His Forbidden Professor (Forbidden Mafia #2)

Chapter 1 Alex

ALEX

The music shook the walls of the frat house, and the pain in my head pounded to the beat. I looked at the beer in my hand and tried to remember how many I’d had. I wasn’t that drunk, was I? No, I was just tired of all the talking and yelling and people shoving past me.

This was fun though, right? That’s why I was here, to have fun. To party. To live it up. Except all I was doing was observing and growing more and more pissed off. These guys were idiots, and the girls who were here deserved better.

You’re one of them. One of the idiots.

I was. Or at least I was pretending to be.

Join the old man’s frat, everyone insisted, even though he’d been dead for years.

How the hell was he still controlling what I did?

I’d considered refusing to rush at all, but my grandparents and my uncle would be horrified if I broke family tradition, and they were the ones who paid my bills.

A girl’s voice caught my attention. “Stop! I said I want to leave!”

I turned to see her struggling with Randall in the stairwell. He claimed to be six foot six, which meant he was probably six foot four and about as wide at the shoulders. She wasn’t going to get away if he didn’t let go.

“Come on,” he begged. “I just want to show you something.”

She tried again to free herself. “I said no.”

“Randall, that’s enough,” I yelled.

He scowled at me. “Shut up, fuck face.” His slurred words told me he was drunker than I was, and he was mean when he was drunk. I wasn’t walking away though.

The girl was attempting to peel his fingers from her wrist. “Let her go.”

“Are you going to make me?”

“I sure am.” I didn’t relish the idea of getting beaten, though at least it might make me feel something for a change. My best hope was that he was too drunk to be steady on his feet or to aim his punches. Even when he was sober, I was much more agile.

I moved closer.

He tried to push me back, but he stumbled and fell backward onto the steps, releasing his hold on the girl. She ran the second she was free.

“Go sleep it off,” I told him. He growled at me, but he failed in his attempt to get up again. I hurried outside to track down the girl and make sure she was okay.

I scanned the crowded yard, looking for her. I saw her heading down the street. I ran to catch up.

She looked over her shoulder, fear in her eyes, so I held up my hands. “It’s okay. It’s me.”

“Thank God. I thought he was coming after me.”

“No, he’s still trying to get up the stairs, but it might be best if I walk you home.”

She glanced back toward the house. “I… um… if you don’t mind, that would be great.”

“I was ready to get out of there anyway. I’m Alex, by the way.”

“I’m Ellie. I made the mistake of going out with Randall once, and he’s been after me for weeks. If I’d known he would be here, I wouldn’t have come.”

“He’s an asshole. If I thought it would do any good, I’d report him to the Greek council, but…”

She snorted. “They won’t do shit. I get it.”

“I’m sorry. Where are you headed?”

“The Zeta house.”

We didn’t talk much on the walk. She seemed shaken up, but she assured me some of her sisters were home, and she’d be fine.

Once she’d entered the house, I stood on the porch, trying to decide my next move.

I should go back to my room. I lived at the university-sanctioned frat house, not the one where we hosted parties, but no doubt I’d see some of the guys who’d already stumbled home.

Some would be passed out in the living room, some awake and playing pool, drinking more, and talking about the girls they’d hooked up with.

I didn’t want to face them. I didn’t want to face anybody.

Pretending all the time was so fucking hard.

I pulled a blanket off the porch swing of the sorority house, intending to wash it and return it later, though I’d probably forget.

I supposed they could count it as payment for the service of walking Ellie home.

I wandered through Greek Village down toward the pond.

It was hot as hell, not a great night for sleeping outside.

But where the hell else was I supposed to go if I didn’t want to be at the frat house?

It wasn’t like I had other friends I could crash with.

I’d pissed them all off the year before.

I wrapped the blanket around myself to fend off mosquitoes and curled up on a bench by the pond.

I must’ve had enough to drink to at least let me pass out despite being miserably hot with a horrible headache, because hours later, I woke up, stiff and sore.

My headache was even worse. It hurt to open my eyes, so I kept them half-shut, but I could see a hint of light in the sky.

I should drag myself home, but before I could convince myself to move, I heard someone coming toward me and looked toward the path.

A man was coming toward me. He was tall, with dark hair and tanned skin, and he wore nothing but a tiny pair of shorts.

He was the hottest man I’d ever seen.

I couldn’t look away. There was something about him beyond how hot he was—something that I felt deep in my soul.

Dear God, I wanted him. I wondered what he’d do if I tackled him right there and begged him to do anything he wanted to me.

I’d hooked up with men on the DL before. My frat brothers had no idea, and I was happy to keep it that way, but every time, it was so good to be pushed to my knees and used or to have a big, rough hand jerk me off. When I craved that badly enough, I went out seeking it.

I told myself I wasn’t gay, but I never felt anything like that when I slept with women.

It was pleasant to get off, but that was all.

Deep in my brain, I knew what that meant, but I never let those thoughts come to the surface.

Like most serious things in my life, they were something I would deal with later—or maybe never.

I knew what was expected of me, and it sure as hell wasn’t being caught fucking a man at dawn on a running path, but if he asked…

He glanced my way but didn’t acknowledge me with a wave or smile. He just kept on running, giving me a chance to see that he was just as hot from behind. He had incredible back muscles, and his ass was round and so fucking bitable. I wanted to eat it.

I wished he’d at least smiled at me, but I realized how I would appear to him. I surely looked like a crazy person, wrapped up in a fluffy pink blanket, my hair probably sticking out all over. Of course he didn’t speak to me—or stop to see if I wanted to suck him off mid-run.

He probably wasn’t interested in men anyway.

Maybe I could change his mind.

Or maybe I should get over myself, go home, and take a shower. I wasn’t likely to see him again anyway.