Page 23 of Perfect Professor

They lay in a tangle of sweaty limbs, the only sound in the room, their harsh breathing as it evened out.

Adrianna traced idle patterns on Mickey’s chest, her cheek pressed over his heart. She could feel its steady beat beneath her skin, and took comfort in the sound.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even. She knew that. Knew they could lose everything if they were caught.

But she also knew that she didn’t want to give this up. Didn’t want to give him up. Not again.

She tilted her head up to look at him, tracing the lines of his face with her gaze. The face she had memorized long before the days of him being her professor.

“There’s something here, Mickey,” she said. “Something real. It’s not just...”

“Lust?” he supplied, though his tone was gentle. Questioning.

Adrianna shook her head. “No. It’s more than that and you know it. We can’t keep denying this.”

Mickey was silent for a long moment, eyes searching hers. She could see the moment he relented, the tension bleeding from his expression as he pulled her closer.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I don’t want to either.”

Adrianna’s heart swelled, and she stretched up to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

“We’ll figure this out,” she promised. “Together. No more running away from this.”

Mickey smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “No more running,” he agreed. “You’re stuck with me now, Rose.”

Adrianna nuzzled into his side, lips curving. “Looks like we’re both stuck.”

And for the first time, the thought of being stuck with Mickey Hanks didn’t seem so frightening after all.

15

Mickey whistled a cheerful tune as he made his way through the empty halls of the English department. The familiar scents of aged wood and dusty books instantly lifted his mood, as they did every morning.

He unlocked the door to his lecture hall and began arranging the worksheets for his classes. As he worked, his thoughts drifted to Adrianna and the passionate hours they’d spent together the night before. Her soft skin, her breathy moans, the way she’d clung to him, utterly spent in his arms...

A ping from his phone interrupted the pleasant memories. He checked the notification and his heart sank. An email from Dean Whittaker, requesting to see him before classes.

Mickey swallowed hard, dread pooling in his stomach. They’d been careful, so careful. But Whitaker was shrewd, and last night with Adrianna had been reckless. He had a sickening feeling their forbidden romance was about to be exposed again.

He stood motionless for a long moment, torn between staying hidden in the safety of his lecture hall or facing the dean to determine his fate. With a heavy sigh, he steeled himself and made his way to Whitaker’s office.

Each step down the hall amplified his anxiety. By the time he reached the dean’s door, his heart was pounding. He gave a cursory knock and let himself in.

Whitaker looked up from his desk, peering at Mickey over the rim of his glasses. “Professor Hanks. Thank you for coming.” His tone was neutral, giving nothing away.

Mickey swallowed hard. “Of course, Dean Whitaker. How can I help you?” He was proud. His voice came out steady despite the panic rising in his chest.

Whitaker folded his hands on the desk, fixing Mickey with a piercing stare. “It’s come to my attention that you are still engaged in an inappropriate relationship with a student. Would you care to explain?”

Mickey shook his head. “I have nothing to explain.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was futile. Whitaker already had his evidence.

The dean’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so? Then how do you explain these?” He slid two photos across the desk.

Mickey’s heart nearly stopped. There, captured in vivid color, were images of him and Adrianna, locked in a passionate embrace on his front porch. They had been so lost in each other.

His face flushed with heat as he stared down at the evidence of his misdeeds. There was no talking his way out of this. The photos were irrefutable proof of his relationship with Adrianna—a relationship that violated every ethical code of conduct.

He dragged his gaze up to meet the dean’s icy stare. “I can’t.” Was all he said, the fight draining out of him. He had nowhere left to run. It was time to face the consequences.

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