Page 7 of Emily: Hello Kitten

I cling to that Thursday as I run errands for the professor I’m assisting. She’s great, but I wish she’d let me grade or do more than offer office hours, check attendance, and get the things she forgets from her office.

Dr. Spence has connections, though. She’s linked with publishing houses, grad schools, and people I need to meet if I want a solid career in that field. So, I’ll fetch her coffee, her notes, even her laptop if she forgets, and I’ll do it with a smile on my face.

Until I get said laptop and find myself walking in on her and Dr. Hayes talking before Dr. Spence’s class starts.

She smirks at him, then beams when I walk in. “And here is my functioning brain. Have you met Emily Turner?”

“I’ve seen her in one of my classes,” he says as if it’s that simple. But it has to be that simple. Because that’s all that’s going on between us. Nothing else.

Dr. Spence takes my hand and tries to pull me closer. I move forward stiffly, pasting on a smile.

Dr. Spence sighs. “She’s an amazing writer. You’re lucky. Of course, I say that to all professors who get to have her in class. Whether it’s academic or creative, she’s a beautiful writer.”

“I look forward to seeing more of that,” Dr. Hayes says, his eyes burning through me until I feel breathless and want to obey whatever comes out of his mouth next. “I’m pleased to meet you, Clarissa Spence. I’ve been hoping to have more friends in the department.”

“You will,” she replies, then gasps. “Oh, I forgot the essays I graded.”

“I’ll get them!” I volunteer immediately.

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Dr. Spence says. “If you’d like to sit in, Adrian?”

“If only I could,” he says. “Another time.”

The second Dr. Spence leaves the room, he focuses on me. “Emily.”

“Is there something about class you want to discuss?” I ask immediately.

He takes a slow breath, then sets his bag down. He reaches in and hands me the paper I wrote on our reading. An A+ is in bright red across the page.

“Even though grades are delivered electronically, I still wanted to give it.”

I stare at it, then glower at him. “You'd better not be improving my grades just because—”

“I don’t grade based on personality or the past,” he says, his hand brushing mine gently. “You earned this, Emily.”

“No, I didn’t. I have at least six typos in there. I have a run-on sentence and—”

“You’re an exceptional writer. Typos and grammar issues are easy to edit. You have grad school-quality arguments and observations. That’s what got you the A,” he emphasizes despite the fact that his thumb is rubbing into my wrist.

I swallow and meet his eyes. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” He knows exactly what he’s doing, and that little hint of a smile proves it.

Stepping back is a totally normal thing to do if a professor touches someone, but I don’t want to. I force myself to think of him doing this with every other girl in class and manage to step back. He arches a brow.

“Something wrong?”“You know exactly what’s wrong. You’re bumping my grade up. You’re…” I glance at the open door. “I don’t want any special treatment.”

“And I’m not going to give you any.”

“Bullshit,” I growl, shoving my paper back into his hands. “Give this to me tomorrow and mark it down for the typos. Circle them, fix them. Rip my essay to shreds.”

Adrian’s eyes darken, and I see that warning in his gaze. I have a feeling that if the door were closed, if he wasn’t worried about Dr. Spence coming back in, his harsh palm would be coming down on my bare ass… again.

“If I remember right,” he says, edging closer as his voice stays a low, husky growl, “I was the one giving orders and you were following them eagerly.”

“When I was drunk. When you were a sexy stranger and nothing else. Now you’re my professor, and I’m not going to accept—”

“That is your grade, Emily,” he says evenly. “You had the best essay in class, and that’s how I grade. I cover all the names andread the papers. Yours was the top. You get the highest grade. Take it like a good girl.”

---