Page 9 of Lunar Crest University

She seems surprised by my question, her eyes widening as she gawks at me like she wasn’t expecting me to know it could be perceived differently. Of course, I knew. This job is important to me, yes, but I’m also passionate about British Literature. I havebeen ever since I was a child. It all depends on the reader—it can be tragic in that the characters die without hope or salvation, or heroic in the sense that they die without hope of resurrection. I would argue it’s brave, but something tells me she’ll disagree.

“I think it’s heroic.”

I’m temporarily stunned.

“Why?” I clear my throat as I recover.

“BecauseBeowulfis determined to accomplish what he seeks to do despite being on the precipice of death. He doesn’t care about resurrection. He cares about being brave, about getting the job done, no matter the cost. That feels pretty heroic to me.”

I stare blankly at her for a few moments before rounding my desk. Scooping up the stacks of papers in front of my laptop, I take a few sheets and hand them to the students at the end of each row to pass down the line. The sea of white cascades down the rows before I speak.

“Over the weekend, I want you all to write a response paper onBeowulf,” I instruct. “How did you feel about the characters? The text? Explain why you did or didn’t like it. Two pages on my desk by Monday morning.”

Chairs scrape against the floor as everyone eagerly gathers their things. I sit back in my creaky chair and watch the students leave the room. Much to my chagrin, my eyes search for her despite my attempt to fight it. My nostrils flare as I observe her curly-headed friend wrap his arm around her shoulders and ruffle her hair.

A pang shoots through my stomach to see her smile up at Levi. It’s a genuine smile—teeth flashing wildly, dimple on display as she shoves him away playfully. One I would never know because she found me fucked up in a dark alley at night. I didn’t have a chance from the start.

I don’t care.

That’s what I keep telling myself like a damn broken record. But as they walk down the steps, past the other rows of desks, my interest peaks when she waves the boy on, hanging back awkwardly as the rest of the students flee to their next class. I observe how she picks at the hem of her skirt, digging the top of her shoe into the floor before huffing as she reluctantly approaches my desk.

“Why do you keep singling me out?”

The fiery tone in her voice is back, and so is my erection.

“I was calling on you for an answer, Ms. Dunaway,” I retort coolly, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the desk, hoping to hide the tent in my slacks.

“People are going to start thinking you have something against me,” she says tempestuously, crossing her arms against her chest.

“And what would I possibly have against you?”

Finley peeks around to make sure we’re completely alone as she takes a step closer. “I know what happens when you’re not sitting behind that desk.”

I should demand she leave, but my temper flares before my rational mind can decide. This is nothing new—I often have trouble controlling my temperament. Flying out of the chair, I watch her flinch as the desk scoots when my thighs bump into it as I stand, rounding it quickly as my fingers grip her chin. Walking her backward until she’s pressed up against the nearest wall, I lean down to be at eye level with her.

“You don’t know anything,” I growl lowly. “Do you understand? Not a damn thing.”

I expect her to cower from me, but she doesn’t.

Heat sparks where my fingers touch her face, sending electricity through my hand and down my arm until it practically shocks my nervous system. My blood boils as I stare down at her, my heart pumping erratically in my chest as I breathe in thesame vanilla scent from her apartment. The surge that ripples through me is so powerful, I’m sure she can feel it too. And if she can’t, my unsteady exhale must be a dead giveaway thatsomethingdefinitely just happened.

“I know that you’re an asshole,” she whispers, all traces of fervency erased from her words under my touch. Her voice is velvet smooth.

I could snap her like a twig if I wanted, with just one sharp twist of my wrist. Wrap my fingers around her throat. Kiss her.

Fuck.

I release her suddenly, backing away from her until the back of my thighs hit the desk. Rubbing a palm down my face, I suck in a deep breath.

“You’re dismissed.”

“LikehellI am,” she snaps, and just like that, the heat in her eyes is back.

“Get out of my classroom, Finley.”

Please.

Turning away from her briskly, I grit my teeth as I dig my erection into the wood. I should’ve never touched her—now, every time I think about her jaw in my grasp, the blood will immediately rush to my dick. As if I need anything else to distract me.

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