Page 18 of Deviant Obsession

"Thanks for that terrifying imagery."

"Just calling it like I see it. You need to shut this down hard before it escalates."

I swirl the remaining wine in my glass as I contemplate her warning, watching the deep red liquid catch the low bar lighting. "What do you think he'd do if I got a restraining order?"

"Probably frame it and hang it on his wall as a trophy." Nat's tone is light, but when I glance up at her with a semi-amused scoff, there's genuine concern in her eyes. "Seriously though, be careful. Those frat-fest pretty boys aren't used to taking no for an answer."

"Don't I know it." The wine glass is empty now, and Nat immediately signals to her coworker for a refill. "Every time I think I've made it clear I'm not interested, he just...amps up his game. Like my rejection is some kind of foreplay."

"Classic narcissist move." Nat grumbles, accepting the fresh glass from her colleague with a nod. "They think every no is just a yes waiting to happen."

"Well, he's going to be waiting a long time." I accept the new glass gratefully. "I'd rather die alone and be eaten by cats than give him the satisfaction."

"That's my girl." Nat bumps her water bottle against my wine glass in a mock toast. "Now, speaking of satisfaction..." Her eyes take on a dangerous gleam. "Tell me about your meeting with Professor Hottie today."

The wine suddenly feels much warmer in my throat, and I can feel a traitorous heat creeping up my neck that has nothing to do with alcohol. "Nothing much to tell."

"Oh please." Nat's grin turns predatory. "Your face is doing that pinchy-thing it does when you're hiding something good. Loosen those lips, girl. Stat."

I fidget with my wine glass, suddenly fascinated by my own fingerprints on the smudged surface. "I’m not hiding anything. I just went to his office hours to discuss my paper."

"Uh huh." Nat's not buying it for a second. "And that's why you're blushing like a virgin in a sex shop?"

"I am not…" But I can feel the heat in my cheeks intensifying. I curse my pale complexion for the millionth time and its infuriating betrayal of my every damning emotion. "It was purely academic."

"Sure, it was." She leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially as she drapes her arm over the back of my seat. "Come on. The way that man looked at you last week is definitely not in the faculty handbook."

"I’m sure it's all in my head," I protest weakly, but even I can hear the uncertainty. "He's just...intense. With everyone."

"Bitch, please." Nat takes another sip of water, sculpted eyebrows raised. "I've seen how he looks at other students.Trust me, you're getting the special edition Professor Shaw experience."

The wine must be hitting harder than I thought, because I find myself wanting to tell her everything—the loaded pauses, the lingering looks, the way his voice dropped an octave when he suggested I needed toexplore my boundaries.

But I can't. Speaking it aloud would make it real, and if it's real, I'll have to deal with it. Besides, Nat would probably march straight to his office and demand he make an honest woman of me.

Or that he takes her instead…

"I’m beyond jealous. I'd let that man teach meanysubject," Nat continues, fanning herself dramatically while she proves the point I didn’t have to make out loud. "Hell, he could give me a three-hour lecture on watching paint dry and I'd be front row, taking detailed notes."

"You're terrible," I laugh, grateful for the shift in focus from the details of that tense office hour.

"I'm just saying, if you're not going to tap that, someone should. It's practically a crime to let all that..." she waves her hand vaguely, "professorly goodness go to waste."

"Because student-teacher affairs have such a glowing rep," I counter, though my mind is already wandering to dangerous territory.

"But think of the story you'd have to tell your grandkids!" She pauses. "Okay, maybe not your grandkids. But me! You'd have to tell me everything."

"Pretty sure you're more invested in my hypothetical scandalous affair than I am,” I snort, shaking my head.

"Someone has to be! I swear, Rhea, you need to live a little." She drains her water bottle. "I'd give my left tit for the chance to have my wicked way with Professor Shaw."

I nearly choke on my wine. "Nat!"

"What? Like you haven't thought about it." Her grin is positively villainous now. "Those arms, that voice...bet he gives excellent oral feedback."

"Oh my goodness, stop!" I'm laughing despite myself, the wine clearly making everything seem funnier than it should be. "I'm just as likely to end up in Dean's bed as the professor's… Meaning, it’s never gonna happen."

Nat's face scrunches up like she's smelled something rotten. "Ugh, don't even joke about that. Dean's not worth the calories you'd burn taking your clothes off."

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