Page 7 of Ruthless Temptation
“What can I do to make up for the test?” I say, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. Now that I know I’m his favorite student, I don’t want to disappoint him.
Professor Holmes chuckles. “Make up for the assignment?” He purses his lips together briefly. “Why do you think I would allow you to? Because you’re my favorite student?”
I suck in a breath, nodding.
“Are you asking for special treatment, Tara?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t call it that,” I begin. “I’ve made a mistake, and I would like to make up for it, somehow. I don’t want to fail this course.”
Even though it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, I find myself wanting to make things up to Professor Holmes most of all. If any other teacher on campus hates me, I wouldn’t mind it much.
But his opinion matters to me more than I would admit to anyone.
“Like I said, I am a very demanding Professor,” he says. He moves his hand slowly down my neck to rest it on my shoulder. It’s a simple action, but I’m so mesmerized by his touch I stifle a groan by catching my lip between my teeth.
“I don’t care,” I say. “I want to make up for it.” I want to make it up toyou.
For a moment, it feels like we’re talking about something else.
The corner of Professor Holmes’ lips lift lightly into the subtlest smile. His gaze falls from my eyes to my lips. He takes a step closer, erasing the final bit of distance between us and my heart starts hammering in my chest again. I’m sure he can feel it.
The heat in my core starts to pulse, matching my heartbeat. All I can think of is his lips on mine. It’s a crazy thought, I know, to even consider he would kiss me. But he starts to lean down, and I root my feet into the floor and hold my breath.
He doesn’t kiss me, sadly.
He leans down to put his lips by my ear. His free hand moves to grip my waist and pull me into him. I close my eyes as the smell of him envelopes me. His cologne is discreet, only noticeable when you’re this close, but gosh is it intoxicating.
He smells of cedarwood and sage, mixed with the slightest hint of aged whiskey.
“Come to my office at six this evening,” he whispers in my ear. “We’ll discuss how you can make up for your behavior at that time.” I nod even before he’s finished speaking.
He pulls away from me and I almost want to whimper now the smell and warmth of him is gone too. Professor Holmes looks down on me with a smirk on his face, the first hint that he’s aware of what he’s just done to me.
“Don’t be late,” he says.
He moves back to his desk. I watch quietly as he finishes packing his things and leaves.
4
I spendthe rest of the day debating what I should do.
On one hand, I want to go. He’s my professor after all. After my constant tardiness and missing an assignment, I should be appreciative that he’s even giving me the chance to make up for it. Professor Holmes doesn’t often give these kinds of chances. However, he’s willing to do it for me because I’m his favorite student.
And that’s exactly the reason why I shouldn’t go.
The pure excitement and desire that coursed through my body when Professor Holmes closed the space between us was explosive. The way he was able to set my body on fire with a single touch, the way I was paralyzed by his gaze—it was an intense, all-consuming experience.
I’m worried about what will happen if I’m alone with him again. He might not even know what he’s doing to me, but I am all too aware of it. I’m unsure of how much I can take. If I make even more of a fool of myself in front of him in his office this evening, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get over it.
On top of that, in our world, I am already as good as married.
Even on the off-chance Professor Holmes was intentionally making me feel things and we do end up involved—fuck, whatam I even thinking about—it would be a dead end. If wind of our situation ends up leaving the campus boundaries, Nico would find a way to have us both killed.
Hell, he might even have my father pull the trigger, just for his own amusement.
Yet even though I know all the reasons why this is a risk—I’ve come up with a whole list of reasons why I shouldn’t even go near Professor Holmes again and just quietly spend the rest of my time at Saint Frederic in mourning for what could have been—I still spend extra time getting ready.
I take a long, steaming hot shower with all my favorite scented bath products. I wash my hair twice, and style it into bouncy curls. I lather every inch of my body in lotion, so my skin is soft, and spend nearly an hour choosing the right outfit. I even venture away from the black lipstick I’ve been wearing the past three weeks and back to my signature blood red.
