Page 118 of Twisted Obsession

Let’s be honest. He doesn’t care about Chaucer or Homer. He doesn’t care about analyzing texts and pulling out pieces to examine against modern standards.

I wet my finger to get traction on the paper, turning the page and continuing to lead the discussion. Besideshim, there are quite a few good students who contribute. I guide their perspective, playing devil’s advocate when possible, and smile at their arguments.

Running my hand over my stomach, I pluck at my sweater. My hair is longer than it’s ever been, and I resist the urge to flip it over my shoulder. A move reserved for the younger crowd, I think. A giggling schoolgirl, I am not.

I push my glasses up my nose and eye Jacob Rhodes. He’s slouched in his chair, his gaze on me. Always on me, even though I’m ninety-nine percent sure he hearsnothing.

I look away.

See me after class. Maybe not my best decision.

Students have questions, and I take my time answering them until our time runs out. There’s a flurry of activity as they all rise and head out the door, and I busy myself shuffling papers until it’s only Jacob Rhodes and I left in the massive room.

I climb the stairs and stop a row short of his chair.

“Jacob,” I call.

His gaze comes to me, and he leans forward. He’s moved the table that covered his lap, putting his elbows on his thighs. “You can call me Jake.”

He fucking flexes.

“What’s this ‘see me after class’ bullshit about?”

I suck in a breath.

So brash. Soangry. At me.

“I can’t flunk this class.”

“Well, that’s why I didn’t grade it.” There’s a week left until the final exam, and I don’t want to say it out loud, but heisflunking my class. Albeit, it’s close. “Read my notes. Edit it, and I’ll give you a passing grade. Even if you half-ass the final exam, you’d still pass.”

He stands.

It’s kind of intimidating how explosive he seems to be. In his movements. So much energy, I suppose I could see how it would translate into sport.

Stop it.

He comes down a step in the aisle, and fuck if I don’t have to tilt my head back to keep my eyes on his face. Perfect timing, as his gaze ticks down to my chest. And lingers.

My face heats.

“How about we figure something else out?”

I step back and cross my arms. My stomach twists, and there’s something else in his gaze. A challenge, maybe?

“I don’t like what you’re implying.” I keep my voice even.

“So you’re saying you don’t see yourself getting on your knees and worshiping my cock?”

I choke. What the fuck?

What iswrongwith him?

“Absolutely not,” I snap. My face is even hotter.

Am I imagining this? What kind of student just… just says those things?

“You’re right.” He sneers. “If you’re doing me a favor, I should do you one. My face between your pretty thighs…”

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