abel wasn’t exaggerating when he called him a gallery owning hotshot. According to Wikipedia, he owns two galleries, one in LA and one in New Orleans and he’s well known in the art world for discovering new talent. To be able to learn from someone whose worked with the latest talent is … it’s a dream come true.

“Is this Art history?” A deep voice asks from the doorway and my head snaps up. A tall jock-type is standing at the door, his hand pressed into his sandy blonde hair.

I smile. “Yep.”

“Are you...” He pauses, looking confused. “Are you Professor Callaway?”

I laugh, understanding his confusion. “Oh no, I’m Evelyn, his TA.”

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