Chapter 1
Sterling
“Let me try to catch her number.” I study the pack of roller derby girls skating past, trying to find Belova. Killian and Liam, two of my fellow motorcycle club brothers, need a fiancée, and Belova could use some cash.
Find Belova—yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do.
What I’m actually doing is locking my gaze on Mila’s ass. The stretchy shorts don’t quite cover her round cheeks. When she rounds the corner, I shift my attention to her tight top that highlights her full breasts and narrow waist.
I struggle to find somewhere safe to look. Somewhere that lets me get control of my thoughts.
There’s nowhere safe. Her knee socks drive me fucking wild for a reason I can’t figure out. And her bright-pink plump lips are as seductive on the track as they are when she’s sitting in my classroom.
As seductive as they were when she was my son’s girlfriend.
I should stop looking at Mila. But she’s a masterpiece, and she has a brilliant mind inside of her perfect packaging.
I should stop thinking about Mila.
Killian and Liam continue talking, but their words blur in my ears. All I can think about is fucking Mila… and the many reasons I can’t.
Giving myself a hard mental shake, I try to pull it together enough to muddle through the rest of the conversation. I fail. The memory of a conversation I overheard Mila having with a friend haunts me.
Now all I can think about is how to help Mila with her financial problems. “You have to recommend Mila for the scholarship.”
My MC brothers fall silent and stare at me, confused. Rutherford, my roommate and fellow professor, shakes his head. “What the hell does that have to do with Killian and Liam approaching Belova about a fake engagement?”
Backtracking my gray matter, I clue them in. “The conversation we overheard between Mila and Belova. They were talking about learning camgirl stuff from Beatrix. Mila can’t be a camgirl.”
“She’d make a damn good one. I’d buy up—” A sharp jab to Rutherford’s ribs shuts him up.
“You know she’s off limits.”
“Chill, dude.” He leans forward, forearms on his knees as he returns his attention to the derby bout. “Just having a little fun.”
“Have a little respect for the fact that she was my son’s girlfriend.” Dropping my gaze to the team roster doesn’t help quell my own desires. I have the flimsy papers opened to the individual skater’s photos. Mila-nator gives a mischievous look to the camera. To me. It’s a like a challenge. Her feisty side.
“Was,” Rutherford emphasizes, pulling me from my downward spiral. “They broke up about the same time I moved in with you—ages ago.”
“A year ago. But since you bring up ages, etch it in your brain that she’s twenty years younger than us. And she’s one of our students.”
“She finished my classes.” Rutherford’s thought this through. As have I, apparently.
“University policy… Intimate relationships between students and professors are forbidden through a year after the student graduates.” I rub the back of my neck. My legs bounce restlessly. What’s going on? Am I worried Rutherford will rush off the bleachers, and I’ll have to execute a flying tackle to stop him from going after her?
Rutherford’s a respectable guy, but he always has a pulse on which boundaries need to be pushed. He’s a strategic change-maker, not a caveman—which is what I feel like.
He straightens and looks me up and down. “Are you that worried about her being a camgirl?”
I’ve never come so close to admitting my feelings for her, and now, realizing Rutherford is having them too… My inner caveman just snorted crack.
Rutherford faces the track. He keeps his voice quiet. “Be honest with me.”
“Fine. I don’t think she should be a camgirl.” That’s vague enough.
“Does it bother you because you see her as the little girl who became your son’s girlfriend, or because…” He juts his chin toward her as she skates past. “You think of her in other ways.”
About the time my teeth threaten to crack, I relax my jaw and draw a huge breath. “Don’t mention my son. Josh hasn’t talked to me in a year.” How many ways can I avoid the full truth?