Page 9 of In Control

“Hello again.” There’s a slight tightness to his jaw and his shoulders that wasn’t there the last time we met. “Miss …”

“Sophia.” I curl my hair behind my ear. His scent is discernible this close, and it makes the man all the more appealing.

“You’re a student?”

I cock my head to one side. “I’m a PhD student in my final year.” His shoulders loosen a fraction.

“Right.” He swallows. “Then I apologise for the other night. If I had known–”

“You wouldn’t have fucked me.”

His eyes dart to the door at the back of the lecture theatre. Then back to me. They darken and his voice lowers. “No, I probably still would have fucked you. You looked delicious in that dress. But it would have been very foolish of me.”

I take a tiny step towards him. He’s magnetic. “Don’t I look delicious now?”

He glares at me. “I think you know you do, and I also think you know I’m not going to do anything about it.”

I frown. “Why not?”

“Miss …”

“Sophia,” I tell him for the third time.

“Let’s keep this professional, please.”

“Please?” I smile up at him and I swear his hands twitch.

“I’ve worked hard to win this position at Crestmore.”

I wonder what that means. He thinks I’m going to ruin it for him.

“You’re married,” I say.

“No.” He frowns at me. “You’re a very attractive woman but–”

“But …” He smells so good and I never got to explore what lies beneath all those clothes last time. “You’re a one-time only kind of man.”

“I am.”

I study his face. He’s younger than I assumed at the theatre. Early forties perhaps. He is clearly a big shot if he’s secured this professorship at such a young age.

“Shame,” I say, reaching up on my tiptoes, my fingertips brushing his taut torso as I whisper up at him. “I’ve been thinking about you. I was hoping we’d meet again.”

He grabs my hand in his, yanking it away from his body. His grip is tight on my fingers and for a moment it seems as if he’s caught in indecision. For a moment, I think he intends to drag me onto the row of seats. Instead, he pushes me slightly away from him.

“Sophia,” he says and god my name sounds electric in that deep growl of his, making me tingle all the way down to my toes.

But he’s telling me no. It’s clear in his tone, in the dominance of his stance.

I snatch my hand away.

“It was a perfectly reasonable question.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “The one you asked after my presentation?”

I nod, folding my arms over my chest.

“Perhaps.” One corner of his mouth curves. “But I suspect you were being deliberately provocative.” Something else my mother is always accusing me of. “I think you were deliberately trying to seek my attention.” The half-smile falls from his lips. “I assure you, you already have it.” He spins and collects up his satchel. Then he pauses and peers at me over his shoulder. “I assume I can rely on your discretion about the other night.”

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