Page 44 of Bad Professor

But I can’t help but smile as she approaches, sliding out of the booth to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

I want to smell her as a well. Creepy, maybe, but… cookies.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

We both sit down, the table a looming obstacle between us. There’s an uneasy silence as we stare at each other. Is she thinking the same thing I am?

“I don’t know how to do this,” she confesses with a nervous laugh.

Apparently, she is not thinking the same thing I am. “Let’s start with that, then,” I decide. “Why doesn’t a woman as beautiful and sexy know what to do on a first date?”

“This really isn’t a normal first date,” she counters, fidgeting with the cutlery rolled up in a paper napkin. “I mean, we… you know.”

Yeah. I do know. “We did.” I nod, and try not to smile like, you know, was the best thing ever.

“And I’m in your class. I’m your student.”

That sits much heavier, falling right in the middle of the table and spreading like someone dropped a glass of water and it’s dripping onto both our laps. Tilly’s words do the same thing as a glass of water—my cock that hardened as soon as I kissed her cheek and that one little word makes it all go away.

“It’s not the best situation,” I admit reluctantly.

“Then why are we here?”

I don’t know what to say to that without being honest. Fully transparent. I should tell her about my past, what’s at stake for me if it’s discovered that I’m dating one of my students.

But I can’t.

Because what I know about Tilly suggests that if I tell her anything, she’s going to walk out of here without a backward glance, and I’ll never get another chance.

I want another chance. I want it so badly. I want the feel of Tilly in my arms again, but I also want more time to know her. To find out what’s behind the sweet smile. To discover who hurt her and why.

And protect her, so it will never happen again.

I’m actually shocked by the protectiveness that surges up. So I tell her the truth, but not all of it. “Because I can’t stay away.”

“From… me?”

Like it’s the most insane idea.

“Yes, Tilly, from you.” I reach for her hand, not wanting to wait another minute to touch her. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I want my hands on you again. I want my mouth. I see you in class and I want to know why you’re there, how you got to that lecture hall with me. I want to know everything. I can’t stay away.”

“Dexter…”

I trace circles on her hand with my thumb. “That’s what you’re in for if you stay for a drink. I’m interested, Tilly. Intrigued. Fascinated, even. I’m going to draw the line at obsessed, but I can’t promise to stop at that if I ever get to be inside you again. I want that.”

I smile ruefully, worried that I’ve gone too far.

Tilly stares at our hands. “I… want that too,” she says in a hesitant voice. “I’m interested, Dexter, only I don’t know…”

“What don’t you know?”

She meets my gaze and I see the want in her eyes.

I also see the wariness.

And that, surprisingly, is why I want to try with Tilly. Because the other girls—women—that let in my life showed no restraint. They were in it for the excitement. The adventure. There was no holding back with them.

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