Page 5 of Ruthless Temptation
Right now, I’d be lucky if heonlyfails me.
Saint Frederic University’s professors are atypical. In addition to being scholars, they come from crime families just like us—though they try to keep the details a secret. All they have is a meager code of conduct that’s more legal than moral.The punishments they mete out varies. They could be as simple as being locked up in the Disciplinary Room for a few days, or something more serious, like getting kicked off your dorm.
Hell, Professor Holmes could even have me expelled if he wanted.
The thought of going home early nearly makes me dry heave. I keep the bile back with a hand over my mouth and as much self-control I can muster. I must make this right, however I can.
I stay in my seat until the last student has exited the room.
Professor Holmes has his back turned, busy organizing all his things and packing them away neatly. After every class, even when he goes over time, he takes the time to ensure everything is in its proper place in his briefcase before he leaves.
It’s one of my favorite things about him.
I chide myself for my thoughts as I approach him on shaky legs. The fact I’m managing to lust after this man even during this horrible situation makes me feel pathetic. I try to stay focused on the task at hand—not getting expelled.
Professor Holmes stills when I’m a few paces away from him.
When he turns to face me, I sink my teeth into my lips. Very rarely do I get to see him up close, much less up close andalone. I’m annoyed at my body’s reaction to him. I should be scared, but instead heat spreads outwards from my core.
I lift my eyes to meet his, but his gaze is too intense.
He’s clearly upset. His arms are folded across his chest—highlighting one of his best features, those tattooed, muscular arms—and his scowl is even more unbridled than before.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Vásquez?” he asks. His voice is low, but I hear it clearly, even over the thundering of my chest. “As a matter of fact, should I even give you the opportunity to explain why you disrespected me?”
My eyes widen. First, it was the class. Now, it’s him.
“No, sir, I?—”
He cuts me off by lifting his finger. I shut up.
He takes a step toward me. Even at my above-average height of five-foot-ten, Professor Holmes towers over me. He looks down the bridge of his nose at me and I feel like a child. A child in a mountain of trouble.
“I don’t want your excuses,” he says. “Since you clearly have no regard for my class anymore, I think it best for me to treat you in the same manner.”
My lip trembles. Professor Holmes looks me over with his austere gaze. “Look at you,” he says, circling me. “Your hair is unkempt, there’s a stain on your blouse and your skirt needs to be hemmed.” He clicks his tongue in disgust.
My eyes burn, but he is unrelenting. “Tell me something, Miss Vásquez. Is this horrendous outfit, your frequent tardiness, and your failure to turn in an assignment I explicitly mentioned would be worthhalfof your grade this semester some feeble attempt to get my attention?”
The question stuns me.
My words dry up on my tongue. All I can do is stare at him with my mouth open.
“Use your words,” he commands.
I find the courage to push the words past my teeth. “No, sir. I would never do something like this for your attention.” I’m not even sure what I’m saying.
He’s still circling me, his harsh eyes raking over my body. His scrutiny has my skin vibrating like a livewire, and the embarrassment and humiliation has blurred into one intense, overwhelming feeling.
I’m not sure whether I should run away or cry.
He stops when he’s directly in front of me. He’s stepped even closer, invading the last bit of personal space I had. Like a fire in a room with limited oxygen, leeching it all away before I can fill my lungs enough to calm myself down.
“You would never?” he asks mockingly. “I doubt that.” He rubs his index finger and thumb together, glancing down at the motion before looking back at me. “To me, it seems like you figured that the low-cut tops and short skirts were no longer enough. That being the student who did the best in my class wasn’t enough, so you wanted to get my attention some other way.”
This conversation is treading on my nerves in a way I didn’t expect. This is the longest we’ve ever spoken, Professor Holmes and I. I didn’t know any man’s attention could be this unnerving. Though I don’t know what to say, Idoknow that I don’t want him to come away thinking I’m desperate for his attention.
It was true a few weeks ago, but not anymore.
