39. Evan
CHAPTER 39
Evan
L exi is leaning against the wall beside my office door, tapping her foot impatiently as I walk down the hallway. I keep my expression calm and relaxed, which irritates her more, as evidenced by her scowl and increased foot tapping.
“Good morning, Miss Whitmore. How?—”
“Cut the crap.”
I frown, raising my brows, before sticking the key into the lock and turning it.
She glances down at it, then at me, her eyes flashing with fury. “Jesus. Can you move any slower? Open the damn door already so I can yell at you.”
I pause, looking around the empty hallway. “You don’t speak to your professor with such disrespect.”
“I’ll show you respect when you show me some,” she hisses, her anger palpable. “Open the damn door. We have things to discuss.”
My dick is as hard as a rock. Even so, I need to put her in her place. “Yes, like me reporting you to the dean for your disrespectful behavior and language.”
She stares at me, fear flickering in her irises.
“That’s what I thought.” I push the door open and hit the light, gesturing for her to enter.
She storms by me in a cloud of rage and honeysuckle. I inhale deeply, the scent and her disobedience making my cock throb.
Shutting and locking the door behind me, I come up behind her as she sets her backpack on the floor. My hand smacks her ass, and she yelps before straightening and rubbing the cheek I smacked. “What the hell?—”
“Enough.” I grab her wrist, backing her ass against my desk and crowding into her personal space, her curves molding against my body. “You will learn to respect me and do what you’re told.”
“I will not. Not until?—”
I squeeze her wrist harder, grinding my cock against her pussy. She gasps and then whimpers, her words dying in her throat.
“I’m your professor and academic advisor, and you will not disrespect me again.” My lips are an inch away from hers.
She tilts her chin, seething at me. “The grade you gave me is bullshit, and you know it. And you just slapped my ass.”
“I warned you about wearing revealing clothing.” My hand slides down to her ass, giving her a warning squeeze. “Regarding your grade, there are problems with your assignment, which I noted.”
“Problems? What problems ?” Her voice has an edge of hysteria to it. “Evan, that grade is totally?—”
“It’s Professor Whitmore,” I grit out. “I’m happy to discuss what you did incorrectly, but I’m not granting you favors just because you’re my stepsister.”
She gapes at me as I release her and move to my desk. Her eyes track my movements as I drop into my chair and gesture for her to come closer. “I’ll pull it up on my screen so we can review it together. Bring the chair around. Unless you need me?—”
“I’ve got it.” She bends over and lifts the chair, giving me one hell of a view.
She slams it down beside me and drops into the seat, her expression sullen.
Her little tantrum is gonna get her punished.
I raise my brows. “You’re lucky the office walls are thick to preserve confidentiality.” I flash her a tight smile while inwardly gloating that I’m getting under her skin. “Imagine explaining yourself to the department chair.” I pause, leveling her with a smug look. “Or the Dean.”
Worry fills her eyes. “I’m not making that much of a racket.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe not. Maybe I’ll mention how disrespectful one of my advisees acted at the next department meeting and see what they think. Or to the Dean and Provost, who are friends with my father.”
“You’re an asshole,” she snaps, eyes flashing.
“There’s that disrespect again. Name-calling, foul language.” She opens her mouth, but I lean over her, crowding into her space. “Maybe I need to turn you over my knee and smack your ass until you learn to respect me.”
She can’t hide the shiver that runs through her. Or the excited gleam that flashes in her mocha irises.
I lower my tone. “Maybe we need to repeat what happened in the restaurant bathroom.”