Page 4 of Tangled with the Professor

“For you, too?”

“Once upon a time. Let me know if you ever need help. I’m here for you, Isabelle.”

My cheeks burn harder under his steady gaze and the generous offer. I thank him and decline, certain he’s only being polite. There’s no way he’d want to spend more one-on-one time with me. So why does he look a bit disappointed that I turned him down?

“Well, all right then,” he says, standing up.

The meeting’s over and I’ve been dismissed. I want to scream that I was just kidding and accept his offer. But it’s best if I leave before I do something embarrassing, and stand up, smoothing down my skirt.

When I look up, he’s standing by the door, his eyes following the motion of my hands on my thighs. He quickly looks up and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. Instead of looking away, he continues to burn me up with his gaze, and as I get to the door, he reaches for it.

But doesn’t turn the handle. I have to stop fast or bump into him. I’m only a few inches away, staring at his chest because I can’t look up and face him when I’m so close I can smell his spicy cologne and feel the heat emanating off of his big body. He still doesn’t move to open the door and I finally look up. Dark brown eyes meet mine, the intensity in them almost making me stagger back, but I’m rooted to the spot as if he’s magnetized. I can’t look away and now I’m the one swallowing hard.

His eyes drop to linger on my mouth, his own full lips parting as if he’s thinking the same thing I am. Wanting the same thing I do. My chest rises and falls rapidly as my heart tries to escape my rib cage, and suddenly, his hands are around my waist.

My body is tugged up tight against his hot, hard muscles and his lips come crashing down onto mine.

There’s not a single thought in my head exceptmore.I don’t even have time to feel self-conscious about not having a clue about what to do. Yes, I’m that person who had her nose in a book all through high school. My parents had financial troubles back then and I needed a scholarship if I was going to college. That meant gaining a reputation as no fun, don’t even ask, and that was fine with me. It carried on through my undergrad years since no one struck my fancy.

My first kiss was worth the wait. His mouth is strong and eager, but patient at the same time, slowly running his tongue along my lips until they fall open for him. As soon as our tongues touch, his grip on me tightens. My own hands run up his rock hard biceps and curl over his broad shoulders, tugging at his crisp cotton shirt.

“Isabelle,” he murmurs against my mouth, turning me so that I’m pressed against the door.

I can’t answer, but I writhe against him at the sound of my name when his tongue is pushing into my mouth. There’s a gush of pure lust in my core and I wrap my arms tight around his neck, lost completely to the feel and taste of him. He makes a low growling noise as I rub against the stiff rod that’s grown between us. I’m not sure if pressing even harder against it to draw that sensation blooming between my thighs out is smart, but that’s what I do, moaning as he slides his hands up my sides.

His thumbs brush over my breasts, making me gasp and tangle my fingers into his hair. It’s as soft as I imagined and as he teases my nipples with his thumbs, I arch my back, trying not to tear out a chunk. But what he’s doing to me has me transported. Who am I, where am I?

After much too short a time, he eases his lips from mine and slowly kisses down the side of my neck, his hands dropping back down to my waist.

I’m breathing hard, and barely recovered when he steps back, looking down at me with a mixture of sheepishness and absolute satisfaction. I reach to touch my lower lip, swollen from his end of day stubble, and find myself smiling at him.

He taps me on my nose and then smooths my hair behind my shoulders. “Until next time?”

I nod, still breathless, both sated from my first ever experience of making out, and wanting so much more. What does he mean by that question, coupled with that mischief dancing in his dark eyes? All I know is I can’t wait to find out.

Chapter 3

Mark

I look at the small vase of flowers I bought for Isabelle’s office. Are they too much? Not enough? They’re her favorite, bright pink dahlias, though she’s never actually told me as much. I can just tell by the way her eyes light up every time we pass them in the window of the florist on our way back from coffee meetings.

Yes, the crystal vase and cheerful blooms should put a smile on her face and that puts a smile on mine. If there’s one thing I can say for myself it’s that I never half ass anything. Not my job, my hobbies, or this—whatever this is—with Isabelle. Though we just kissed yesterday, I can’t help but want to make her feel special, and show her that it wasn’t a one time thing or a mistake. Over the last few weeks of working with her, she’s shown herself to be the woman of my dreams.

?She’s so fantastic, beautiful, smart, and capable that every moment we spend apart feels like an eternity. I find myself fantasizing about her, about us, constantly.

Isabelle belongs to me and me alone, even if she doesn’t know it yet. And there’s so much I want to do with her, so much that I’ve never wanted to experience with any other woman I’ve gotten entangled with before. Not just show her the world, but the deepest, and yes, darkest parts of me.

I settle back in my chair, and fantasies begin to run wild. Images of Isabelle coming into my office and locking the door behind her, an eager, shy smile on her face. I give her a command and as usual, she says, ‘Yes, Professor.’

But in my fantasy, I say, ‘Not Professor. Daddy.’

Her cheeks flame the way they always do, driving me wild to know she’s heating up for me. I get up and go to her side, press her against the bookshelf, my hand running up her thigh and under her skirt. My fingers pause at the edge of her panties as she writhes closer to me with her hot little body. Will she say it? Beg for more?

‘Yes, Daddy, please touch me.’

My eyes slam open at the sound of her real life footsteps in the hall outside. My cock is pressing hard against my pants from my imagination running wild. Is today the day I make it a reality? Make her my little girl?

She scurries, seeming more harried than usual. She’s particularly pretty today, in a pale blue blouse that’s primly buttoned all the way to the top, since she knows I like to slowly reveal her creamy skin one button at a time.

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