Page 11 of Perfect Professor

Adrianna laughed, the sound like velvet against his skin. “Until next time, Professor.”

With a toss of her curls, she sashayed out of the room, leaving Mickey alone with his forbidden thoughts.

Mickey dragged a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. How was he supposed to survive another day of Adrianna’s torment? Her flirtatious behavior was pushing him to the brink of madness. He couldn’t think of anything but her.

Instead of standing in the empty lecture hall, he figured it would be best to head back to his office and try to get some grading done.

Mickey sat at his desk, staring blindly at the stack of papers in front of him. But his mind was elsewhere, filled with visions of Adrianna that made it impossible to concentrate.

The memory of her lips, soft and seeking against his, haunted him. The feel of her body in his arms, curves that fit him perfectly. The scent of her skin and hair, floral and intoxicating.

He wanted her with an ache that went bone deep. Wanted to peel away that scrap of fabric she called a dress and discover the secrets beneath. Wanted to make her sigh his name again and again.

With a groan, Mickey raked his hands through his hair. This was madness. He was her professor, for God’s sake. Taking advantage of his position and seducing a student was completely unethical.

But when it came to Adrianna, he seemed to lose all reason and control. She had awakened a hunger in him that refused to be denied. A hunger that was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

Mickey remained torn between duty and desire, his inner battle reflected in the restless prowl of his steps. Adrianna had slipped under his defenses, exposing a vulnerability he’d thought long buried.

With her, he wanted to be more than a professor. He wanted to be a man, passionate and free. And yet, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was his student. No matter how much he might wish otherwise, that barrier would always remain.

Sighing, Mickey came to a stop by the window and gazed unseeingly at the shadows gathering in the quad below. The war within him was far from over. But when it came to Adrianna, he was afraid the battle might already be lost.

8

Adrianna paused in the doorway, her heart pounding as she gazed at Mickey Hanks.

She was dressed to kill. This was a dangerous game she was playing, but the thrill of the forbidden only made her want him more.

Mickey looked up from the stack of essays he was grading, his glasses sliding down his nose. Adrianna bit her lip, watching the play of emotions across his face - surprise, desire, panic.

“Adrianna, what are you doing here?” His voice was rough with restraint.

She sauntered into the room, hearing the door click shut behind her. “I couldn’t stay away.”

He stood up so quickly his chair toppled over. “This is madness. You have to leave, now.”

But she could see the truth in his eyes, the hunger that matched her own. She slid her hands up his chest, fisting them in his shirt. “Make me.”

A groan eluded him as his resolve crumbled. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him. “Adrianna, you drive me to distraction.”

Triumph flooded her, even as a new ache blossomed low in her belly. She tilted her head up, her lips a whisper from his.

“Then stop fighting it, Mickey.”

When his mouth claimed hers, hot and demanding, she knew she had won. The thrill of the forbidden had led them to this point of no return, and she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Not when being with him felt so right.

She opened her mouth under his, deepening the kiss. His hands slid down to grip her rear, pressing her tighter against him. She could feel his desire straining against her belly, and it made her dizzy with need.

He broke away, chest heaving. “This is wrong. I could lose my job, my career...”

She placed a finger over his lips. “Shh. No one will know. It can be our secret.”

The struggle in his eyes made her ache. She wanted him to give in, to choose her above all else.

Finally, he growled and captured her mouth again. She gasped into the kiss as he lifted her onto the desk, papers and books scattering. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing the hem of her dress higher.

“So beautiful,” he muttered, lips skimming down her neck. “And so wicked.”

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