Page 27 of Lunar Crest University

After listening to the faint sound of her writing irritably on the paper, the pencil clacking roughly against the desk, I can’t help but peek up at her through my glasses.

Her ample lips are twisted into a pout as she glares down at the quiz, her black hair cascading down her shoulders, falling in her face a few times before she blows it from her view. Her knee bounces impatiently, and the hem of her ruffled skirt inches higher and higher.

Mierda.

I’m brought back to reality as she stands swiftly from the desk, whisking up the paper and bringing it toward me, slamming it down as her nostrils flare. I raise my eyebrows dubiously at her blatant annoyance.

“There you go,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

The corner of my lip twitches.

“Something bothering you, Ms. Dunaway?” I ask, dropping my eyes to the quiz as I decide to grade it right then. “You seem upset.”

My eyes crinkle in amusement as she mutters a quickI’m finewhile I skim over her answers. They’re not nearly as bad as her other quiz, which only had two questions filled out—both far from correct. Making a few marks with my red pen, I jot down her letter grade on the top of the paper before turning it toward her.

Finley’s virescent eyes flicker to theB+.

“Thank you,” she mumbles.

The grade must’ve been enough to ease her irritability, because the frown lines disappear from her forehead as she relaxes a bit. If there’s one thing I know for certain about her, it’s that she seems to thrive off structure. Surely, not finishing her quiz on Monday had sent her into a spiral of inner turmoil. I picked up on it the moment I met her.

“Feel better?”

“I’mfine.”

My body moves before my mind can catch up with my actions. It feels like I’m watching myself in slow motion from afar, making another stupid decision as I lift from my chair to lean over the desk toward her. Keeping my eyes on hers, I reach out to gently tug her arms free from the tight hold they’re in over her chest. Her gaze drops to follow my movements, her arms falling to her sides.

“You seem pretty tense for someone who is apparently fine,” I comment lowly, inching back down into my seat.

My fingertips buzz where I touched her, and dammit, it only makes me want to do it again. The electricity. Theheat. I want more of it.

Finley nods, her lips parting as if she wants to speak, but instead, she clamps her mouth shut. Picking at her skirt, she clears her throat feebly as she glances reluctantly up at me. Obviously, she has something she wants to get off her chest, but she’s holding back.

It’s for the best.

“I’m fine,” she repeats after a beat. “I’ll see you on Friday, Professor Serrano.”

She turns to leave, and instinctively, my body jerks out of the seat again—my desk scooting across the floor as my thighs nudge it out of the way. The sound makes both of us flinch as I gruffly clear my throat. Rubbing my slacks, I lick my lips.

Have I lost my fucking mind?

“It’s okay if you’re not fine,” I say. “You know…you don’t always have to be.”

She peeks back over her shoulder at me, her eyebrows knitting together as she studies me. “Yes. I know.”

My chest heaves like I’ve just run a fucking marathon, my shoulders rising and falling with each breath. My brain has clearly left the building. I’m grasping for any ounce of sanity or rationale, but I can’t find anything to hold onto as I peer at her.

“Is that all, Professor Serrano?”

Her words sound like an invitation. Or is that my cock talking?

“We’re past niceties.” I cock my head. “Aren’t we?”

Fuck.

Shut the fuck up.

“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Are we?”

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