Lessons in Sin: A Student/Teacher Romance (Forbidden Love)

Chapter 8

Ice cold dread spreads through me at the sight of him. His mouth is moving but I can’t hear a word he’s saying, his words stolen by the rushing in my ears.

This cannot be happening.

For the second time since meeting him in that crowded club, I find myself incapable of looking away but instead of desire, or lust or any of those nice, good emotions being my captor, this time its stone-cold fear.

Walking the length of the room, his muscles pressing against his white dress shirt, he stops at the podium. I force myself to listen, to tune back in, to ignore that shouting, screaming part of me that’s telling me to run.

‘… nte, Hardy, all the greats but we’ll also be looking at a few lesser-known writers – or lesser known in today’s day and age.’

His presence is as commanding in this stale lecture hall as it was in the club, every student hanging on to his every word. Teacher voodoo maybe?

He crosses his arms, and although I am in crisis mode right now, I’d be lying if I said a little … okay fine a large part of me isn’t thinking about how good he looks in a dress shirt and tie.

I feel heat creep along my collarbone, itching its way up my neck. I shouldn’t be thinking these things in a crisis like this! But as much as I want to deny it, the heat pooling at my core doesn’t lie.

He still hasn’t seen me, thankfully, and I have no idea what’s going to happen when he does.

Fuck, think Scarlett. Think!

Before I can think of what to do, not that there’s much that I can do, Tristan’s voice deepens, taking on that sexy, domineering tone.

‘Now, before we start the year, I’m going to make one thing clear—I do not tolerate half-assed bullshit from my students. If you want to waste my time, I will make sure to waste yours.’ He stands up straight. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

His eyes run over the class, surveying each student in turn, his eyes gleaming with the threat in his words.

My heart beats faster and faster until I swear if you took a knife to my heart, you’d open it to find a woodpecker pecking away, matching the tone of my panic. And then it happens.

It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion, there’s nothing I can do but wait as his eyes shift to where I’m sitting. His green eyes collide with mine and for a moment it’s like being transported back to that club. That same fizzle of chemistry still dancing between us, the same feeling of fate binding us together.

And then the realisation sets in.

His entire body tenses, his eyes widening in shock for a split second before he shuts down. Before he shuts me out.

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

His eyes, now shuttered to my gaze, continue their perusal of the class as if he hadn’t just learnt that he’d fucked his student a few days prior.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I need to get out of here.

I feel warmth at my side as Noah leans into me, his words a gentle whisper. ‘Are you okay? There’s a note of worry in his voice, my own emotions clearly aren’t as easily hidden as Tris—Professor Ryder’s.

I send him a tight nod and a weak smile and go straight back to looking forward, my gaze staring unseeingly ahead.

Falling straight back into teacher mode, Tristan claps his hands together. ‘Right okay then, let us begin. Over the year you’ll be assessed through a range of—’

His words disappear to nothing, but I know he’s still talking – only he can make goosebumps rise in the wake of his words like magic. Deeper than that there’s also an ache beating in time with my heart, pulsing with need. Clearly my body cannot comprehend the absolute shit show that this has turned into.

The rest of the class passes by in a slow blur of anxiety, Jane Austen, and him. Finally, the class ends, and I make a run for it, saying a quick goodbye to Noah and Lily before I bolt for the door.

And I almost make it.

‘Scarlett.’ Tristan says from behind me, and I can hear the slight undercurrent of anger he’s keeping on a tight leash.

I curse under my breath, dread churning in my stomach, but still, I turn to face him. ‘Yes?’

‘I need to see you in my office.’

‘Um, okay.’ I mumble.

‘It’s down the corridor. Follow me.’ His words are clinical, cold, and it hurts.

He walks me down a long line of classrooms until we reach his office, the plague on the door detailing his name and specialty – Professor Ryder of Literature. He opens the door with a key before standing back to let me inside. As I pass him, I can feel the heat of his body, the flame stroking something inside of me.

Ignoring the stirring in my core, I take in his office. A few open boxes are strewn carelessly on the floor, each one in a different state of being unpacked. His desk, a large mahogany masterpiece that fits in perfectly with the old feel of the building, sits in the centre of the room. The entire thing is bare, and I’d be a liar if I said my mind doesn’t immediately think of all the things I want him to do to me on that desk.

Shaking my head, I try to rid myself of the thoughts, and walk over to the bookshelves that line the wall behind his desk.

I hear him close the door as I run my finger along the spines of the books, reading each one in turn; Hardy, Marlowe, Shakespeare, Austen, Walker, Atwood …

I let out a shaky breath and without turning I say, ‘Favourite book?’

He says nothing for a moment, the silence between us is like a living thing and then, ‘Did you know?’ The question is low, his voice on a dangerous cliff, teetering between the forced calm in his voice and the possibility of losing control.

‘That’s not how the game works.’ I whisper.

’Scarlett, I swear to fucking—’

I spin around to face him, fire burning in my narrowed eyes. ‘I knew no more than you did!’ My voice trembled with the anger burning a pit inside me. How dare he? How fucking dare he imply such a thing.

Is that what he thinks of me? That I’m some stupid girl who traps her teachers by fucking them.

‘What kind of girl do you think I am?’ I whisper, my voice lethally calm.

‘The kind of girl who lies about her age.’

‘I never told you my age.’

‘Lying by omission is still fucking lying Scarlett.’

Rounding the desk, I stalk towards him, stopping so close to him that I can feel that heat again, that mix of desire and anger and in answer something suspiciously like desire slithers into his eyes, but is gone in an instant.

His body dwarfs’ mine, but I don’t let it deter me. Raising my chin, I snarl at him. ‘I am not some stupid little girl that you can place the blame on here Professor.’ I spit the title at him like an insult, wielding it as if it were a knife. ‘You do not have a right to be pissed at me for this. If my age was such a concern, you should have asked before you fucked my brains out.’

My chest rises and falls in an erratic panting rhythm and for a moment I feel the anger mix with lust, with need until the space between us fizzles. But then he lets out a breathless fuck before collapsing onto one of the chairs opposite his desk. Wracking a hand through his hair, he looks at me and there’s an apology somewhere in those depths.

‘What are we supposed to do here?’ He murmurs, sounding pained. He sounds so at a loss that I sit down on the chair beside him, my anger depleted by the hopelessness of the situation.

My shoulders drop. ‘It’s not like anyone needs to know.’ I say, and I want to shove the words back into my mouth the minute they’re out. I don’t want this to end, I don’t want to sever this thing between us before we even have a chance to find out what it is. But there’s no other option here. No happy ending.

He looks at me beneath lowered lashes, a hint of something in his eyes that gives me hope that I’m not the only one suffering - but it disappears a split second later, making me doubt it was even there in the first place.

‘I think that’s probably best.’

Silence settles between us, as heavy as ink. I bite my lip, the awkward tension between us making me jittery and nervous. His eyes narrow on my lips, but the cold, shuttered gaze gives nothing away.

Standing suddenly, he sighs ‘I should get going. I have a few students to deal with.’

I see the words for the lies they are but nod regardless. He opens the door for me, and I disappear through it, and try to ignore the fact that my heart aches with longing for a man I can never have again.