Page 6 of Perfect Professor

She glanced up to find him watching her with a small, knowing smile, as if he could sense her inner turmoil. Heat flooded her face for the hundredth time. How had she gotten herself into this mess?

“Of course,” she said, cursing the breathless quality of her voice.

He arched a brow, then chuckled. “No need to be so formal..”

She stared at him, her heart in her throat. This was dangerous ground they were treading, a line she knew they shouldn’t cross.

“Come to my office,” he said. “I know you aren’t liking your partner for this project. We can discuss it then.”

4

Adrianna’s knuckles rapped against the oak door, her heart pounding as loudly as the knocks.

When she entered, the familiar scent of sandalwood and leather-bound books enveloped her. She breathed it in, memories of tangled sheets and exploring hands flooding her senses.

The office was dimly lit, shadows dancing across the mahogany desk. Two buttery leather armchairs faced each other before a crackling fireplace, an invitation for intimacy.

Adrianna’s mouth went dry as she watched Mickey rise from behind his desk, his biceps flexing under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt.

How was she supposed to focus on Keats and Byron when she could still taste the salt on Mickey’s skin? She dug her nails into her palms, steadying her breath.

This was a mistake. She should have switched classes, avoided this room and the man in it at all costs. Because try as she might to be a good girl, one look at Mickey was enough to make her forget every rule.

Mickey cleared his throat, snapping her out of the memory. His gaze burned into hers, and she wondered if he remembered that night too, reliving the slide of their bodies and the ache of parting at dawn.

“Ms. Rose?” His voice was rough silk, stroking down her spine.

Adrianna clutched her books tighter, as if they could shield her from the force of her want.

This semester was going to be far more complicated than she had bargained for. And it had only just begun.

She perched on the edge of the leather chair, knees pressed together, and laid her books in her lap like a shield.

Mickey settled into the chair behind his desk, the picture of relaxed authority. The knot in Adrianna’s stomach twisted tighter.

How was she supposed to focus with him watching her like that, his eyes dark and fathomless? She dug her nails into her thighs, anchoring herself against the tide of memory and the longing threatening to drag her under.

“Professor Hanks, I owe you an apology.” Her voice emerged breathless and uneven. She swallowed, forcing steadiness into her tone.

“I had no idea you were teaching this class. But I cannot transfer to a different professor cause you are the only one teaching it this semester.”

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, and for a moment his expression darkened. Then it cleared, smooth and unreadable as glass.

“Think nothing of it, Ms. Rose. I understand this was...unintentional.” His fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the desk, the only outward sign of tension. “You’re here to learn, and I’m here to teach. Let’s keep our relationship professional - it’s for the best.”

She nodded, a jerky motion. “Of course. I’m here for the work, nothing else.” The lie scorched her throat. “It won’t be a problem again. You have my word.”

“See that it isn’t.” His eyes were flint and steel, piercing her defenses. “There are rules for a reason, Ms. Rose. Rules we would both do well to remember.”

A blush rose in her cheeks at the implication. She looked away, heat flooding her face, and rose to leave on unsteady legs.

This semester was going to be an exercise in torment - and she had only herself to blame.

Mickey cleared his throat, dragging his gaze from the sweet curve of her mouth. “Miss Rose, I’m glad we understand each other.” His voice was stiff, formal. “While I admire your dedication to learning, it’s imperative we maintain proper student-teacher boundaries. I understand you aren’t far from graduating and that’s important to keep in mind in situations like these.

“Of course, strictly professional.”

Liar, whispered a voice in her head. You’re not sorry at all. You want him as badly as he wants you.

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