Professor: A First Time Novel (3 page)

I mean, I’m a younger teacher, I keep in great shape, and I’m single. Oh, right, and I guess most of these kids probably read my book in high school, so there’s that too. Anyways, I’m not vain or anything, but it’s not like college freshman girls are exactly known for their subtleness.
 

Let’s put it this way: I get offers.
 

Jesus,
do I. Sometimes they’re more timid about it than other times when I get flat out asked. But either way, I can bet on at least two or three girls every fall trying to pull something. Two or three absolutely fucking stunning, totally tempting, and totally fucking off-limits offers; every damn fall.

It’s a nightmare sometimes, I’ll tell you.

When I was still riding high as the author of the moment with my bestseller and my books tours, it was a different ball game. I was up to my damn
eyeballs
in pussy back then, but it was the kind I was
allowed
to touch.

This is different. These girls are
decidedly
off-limits. Yeah, they’re
technically
old enough, but there are rules. We’re a week into the semester, and I’m already feeling the drudgery of the new-semester schedule starting to sink in. The same courses, the same books to go over, the same sea of totally legal if not totally-untouchable temptation class after class. I’m not tenured, so I’m fully aware that
acting
on those temptations means my job.

Plus even if I’m younger compared to most of the other teachers at Hardham, I’m still literally twice these girls’ age.

But here, off campus in the cool of the trendy coffee shop, I can let the imagination run wild as I run my eyes appreciatively up and down the legs and over the ass of this girl in front of me. I mean,
damn
. I’m a fucking
sucker
for redheads, too
,
and between the hair, the ass, and that creamy skin on her thighs, my imagination is having
no
trouble getting away with itself.

And for a second, I think of
her
. In a classroom full of temptation, she’s the damn
apple
of temptation. She’s the forbidden fruit; original fucking sin. The tight little red-head with the tits she doesn’t even know what to do with, the crystal blue eyes that watch me like a hawk, and the furious note-taking. And the fact that she’s such an obvious nerd and clearly
totally
unaware of her affect on men makes her that much
more
tempting.

Yeah, so freshman girls are off limits, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t stroked my cock about a dozen times since the semester started fantasizing about my front-row, straight-A, strawberry-haired temptation.

And she’s exactly who I’m thinking about as I let my eyes drink in the girl in the coffee shop. Hell, at least here I can be a bit more obvious. Here, it’s not like I’m staring a student.

I suddenly notice the copy of
Finnegan’s Wake
tucked under her arm, and my brows shoot up.
 

Damn, great legs
and
she reads James Joyce? Now I
definitely
want to get to know this mystery coffee-shop girl.
 

I definitely want to know that ass, too.

But then the hipster barista is wisecracking with me and running all sorts of stupid vaguely Italian sounding drink names past me when all I want is a fucking coffee. And when I finally look back, she’s gone.

Fuck.

I snatch the coffee from the idiot that somehow got me to miss the girl walking out and mutter as I stalk out of the store. Great, so much for that idea. Back to grading papers, pontificating on Steinbeck, and -

Bam
.

And I walk
right
into her, literally, as she comes around the corner of the building.

She gasps as the big cup of iced coffee goes tumbling out of her hands as we come crashing into one another, and she shrieks a little as the icy liquid empties across her tank top and my shirt as she goes sprawling into my arms.

Holy shit
.

It’s her; the girl reading Joyce from inside. The girl with the perfect ass and the long legs, and the red hair. My arms go around her instinctively, holding her tight as she trips, and I bring her tight against me as the icy drink spills across both of us.

And I couldn’t give a
fuck
about the coffee. Because if she looked hot from behind, she’s a fucking
knockout
from the front; the front, I might add, that’s pressed right up against my chest.
 

She gasps as she looks up at me, her eyes shaded by big black sunglass above lightly freckled cheeks and cute, soft pink lips open in surprise. And if that ass was one thing, her tits are a Goddamn
works of art
. They’re huge on her small frame, and the way they press right up against me through her soaking wet tank top and my soaking wet t-shirt has my cock
throbbing
in my pants.

“Oh!” She gasps, her breath catching as she suddenly freezes in my arms as this cute little smile spreads across her lips. “Oh my God, I’m
so
sorry!”

I swallow, feeling the blood rush from head right into my dick with this utterly sexy, heart-stompingly gorgeous girl presses her body against mine. I’m suddenly remembering this is reality and not some fantasy as I quickly set her straight on her feet and begrudgingly let her go.

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth as her brow furrows above her sunglasses. “Oh my God, I got it all over you! I am
so
freaking sorry!”

There’s something so earnest in the way that she says it that I’m grinning as I hold my hands up. She’s so
sweet
, and not swearing or anything like any other girl I know would be in that moment. “No, no not at all. Totally my fault for plowing into you.”

The sudden thought of
plowing
into her in an entirely different way comes to mind, but I quickly push that aside as I just take her in.

Jesus
Christ
is this girl sexy as all fucking sin. She
is
young, in this perky, glowing, fucking
tempting
off-limits way, and there’s a familiarness to her that I can’t place, but that I chalk up having just seen her a minute before inside. But whatever ideas I have about having seen her before suddenly go tumbling right out of my brain as my eyes land on the front of her tank top, and it’s all I can do not to
growl
.

The iced coffee is soaking through the front of her white cotton tank top, and the nipples beneath are quickly reacting to it. I’m holding the groan as I see that hard little pebbles of her nipples poking through the thin cotton, and they’re so hard and the shirt is so soaked that I can practically make out the outline of her aureolas.

And if I was checking her out before, now I’m just fucking
devouring
her with my eyes. She stands there with her brow furrowed as she looks worriedly at me, as if she’s totally oblivious of how fucking sexy she look with her finger against her lips, or that her nipples are all but totally visible through her soaked tank top. The juxtaposition of the nervous, almost shyly furtive way she carries herself with that
smokin’
body is enough to get my cock
raging
as I just stand there staring at her and resisting the primal urge to grab her back into my arms again right then and there.

“Oh,
shit
, I got some on you too,” she frowns, biting at her lip nervously again.

“No, really, that’s all me, trust me,” I say, flashing a smile at her and grinning even wider when I see the flush bloom in her cheeks and a small smile of her own creep over those lips.

“Honestly,” I say, smiling and forcing my eyes back to hers tucked behind those shades. “It was completely my fault.”

“No, I-”

“Seriously,” I say firmly, smiling at her and watching her lips part into a grin. “Listen, please let me pay for the dry cleaning at the very least.”

“Oh- no, that’s-” She’s stammering as that adorably innocent looking blush creeps back into her cheeks. “No, I couldn’t.”

“You could, and really, I insist.”

She bites her lip again as she looks at me through those shades, and I hold that gaze, feeling the urge to mash my lips to hers right there; resisting the primal caveman urge to rip her clothes off and take her right there against the side of the building.

She suddenly glances jerks her cellphone out of her pocket and gasp. “Oh, God, I need go, I’m late for something.”

I glance at my own watch and swear under my breath.
Fuck
, I’ve got a lecture that starts in two minutes and I’m ten minutes from campus.

“Sorry again about your shirt!” She says with a final cute little blush across those cheeks, before suddenly she’s turning to walk away.

“Woah, hang on,” I say, suddenly reaching out and putting my hand on her arm. She turns back, that lip back between those teeth. “Let me get your number or something. If you won’t let me pay for the shirt, let me take you out to dinner or something instead.”

Her face goes bright red as the little grin teases across her perfect, utterly kissable lips, as if this is the first time a guy has ever asked a girl who looks like
her
for a phone number.

“I-” She’s stammering, and again, that cross between how nervous she is and how
crazy
hot that body is has my cock hard as stone. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she says finally, quickly looking down.

“Look, I promise I won’t spill anything on you; honest.”

She giggles and looks back up at me. “I…thank you, but…” She trails off.”

“C’mon, just say yet. Let me take you out.”

She’s looking at me curiously, and slowly, this little grin starts to spread across her face. “I can’t,” she says finally, and she gives me one last smile. “See you soon, professor.”

Oh FUCK
.

My jaw drops as she gives me one last shy smile before turning and walking towards a beat-up looking Jetta parked behind her.
 

Well, so much for being far enough from campus
, I groan to myself as my cock slowly deflating in my pants, before cursing and heading to my car.

*****

I’ve managed to convince myself that I didn’t say anything
too
inappropriate when I roar into the faculty parking lot. And I’ve already decided it was just a random run in, and that even on a campus this small, the chances of running into
one
hot girl from one chance encounter are pretty slim as I storm into the lecture hall, tugging a new t-shirt on.

I growl an apology to the assembled bored freshman as I crack open my lecture notes and take a breath.

Relax. So you asked a girl out, it’s not that bad
.

I clear my throat and look up, prepared to launch right into Jayne Eyre, when the floor drops out from under me
 

See you soon, professor.

I’ve been wondering what she meant the whole drive back to campus, but the whole thing clicks into place the second I look and looking
right
at her.

She’s wearing this much less form-fitting button-up plaid shirt now, but I can still see the coffee stain across the tight white tank-top beneath it. She’s lost the hat too, and her long strawberry blonde hair cascades wildly down around her face. Her shades are off now, and those bright, sparkling innocent blue eyes that I recognize now are looking right at me from behind those thick black-rimmed glasses that I also know. And there’s a creeping blush across her cheeks as I lock eyes with her, and right then, I get it.

Holy shit, the girl from the coffee shop is
her
.

Her
being Ellie Thompson, the shy, quiet, clearly miles ahead of the rest of the class after one week, always sitting front and center like she is now,
student
.

My barely legal, utterly and totally off-limits
student
.

I was freaked out before, about possibly having hit on a student, but right now, I’m way past that. Fuck it, I’m the
opposite
of freaked right now. Because looking at her, and thinking about those soft lip opening in shock, those big, pillowy tits heaving under her soaked-through tank top, and those hard little nipples poking through the cotton, has me rock fucking hard.

She was cute before, sitting there front and center taking
pages
of notes and turning in papers that floored me. But it’s like the veil’s been lifted, and suddenly, I’m not seeing her as the cute little bookworm college freshman anymore.

I’m seeing the hottest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on; this wildly sexy angel-creature, wrapped up in the quiet, unassuming shroud of bashful shyness.

And I want to tear that shroud off her, along with every other piece of clothing, I might add. Right there, standing in front of my damn lecture hall with Jane Eyre in my hand, my words failing me, and my cock hard as a fucking stone in my pants, I know one thing: I’m going to make this girl
mine
.

And I don’t give a shit about the consequences.

Chapter 4

Ellie

He doesn’t know
.

It’s actually the first thought that flashes through my head the second I look up from the iced coffee drenching the front of my shirt into the dark, piercing eyes of Liam Martin. Liam Martin the best-selling novelist who’s book I
devoured
before I even came to Hardham.
 
Professor
Martin, I should say.