Page 20 of Tempting Teacher

“Good morning class.” The entire room grows silent as he continues, his eyes finally leaving mine to scan the room. “I’m Professor Alexander Walker, your instructor for this course.”

Holy shit! Xander, my Xander, is a fucking professor at Columbia! That’s his day job? There is absolutely no way I can be stuck in a classroom with him for the next three months.

I close my gapping mouth, my knuckles turning white as I grip the pencil in my fingers, my eyes widening as his meet mine again. “I’m so looking forward to teaching you more over the next few months.”

An almost imperceptible smirk plays across his lips as he continues, his words conveying so much more than others can be aware, as he turns and begins writing on the white board. So much for that new chapter I thought I was starting.

Chapter Ten

~Xander~

I knew I shouldn’t be taking any pleasure in the shocked expression she’s wearing. Even worse, I hate that my heart stutters upon seeing her again. I had missed her. It had been three long weeks of torture. I remembered every touch, every kiss, every moan that tumbled from her puffy lips. I craved more. And it took every ounce of my self control not to call her, not to run back to her apartment, not to take her again during these last three weeks. But, once I got my student roster and saw her name, another line had been drawn that I knew couldn’t be crossed. This was going to be the longest damn semester of my life.

I try like hell, but can’t seem to stop shifting my gaze in her direction every thirty seconds. She no longer looks like she’s seen a ghost, but it’s clear, from the glint shining from her narrowed eyes, she’s not happy to see me. And who the hell is that sitting next to her? They seemed to be pretty chummy, sharing cheeky grins, completely oblivious to my arrival when I strolled into the room. Watching her expression change from one of joy to pure shock was the only thing that tampered the flash of heat burning in my gut.

Somehow, I manage to get through the class agenda, nearly shouting in relief when I dismiss the class. My consolation is short lived however when Summer heads in my direction instead of the exit.

“Xander,” she starts, my hand raising, my palm and fingers flat, indicating she should stop.

“You mean, Professor Walker.” I arch a brow, with a tilt of my head, hoping she understands my silent reprisal. “Perhaps we should take this discussion to my office, Ms. Knight?”

Her lips purse in a thin line, but she nods her agreement, following as I lead her to a door at the back of the class, and into a hallway. We’re both silent, our footsteps echoing against the narrow walls as we walk. I stop when I reach my door, pull the key from my pocket, turn it in the lock, then push it open. I move inside, pressing myself flush against the wood, motioning for her to come in. She breezes past me, her fingers clutching her book bag at her side, her scent wafting over me. I close my eyes and inhale, absorbing every molecule of her light, floral aroma floating in the air around me. My dick twitches at the memory her smell evokes, my lids flying open as I turn to adjust myself while shutting the door firmly.

When I spin around, I find myself mere inches from her, halting me in my tracks, a frown tugging my mouth down. I step to her left, moving behind the safety of my desk, and sit down. She twists her body, her eyes tracking my every move, but she stays in place.

“Summer, please, take a seat.” I point to one of the chairs on the other side of my desk.

Her face scrunches up as she continues to analyze me, but she does as requested, and slides into the chair closest to her, shifting her book bag to her lap.

“You’re a professor?” The question falling from her full, pouty lips laced with incredulity.

“It would appear so.” I shrug my shoulders, resting my elbows on the surface, steepling my fingers. “Because here you sit, in my office.” I let out a small huff, grimacing as I shake my head and continue my train of thought out loud. “As my student.”

“But, why?” Her brow creasing in confusion.

“Why, what?” I counter, not sure which part of my life she might be asking about.

“Why are you an escort if you have this?” She waves a hand around my office, her gaze taking in the shelves of books, the white board, a calendar on the wall, the laptop on my desk, before landing back on me.

“I never made it a secret that being an escort was a part time gig, nor that I enjoyed it.” I fold my hands in front of me, meeting her stare dead on.

“But, you’re a professor. At Columbia. One of the best colleges in America.” She scrunches her nose up, contempt written on her face. “Isn’t that a bit of a conflict?”

“How would it be a conflict if I keep the two separate?” I challenge.

“One is a respected position, and the other, well, the other is seedy!” She exclaims, her brow furrowing.

“You didn’t think it was too seedy when you wanted me to give you what you needed.” My voice dark.

Her face softens, her chin lowering, one side of her mouth tilting down. “Don’t spin this around, Xander. Don’t turn what happened between us into something dirty.”

“You’re the one insinuating what happened was dirty.” I counter. She’s silent, her gaze intent as she continues to assess me. Not sure where to take this conversation, I gage on the side of professionalism. “It’s Professor Walker, or if you prefer, Alexander, when we’re on this campus.” I instruct, making it clear what my role will now be to her, knowing full well I’m being an asshole.

Her posture turns rigid, small creases forming around her eyes as they narrow, her tone venom laced. “So, Professor, how do you propose we handle this situation?”

“Which situation would that be, Ms. Knight?” I drum my fingers across the top of my desk before shifting back in my seat. “The fact that we’ve fucked, that I’m an escort, or that I’m now you’re teacher.”

Her mouth falls open, and Jesus Christ if it doesn’t make me want to rip my zipper open and shove my cock down her throat. She recovers quickly, even if the pink color staining her cheeks defies her confident response. “All of it! How are we supposed to behave?”

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