Page 16 of Hot Professor (Tainted Professors)

Harrison is standing in front of me in nothing but navy lounge pants with a tie at the waist, a white cotton shirt and bare feet. How can this man look sexy in such casual clothing?

His eyes widen a fraction, surprise flickering across his features. Did he think I wouldn’t come?Maybe he didn’t really want me to.

Doubt seeps in. “Hi,”my voice is loaded with trepidation, but I try to fake bravado. “I hope I’m not too late.”

He shakes his head and takes a step back, allowing me to enter, as a slow, warm and welcoming smile spreads across his face. “Of course not, Ivy.”

The apartment isn’t what I pictured—it’s refined but lived in, with art that’s probably worth more than my tuition dotting the walls. I know I don’t know him that well yet, but it feels like Harrison, through and through—sophisticated but nowhere near ostentatious.

“Nice place.”I wander to the window, peering down at the city streets far below. “This view is incredible.” The city is lit up with an almost dizzying array of lights from various skyscrapers, streetlights, and billboards, creating a vibrant, almost magical image. I can even see the Chrysler Building.

“Thanks.”He joins me, close enough for me to catch his scent—something woodsy and intellectual if scents can be smart.

“Harrison,”I start, turning to face him, “how do you afford a place like this on a professor’s salary? Especially when you haven’t been workingthatlong?”I slap my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”I can feel the redness creeping up my neck to my face.

His chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. “Let’s just say, teaching isn’t my only asset.”

“What?”

I’m not sure what he sees on my face, but he laughs harder. “My family has money, Ivy. It’s nothing nefarious.”

“Oh.” It must be a lot of money if he can live like this.

“Come, sit,”he motions to the couch, and I’m thankful for the invitation to break the awkwardness between us as my tongue darts out to wet my lips.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

I shake my head, then change my mind. “Water would be fine. Thank you.” I don’t want anything to hinder my memory oftonight or increase the risk of me saying or doing anything else embarrassing.

While he walks over to the kitchen area, I take the opportunity to look around as I settle into the cushy chocolate brown leather couch. He’s got the largest television I’ve ever seen mounted over a gas fireplace on the opposite wall. The furniture is modern but very comfortable, with a few pops of color in the frames he used for the artwork on the off-white walls and the fabric on the two armchairs.

“I like your apartment. It’s comfortable, not at all stuffy.”

“Stuffy? I’m starting to think you have a few preconceived notions about professors.”

“Can you blame me? They’re usually much older than you, dress like my parents and don’t insist students call them by their first names.”

He joins me on the couch, handing me a glass filled with ice and water.“To be honest, you’re the first one I’ve asked to do that.”

Oh.

I tip it to my mouth and drain half, the cold liquid cooling the fire inside me only slightly.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Did you think I’d stand you up?”I tease, my voice threaded with a hint of nerves I can’t suppress.

Harrison’s gaze holds mine. “Honestly?”He ruffles the back of his hair, a casual gesture that makes my heart skip. “I wasn’t sure. I’m not sure what’s happening here, but how I feel—it’s intense. Scary, even.”

Hearing that emboldens me. “Harrison...”My fingertips trace down the side of the glass through the condensation that’s gathered. “No one has ever... You make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. I know it’s fast, but…”

It’s all the confession he apparently needs. He takes the glass from me and sets it on the beautiful slate-topped coffee table. Then he cups my cheeks and kisses me.

He sweeps his tongue over my lips and then gently encourages me to open for him. The soft pressure sends tingles down my spine. His hands slip into my hair, pulling me closer, and I melt into him. His touch is thrilling, his warmth enveloping me like a security blanket. I feel it in my bones, my heart racing against my chest as he leans into me, his body pinning me against the couch cushions.

And he smells so good, clean and fresh. He tastes like mint with a beer chaser. My mind races with the sensations coursing through my body, cataloging everything, and I gasp when he pulls back slightly. My hands reach for him, and my fingers curl into his shirt to keep him close.

“Tell me to stop, Ivy. Before this goes too far.”

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