Page 13 of Arrogant Professor

Fuck.

My throat went dry and my chest tightened. I clenched my fists, fighting to remain focused on the class. And this damned poetry wasn’t helping. Talking about bright eyes and kissing and the lives of lovers tangled together.

When the class was finally over, I fully expected Elle to fly out the door. Instead, she stayed in her seat until the last student filed out and we were alone.

Dangerously, wonderfully alone.

I leaned back against my desk and tucked my hands into my pockets.

“You dropped my class, didn’t you?”

Elle shrugged and propped her feet on the seat back in front of her.

“Wounded pride makes you do stupid things.”

“If every college student dropped out of their classes over wounded pride, these halls would be empty,” I countered.

She shifted in her seat and glanced down, studying the toes of her boots.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Give me the benefit of the doubt,” she replied. “I wish you would just…rip into me and tell me what a moron I was.”

I ran a hand through my hair and took a step forward, but I stopped at the stairs that led up into the rows of desks. She was not entirely to blame for the situation between us, since I had kissed her back. But had she noticed? And if I pointed it out, would that only encourage her to pursue me with the belief we had an intimate connection?

“Would you feel better if I scolded you for your actions when you are already perfectly well aware of how detrimental they were?” I offered.

Elle groaned and dropped her head back.

“See? You’re so…patient. And logical. It’s infuriating.”

“It’s not my job to punish you, Miss Roche,” I said.

She fiddled with her sleeves, shrinking into herself. Maybe a change of subject would help. That kiss was obviously eating her alive. She needed to focus on school again.

“What are you studying?” I asked.

“Business admin,” she muttered with all the enthusiasm of a wet blanket.

I frowned, confused.

“So, what are you doing in my class?”

She shrugged, plucking at a stray thread on her sleeve.

“I just…like it, that’s all. I get decent grades. It’s the only class that I’m not flunking.”

There it was again. Dropping hints that she was burdened with suffocating expectations.

“Why don’t you change your major?” I suggested.

She snorted a dry laugh.

“I would be branded an embarrassment to the family name if I did that.”

“No one can dictate what you do with your life, Miss Roche. Only you.”

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