Page 20 of Tenure

“Here,” he says, plucking the pencil from my fingers and looking over my notes. “Y yields a new formula. It’s a fourth-order rule to provide stability to the equation . . .”

He starts breaking apart the formula into sections, explaining the basic principles of each and how they intersect, layering in the theory of the Runge-Kutta method as he talks. It’s kind of like watching an artist paint from scratch, the numbers and letters filling up the page in logical boxes that make my brain fuckingsing,even as hungover as it is.

“Understand?”

I nod, because I do, but I must look a little dazed because he frowns at me and hands me back the pencil.

“Prove it.”

My heart pounds a little, but I scratch out the next equation and break it down just like he did. I stumble a little, this methodbrandfucking new to me, but refer back to his notes twice before I push through.

When I’m done, I put my pencil down gently on the page and stare at the table, afraid to look at him.

“Kiernan?”

I keep staring at the table. “Yeah.”

“Get back in my fucking bed.”

15

James

Watching her solve that equation is possibly the sexiest thing I’veeverseen a woman do, and my erection is literally screaming at me to throw her over my shoulder and fuck her until shebleeds.

“What?” she whispers, finally raising her big brown eyes to look at me, her cheeks as pink as a cartoon.

I stand up, not bothering to hide the bulge in my pants, grip her elbow, and haul her up.

“I said get in my bed.”

“James, I—”

I take a step back, giving her a little space. This is it. This is the moment she can choose to walk away or not. But if she comes in there,I’m never letting her leave.

I wait, patiently, while she looks up at me with a mixture of confusion and heat scrawled all over her pretty little face. But most noticeably, and surprisingly, isnerves.

Yeah, baby, I’m not a high school boy. I’ll do you right.

Her eyes run down my chest and torso, pausing at my hips before dropping to my cock. Her breathing accelerates and my patience is wearing thin.

Tick fucking tock, Kiernan.

But she stands there, paralyzed by indecision, and I think about her dirty hands and knees from last night, her disheveled shirt.

Everything cools except my temper.

I take a deep breath and another step back. She blinks, looking up at me, and her soft brown eyes almost have me dropping to my knees.

Shit. I’m pushing too hard.

She’s staring at me, searching my face for something. But before I can think too hard about what I just told her to do, I push past her to head down the hall.

“I need a shower,” I bite out. “Bloody eat something.”

I shut the door to my bathroom a little too hard, angrily flipping on the taps to my steam shower and ripping my shirt off over my head. I step into the scalding hot spray, but my hard-on isn’t deterred. I press my forehead to the tile, back burning, and try to calm myself down.

In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve fingered ahigh school studentin front of another staff member, jerked off in my office, seriously considered murdering someone, driven a drunk,possibly underaged,girl to my apartment, and just as good as ordered her to bend over so I can fuck her.

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