Page 7 of Teacher's Pet

I wonder if Professor Ackerman would even fit comfortably into one of these desks, given his size.

"Have you taken this class before?" the man asks, trying to make small talk.

"No, but it pertains to my major," I grin, the conversation starting to feel less awkward. "I’m a freshman."

"This was one of my general classes," he gripes, rolling his eyes. "Sophomore," he adds, clarifying as he extends his hand toward me. "Walker," he says, finally giving me a name.

"Ana," I beam, shaking his hand. "Are you from Spokehaven-"

"Alright, guys, I think that’s enough talking," Mr. Ackerman interrupts, his voice cutting through the classroom.

He grabs a piece of chalk and writes his name on the board, brushing off his hands afterward. He scans the room with a calculated look, and for some reason, it feels like his gaze is fixed on Walker and me despite the dozens of other students around us.

"I am Professor Ackerman," he announces, his voice firm. "I’m taking over for Mr. Matthews this year. Clearly, I am not the oldest professor on this campus, but don’t let that deter you from what kind of work I expect from you this semester. This semester you will all grow tremendously as writers and readers," he pauses, letting the words hang in the air before his eyes settle on me. "And you will do so with no lip."

My stomach tightens, and I raise my hand, already bracing myself.

"Yes, Ms. Burns?" he asks, his tone smug.

Fuck this guy.

"Mr. Matthews has years of experience under his belt," I start, my voice cool. "That’s why most of us did all we could to get into this class-"

It’s not a lie.

"How do you plan on competing with his knowledge?" I ask, throwing his age right back in his face.

A small scoff escapes him, and he walks over to my desk, tapping his knuckles on its surface as if to punctuate the moment.

"I assure you, Ms. Burns, my age does not hinder my experience whatsoever," he says, his voice dripping with self-assurance. "I’m sure you’ll see that."

My stomach drops, and an unwelcome heat flares up in a place I’d rather not admit to.

Satisfied by my silence, he grabs a book from his desk and waves it in the air.

"For the rest of class," he says, shifting back into his authoritative mode, "determine who your scene partner will be this semester."

He pauses, and I can see the weight of his words landing in the room.

"We have a long road ahead of us."

Chapter 3

Noah

Ican't remember the last time I had to shift my pants to hide an erection in the presence of a woman, let alone a student.

Over the past three years of teaching, not a single student has ever triggered such a reaction from my body, even the ones who were easy on the eyes.

Working in colleges, I always know my age and the age of my students will clash. At only thirty, my face is deceiving, often catching the attention of students and staff alike. At first, I was flattered, thinking I must be doing something right. Now, it bothers me how often the girls in my classroom gawk, looking at me as if I’m about to bend them over my desk and take them.

It’s the last thing I’d ever let myself entertain.

So tell me, why the hell did Anastasia Burns have me readjusting my cock after she threw me that shitty attitude when we were alone this morning? When I looked at her, I could see in her eyes that the last thing on her mind was my looks. No, she wanted to push me. She wanted to see if she could make me snap with annoyance.

In most scenarios, a student like that would go straight to admin. I’ve done it plenty of times before. So why am I so eager to hear her pretty mouth open and try to deliver me a new one?

When I grabbed her wrist and watched her defenseless eyes peer up at me, something twisted entered my mind, only adding to the blood flow building between my legs.

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