Chapter 12 Yes, Professor
YES, PROFESSOR
JACOB
Sophia taps her pen on her notebook as she reads. Every strike against the paper grates away at my nerves in my silent office. Small dots of blue ink bloom on the report, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“Here.” She pauses the pen, looking up at me with a smile. “I knew law enforcement quoted it in his interview. It’s right here.”
Sophia shoves the report across the desk, pointing to a quote from an interview.
I read the sentence. “Very good.”
She frowns when I turn to my laptop, like she expected something more from me.
After all, there’s a reason Patience mentioned Sophia when we were in the library.
I’m not oblivious to the fact that Sophia parades herself in short skirts just to see if I’ll notice.
Like right now, when her long legs are purposely stretched out as she sits to the side of my desk. She wants my attention.
Her dark hair was in a tight bun when she came in here, but as pieces have started to loosen, she twirls them around her finger, tentatively smiling at me.
It’s one of the downsides of being younger than the majority of my colleagues.
It draws attention. And attention isn’t something I want, especially from my students.
I wasn’t lying when I told Patience I’ve never fucked a student. Never felt the least bit inclined to cross that line.
They’re too young.
Too immature.
There’s too much of a chance they’ll try to cling to something I can’t offer them.
It’s why I rarely date at all. And when I do, date would still be too strong a word. The longest relationship I’ve had in the past decade was a month, and I rarely saw her. It’s one thing to fuck. It’s another to want to bring a woman into my life, knowing how that turned out the one time I tried.
And yet, I can’t stop thinking about Patience with her angelic blonde hair and judgmental golden eyes.
I’ve never touched a student.
Never been tempted.
Until her.
I find myself circling. Provoking her in class just to hear what her sharp tongue has to say. I’ve never met anyone with so much fire. So many walls. So many secrets. Her defenses rival my own, and all it does is make me want to tear them down and figure out what she’s hiding beneath them.
She shouldn’t trust me, but I want her to.
I’m curious to see what it would take to get her to hand herself over, body and soul. To watch her edges soften. To see her submit.
My pulse thunders and my fists clench. The more I’m around her, the more I lose sight of my mission. It’s shifting, changing. I need to bleed this girl from my veins.
“Professor?” Sophia reaches for my arm, and I pull away, snapping out of my thoughts.
Her fingers barely graze my forearm, and I have the sudden urge to scrape my skin off. It’s been a long time since I’ve invited someone’s touch—longer since I’ve hungered for it. And even if the urge has been rattling through me lately, it’s not Sophia my body is craving.
“I think we’re done for the day.” I lean back in my chair, putting more distance between us.
Sophia frowns. “I thought we were going to review the second-draft outlines for the class’s research papers.”
“That can wait until tomorrow.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but the door to my office swings open, cutting her off.
Patience steps into the room, her back perfectly straight and her hands at her sides. She forces her chin up, narrowing her golden eyes.
Her fire incinerates every thought. Erases all my good intentions.
If I’m being honest, it erases the bad ones as well, which is even more dangerous. She’s lighting my life up in flames.
“You gave me a B?” Patience’s fingers clench.
It’s the only hint at her frustration when it’s clear she wants to remain composed. My gaze drops to those hands. To her delicate wrists that I’d like to bind. Lithe limbs I’d like to twist and bend until this girl finally learns what it means to submit to someone.
I’ve never had thoughts like this about a student. Anyone, for that matter.
Patience Lancaster breaks my fucking composure.
“Have you heard of knocking?” Sophia glares.
Patience scans my office for the first time since storming in, tearing her attention away from me.
I hate it. I want those eyes on me at all times.
Her gaze snaps to Sophia, who was about to stand, but is now comfortably reclining beside my desk in some immature, territorial act of war against Patience.
I’ve had enough.
“Leave us, Sophia.”
“But—”
My eyes narrow, and she swallows hard, pushing to stand. She gathers her things, offering a venomous glare to Patience as she pushes past. But Patience’s face doesn’t so much as twitch or falter. She keeps perfectly composed as Sophia closes the door a little too hard behind her.
And then it’s just me and the source of my obsession—the girl who broke all my rules the second she fell into my lap—alone.
“I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.” A beautiful flare of jealousy ignites in her wild, golden eyes.
“We were done.” I tilt my head, assessing her. “Can I help you with something?”
I love that my question brightens her cheeks. A rosy blush crawls up her neck. Resistant as she can be, her body responds in subtle ways to everything, and I pay attention. I’d like to strip her down to nothing and see what else I can get.
“I want to talk about my grade on the criminal profiling assignment.” Her spine straightens.
“You don’t agree with it?”
“No.” Her shoulders pull back. “I spent three days researching.”
“Research isn’t everything.” My fingers thrum on the arm of my chair, and her eyes drop to the movement. “Not all answers can be found between the pages of a book.”
“Research implies gathering information.”
“Gathering. Analyzing. Interpreting.” My focus stays trained on her.
“Anyone can recite back to me what they read. I want to know your thoughts. Criminal psychology isn’t as simple as fitting a criminal into a pre-formed mold.
You have to identify what makes them unique.
What sets them apart. The best criminal psychologists aren’t just smart, they’re creative. ”
“Now you’re saying I’m unoriginal.”
“I’m saying your paper pales in comparison to what you’re capable of.”
She swallows, and I grip the arms of my chair so I don’t cross the room and wrap my fingers around her perfect neck.
Patience is innocent. Fragile.
She really should stop putting herself in my path.
“Why do you doubt yourself?” I ask, brushing that thought aside.
Her golden eyes narrow. “I don’t.”
“You want people to think you don’t, but you do. It holds you back.”
“I have straight A’s.”
“At Briar Academy.” My jaw ticks just thinking about that place. “Your teachers there don’t expect enough out of you.”
Patience huffs. Her annoyance flares to the surface.
“My comment irritates you?”
“You irritate me.” Her eyes widen as the words slip out, like she just realized what she said and who she is talking to, but she doesn’t take it back. “Why did you even let me into this program if you clearly don’t think I’m good enough?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You might as well have.”
“Patience.” Her name feels so good on my tongue.
Her reaction to me saying it is even better.
Her shoulders relax, and she practically melts.
“The question isn’t why I let you into the program, it’s why you came here at all.
Because I already know you’re good enough, but you don’t, and that will be your limit every time if you don’t break through it. ”
She blinks.
Doubt swims in her eyes.
Vulnerability she hasn’t shown since the plane floods her gaze.
“I don’t know what you’re holding on to or what holds you back.” Or why I care when that wasn’t why I brought her to LA in the first place. “But if you want more, you’re going to have to let down your defenses.”
“We aren’t talking about my paper anymore, are we?”
Smart girl.
“No.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the desk.
“It’s not that simple,” she grumbles.
That much, I believe, and I want to know what caused this. What hurt her so deeply that she can’t see what she’s capable of when she lets herself be free.
“It can be simple if you want it to be,” I assure her. “What do you want from this summer, Patience?”
“From the program?”
“Are your goals with the program the only reason you came to LA?”
Her gaze darts off. “No.”
“Then you answered your own question.”
She toys with her sleeves. Long sleeves in the middle of summer. It’s rare she shows skin, and while I thought nothing of it at first, I’m starting to think there’s more to it than her being modest.
After a long pause, she finally looks at me again. “I want to prove myself.”
“To who?”
“My parents.”
My teeth grit just thinking about her asshole father. “That’s all?”
“No.” She bites her lower lip.
“Who else?”
“Myself.” She sounds less sure about that answer, even if I sense we’re finally getting to the truth.
“What do you need to prove to yourself?” I lean back in my chair, appreciating that her gaze skims over me at that. “That you can pass this program?”
She shakes her head. “That I can make my own decisions.”
Interesting.
Just when I think I have her figured out, she spins things around.
“I have no doubt you’re capable of anything you want.” It’s rare that I mean it, but with Patience Lancaster’s fire, I don’t have a doubt in my mind she could run the world if she wanted.
Her gaze drops to the floor. “We can’t be talking like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like we did on the plane.”
“Why not?”
She looks up at me. “Because you were just some guy to me back then.”
“What am I now?”
“My professor. My mentor.” Annoyance bleeds in her tone. “Someone I look up to.”
“Interesting.” I grin.
Patience rolls her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late.” I tap my thumb on the arm of my chair. “So all those things are a problem for you?”
“Isn’t it a problem for you?”
It should be. I’ve crossed so many lines that the blood on my hands has seeped through to my soul at this point. But never this particular one. And never with the daughter of a man I intend to ruin.
“No.” What’s one more mark on my soul? What’s wrong with one taste of heaven before I burn in hell?
Patience pauses, watching me with her beautiful eyes, considering my answer. “You said you don’t cross this line with students.”
“Consider yourself my exception. Everyone has one.”
“Why me?”
“Honestly?”
She nods, biting the inside of her cheek.
“I like how hard you bite.” With her words. Her presence.
Patience is sharp and difficult. Complex. Challenging. I hang on her every word when I know I shouldn’t.
Her shoulders deflate. “It’s exhausting.”
“I can imagine.” It’s why we’re drawn to each other; she’s desperate to let her defenses down and let go, and I’m desperate to be the one to help her.
“Do you want me to teach you how to let go? The same way I did on the plane? That’s why you really walked into my office tonight, isn’t it?
Not because of some grade that doesn’t really matter when this program is pass or fail.
You just wanted an excuse to be here—with me. You want me to help you.”
She opens her mouth—
“Honesty,” I remind her.
She swallows hard. “Yes.”
“Good. Then come. Sit.” I wave a hand, but when she moves to sit in the chair on the opposite side of my desk, I shake my head. “Not there.”
My gaze drops to the spot on the desk in front of me, and I wait for her to make this decision. For her to accept that there’s no avoiding this collision, just like I’ve had to. I need to claim her—to have her. Then I can reevaluate what I’m doing.
She takes a deep breath, and I wait for her to walk away, but she circles the desk instead. Proof this isn’t one-sided.
When Declan promised to deliver the Lancaster daughter, I expected someone breakable. Someone sweet and innocent I could hang over her father’s head until he broke. I didn’t expect this ball of fire that sears me from the inside out.
She’s perfect.
Dangerous.
If I’m not careful, she’ll drag me down with them.
Her back is stiff as she rests her ass on the desk in front of me, so close I can smell her perfume, and I know I’m fucked. My plans fly out the window. My need for her is too damn strong.
“Scoot back on the desk.”
She does as she’s told. So obedient when I’m used to her arguing with me.
“Do you trust me?” I ask. “Honestly.”
“No.”
“Good.” I smirk. “You shouldn’t trust me. Not yet. I haven’t earned it. But will you let me try?”
Her chest rises and falls; her pupils are blown wide. “Yes.”
I lift from my chair, towering as I plant my hands on her knees. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, Patience?”
Her cheeks pinken as she loosens her thighs and lets me rock them open. “Yes, Professor.”
“Jacob,” I correct her. “When it’s just us, you call me by my name like you did on the plane.”
“Jacob,” she whispers.
“Good girl.”