Falling for the Professor (Falling For You #1)

Chapter 1

RICHARD

“Go home!”

I look up from my massive pile of marking and stare at Paul, my head of department. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“You’ve got someone waiting at home for you, don’t you?” he asks.

I twist my wedding ring. It’s a simple gold band. I haven’t taken it off since my wife, Ashley, slipped it onto my finger as we exchanged vows five years ago.

“She prefers me to leave work here, which means I need to do my marking before I go home.” Or at least put a dent in it.

“Seriously, go home. Everyone knows you work hard. The marking will wait until tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Your boss says so.”

I chuckle and cap my pen. “All right. I’ll go home. Thanks for letting me slack off.”

He wags his finger at me. “Just this once.” His light tone of voice suggests he doesn’t mean that.

I pack everything away under Paul’s watchful stare. Is he making sure I actually leave?

“I want you to know I think you’re doing a great job,” he says once I’m ready to go. “You’ve really made a mark on the department in the three years you’ve been here. Keep up the good work.”

“Thanks.”

He steps aside so I can leave the shared office.

I stroll out of the maths building onto the main path through the university campus.

Even though lectures finished an hour ago, plenty of students are around.

Some are hurrying along the paths, while others sit on benches, comparing notes or simply chatting.

It barely seems like yesterday since I was amongst them, carefree as I studied for my undergraduate degree, my master's degree, and then my PhD. Now I’m lecturing them. Well, some of them.

I reach the carpark and get into my car.

I take my phone out of my pocket. It’s been on silent all day.

No messages. No missed calls. Should I text Ashley to let her know I’ll be home early?

No. It’ll be fun to surprise her. We hardly ever get to cook together anymore.

Better yet, I could cook while she has a relaxing bubble bath.

I smile. It will be good to spend a mid-week evening together.

The last time we did was on our wedding anniversary.

I bust my arse in the run-up to it so I could leave campus right after my last lecture of the day.

We went out for a meal and then to the cinema.

It was a good night. Our work commitments sometimes keep us apart, but that night we really connected.

It was like falling in love with each other all over again.

Traffic is busier than when I usually leave campus, but I have music to keep me company. Singing in the car is my guilty pleasure. When I’m alone, I belt the tracks out like I’m on a TV talent show. I’d be the token bad singer who gets slipped into the mix for comic relief.

I park behind Ashley’s car and then take a moment to stare at our home and consider how fortunate we are.

While we were students, we lived in crummy accommodation.

After we got married and established in our careers, we put our feet on the housing ladder by buying a modest home in one of the satellite villages outside of the city.

It’s ‘cosy’ as Mum would say. It’s small and needs work, but it’s ours.

Enough daydreaming. I get out of the car, lock it and go inside.

I pause. A rhythmic squeak filters through the ceiling, combined with loud groaning.

Ashley must be watching porn with the volume on max.

I put my bag down, take my coat off, and hang my keys on the hook, all the while imagining her lying on our bed, using a toy while watching a couple going at it on the TV.

I’m half-hard thinking about it. The thought of joining her plumps my cock up fully.

Grinning, I jog up the stairs and open our bedroom door.

I freeze.

Ashley isn’t watching porn.

She’s straddling another man, riding his cock like she’s in a rodeo.

“Oh fuck!” The stranger in my bed points at me.

Ashley yelps and twists her torso. She widens her eyes, grabs a sheet and pulls it over her naked body, as though it’s something I shouldn’t see. She hops off the stranger, leaving his wet, rigid cock wanting.

“Richard. I— I— wasn’t expecting you home. This isn’t…” She stares at the floor like a naughty toddler.

My mouth is dry. My cock deflated like a sad balloon. The excitement and desire that had driven me to rush upstairs and join Ashley have drained away, replaced by confusion and despair.

Ashley slaps the stranger’s knee. “Put some clothes on, Simon.”

He rolls over and grabs his underwear from a pile of their clothes on the floor and, without standing or sitting, pulls it on.

It does very little to hide his swollen cock.

It’s funny. I might have found him attractive if I’d met him on the street.

He’s the kind of guy I might have hit on before I started dating Ashley. Before.

“What’s going on?” What a stupid thing to say. It’s like I’m standing outside my body, watching myself say daft things, while gaping like a rabbit caught in headlights. I can see the oncoming car, but I can’t do anything to avoid the inevitable collision.

Ashley hugs the sheet tighter. “Nothing. Just—hanging out with a friend.” She smiles, but her expression falters immediately.

Is she kidding me? I might have believed her if I’d found them watching a film together. Forget that. I would have believed her.

I clench my teeth.

I found them in bed together.

Having sex.

In our bed.

The bed we make love in. The bed we fall asleep in. Together. Every night.

“How— How long—?” Do I even want to know the answer?

“Not long.”

The stranger glances between us as we speak, like he’s watching an intense tennis match.

“Do— Do you love him?”

She steps towards me, hand out. “No. Of course not. It’s just—”

I step backwards. I don’t want her touching me right now. I swallow but can’t seem to form any saliva to sate my sore, parched throat. “Do you love me?” I don’t want to know the answer to that.

“Of course I do. It’s just—”

I shake my head, cutting her off. How can she love me while sleeping with another guy? I get that poly relationships exist and work, but this isn’t that. She didn’t talk to me. She didn’t ask how I would feel about her sleeping with other men. She just went ahead and did it. In our bed.

My wedding ring feels heavy and tight. I tug it off my finger, wrenching my knuckle as I do so, and stare at it.

“Richard—?” Ashley’s voice is a little panicked. “What are you doing?”

I blink and shift my gaze from the ring to her. “I was going to cook for you,” I whisper. “While you relaxed in the bath.”

“We can still do that. Simon can leave.”

“I can?”

Ignoring him, Ashley puts her arms around me.

This time, I let her.

“We can forget all about this and have a lovely evening together.” She kisses my jaw and moves to kiss my lips.

I tug away, raising my arms defensively. She kissed Simon with those lips. Where else have they been? On his body? His nipples? His cock?

“Richard? Let’s talk. We can fix this.”

I hadn’t realised our marriage was broken. But it is. How can I trust Ashley again? I let the ring fall out of my hand. It thuds onto the carpet, bouncing once before coming to rest beside Ashley’s bare feet.

She sobs.

I turn and go down the stairs, taking them two at a time to get away from her. From them.

“Where are you going?” She leans over the bannister, her voice desperate.

“Somewhere.”

“Will you be back?”

I grab my coat and keys. I sigh. Will I? I force myself to make eye contact with her. “I want a divorce, Ashley.”

Tears spring into her eyes and drip down her cheeks. “No, you don’t. You love me. I love you.”

“You cheated on me.” I’m crying too. The onslaught of tears blurs my vision.

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“But it did happen.” I open the door and walk out.

“Richard!”

I shut the door on her scream and stride to my car.

I sit inside it, too upset to drive. I slam my hands against the steering wheel a few times and then force myself to take deep, calming breaths.

I turn the engine on and select songs I can belt.

It helps to ground me. I half expect Ashley to realise I haven’t gone anywhere and come out and talk to me.

She doesn’t. I do expect Simon to do the walk of shame.

He doesn’t. The front door remains closed, taunting me, reminding me my marriage is in tatters.

Eventually, I’m capable of driving without fear of causing a crash. I pull away from the house and head towards the city. I need to find a good bar with stiff drinks. One with a hotel close enough to stumble to when I’m shit-faced would be a bonus.