Page 47 of Bad Professor

“Okay. This is awkward enough—if you had been there when I woke up, I’m not sure how I would have handled it.”

Dexter laughs. “You just say whatever you feel. I like that.”

“I lived with a very firm filter for a lot of years. My therapist taught me that my feelings and opinions matter and that I shouldn’t shy away from speaking them. See? No filter. I probably shouldn’t have told her about the therapist.”

“You can tell me anything. Where were your daughters the other night?”

“With their father. When I started back to school last year, he took it upon himself to take the girls during the week and leave the weekends for me.”

“Did it help?”

“Sure, it made going to classes easier, but I’ve been at home with those girls for sixteen years. Take them away from me and it’s like cutting off an arm.”

Dexter looks sympathetic. “Are they the reason you haven’t dated?”

“That and a lack of interest.”

“There was no lack of interest the other night.”

My cheeks are warm. “I was only out with Brian because my friend set us up and I was too tired to argue.”

“I’m glad you didn’t or I would have never met you.”

“Do you go on lots of dates?” I wonder.

Something crosses Dexter’s face. “Not really, no. Teaching keeps me busy. My friends try to set me up, too, but it works just about as well as it did with you and Brian.”

“He called me the next day.” I don’t know why I tell him that. Like I told Dexter, I have no idea what I’m doing.

“He should have. What did you tell him when you left that night? I watched you go, you know. I felt like cheering.”

He says the things that give me all the feels. The fact he finds me attractive is enough; the way he casually brings it up like it’s no big deal gives me butterflies. Butterflies that are doing back flips.

I take another mouthful of the martini and fish out an olive. The way Dexter watches my mouth move is…

Disconcerting. But sexy as hell. It’s as if he wants my mouth somewhere else.

I want my mouth somewhere else too.

I want his hands on me.

“I told him my girls needed me,” I tell him, trying to get my mind off what I want him to do if his hands were on me.

“And then you went home and called me.”

I lick my bottom lip, tasting the olive. “I’ve never done that before,” I confess.

“So you said. Doesn’t mean you didn’t do a good job of it.”

“A good job of what?”

“Tempting me to want to have sex with you.”

“To have sex with me,” I parrot, and shake my head like it’s a foreign concept. I guess it is. “You wanted to have sex with me when you saw me in the bar with Brian?”

“I did. I also wanted to get to know you—which you can do without having sex—but it’s not as much fun.”

“I’m having fun,” I tell him. “And we’re not having sex.”

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