3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Noah
I can't remember the last time I had to shift my pants to hide an erection in the presence of a woman, let alone a student.
Over the past three years of teaching, not a single student has ever triggered such a reaction from my body, even the ones who were easy on the eyes.
Working in colleges, I always know my age and the age of my students will clash. At only thirty, my face is deceiving, often catching the attention of students and staff alike. At first, I was flattered, thinking I must be doing something right. Now, it bothers me how often the girls in my classroom gawk, looking at me as if I’m about to bend them over my desk and take them.
It’s the last thing I’d ever let myself entertain.
So tell me, why the hell did Anastasia Burns have me readjusting my cock after she threw me that shitty attitude when we were alone this morning? When I looked at her, I could see in her eyes that the last thing on her mind was my looks. No, she wanted to push me. She wanted to see if she could make me snap with annoyance.
In most scenarios, a student like that would go straight to admin. I’ve done it plenty of times before. So why am I so eager to hear her pretty mouth open and try to deliver me a new one?
When I grabbed her wrist and watched her defenseless eyes peer up at me, something twisted entered my mind, only adding to the blood flow building between my legs.
I like seeing her so vulnerable because of my authority.
I regretfully loved it even more when she took off that hoodie.
She doesn’t notice, too busy throwing me nasty looks, but many of the boys in the classroom stare at her, eyes devouring her enticing curves and fiery red hair. Her cheeks flush pink, her eyes a bright green-blue. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth as she writes, and I struggle to hold back the urge to explore her chest with my eyes, focusing instead on how her nipples poke through that tight shirt.
Why am I looking at her so closely? I’ve been with enough women to keep thoughts like this stowed away. It’s not like I’ve never seen a woman like her before. There are hundreds of beautiful women on this campus, plenty in teaching positions, yet I can’t stop myself from watching her devour Walker’s half-assed attempt at flirting. The moment she takes off her hoodie, he makes a beeline for her desk, doing what so many boys in the class are too nervous to do... flirt with her.
Now sitting inches apart, they scoot their desks closer together, flipping through Shakespeare's plays, trying to decide on a scene.
His knee brushes against hers, and his hand hovers near her thigh, but he quickly decides to keep it to himself, despite how desperately he wishes he could feel her.
I tap my pen against my desk, forcing myself to look away from the pair and focus on the other students huddled together in their groups. It’s not like he and Ana are doing anything out of the ordinary, so why the hell am I so agitated by the sight?
Trying to concentrate on finalizing my lesson plans for the week, the quiet room is suddenly rattled by an addictive laugh, quickly stifled by her hands as she glances up at my desk.
Red in the cheeks from embarrassment, Ana hides her laugh. Moving his head away from her ear, it’s clear Walker whispered something to her, causing her to burst out in laughter. Laughter I wouldn’t mind hearing again.
The problem is, I hate that he’s the one making her laugh.
"I didn’t realize Shakespeare was such a comedic topic, Ms. Burns," I say with annoyance, making sure to enunciate her name.
"Sorry, Mr. Ackerman," she replies with an icy gaze. "Won’t happen again, sir," she adds, throwing me an innocent expression.
The flood of heat begins again at the sound of "sir" from her mouth, and I thank God for this desk. It’s the only thing hiding the burden I’m forced to carry right now.
Keeping her cold gaze fixed on me, I challenge her with one of my own.
She only looks away when Walker whispers something else to her, and I watch as she nods, her face lighting up with a smile at the sight of him.
As the bell chimes, signaling the end of class, the students begin gathering their things, eager to rush off to their next class. My eyes follow Walker as he trails beside her, and before I can stop myself, my mouth starts moving faster than my mind.
"Ms. Burns, you mind staying back for a few moments?" I ask, watching the confused expressions flash across both her and Walker's faces.
"Why?" she asks, already bracing for a fight.
"Your attitude this morning hasn’t been addressed," I warn, surprised by the authority in my voice. "We can talk in front of your friend or you and I can have a private discussion."
Her eyes narrow with anger, making it clear I've pissed her off once again.
"I’ll catch you around campus," she says to Walker. "I’ll text you about the movie if my friends are okay with you coming," she adds, flashing him a bright smile, earning a smirk from him.
"I hope to hear from you."
She gives me a brief, nasty look, and I can tell Walker is far from amused by me.
Pity.
She moves closer to my desk, watching Walker leave before crossing her arms when we’re finally alone.
"Yes?" she asks, her voice dripping with disdain, allowing herself to look down on me.
I clench my jaw, waiting until I know I’m safe to stand, then rise slowly, allowing my body to move around the desk. I take my stand, looking down at her, feeling her confident facade begin to falter the longer I hold her gaze.
What is she thinking right now?
Is her heart racing at the idea of being in trouble?
Or is it racing because of me?
"I won't have you speak to me like that again in my classroom," I say, my voice low and sharp as I give her a stern look.
"Then don't give me a reason to speak to you that way," she snaps back. "The last thing I need right now is to suffer through a semester with a teacher who has it out for me-"
"Maybe a good start would be less talking during class," I fire back, my words coming faster than my thoughts.
"With Walker?" she questions, her eyes narrowing. "He's my scene partner. What else were we supposed to do-"
"That's all you and Walker were talking about? Just class work?" I ask, the curiosity slipping out before I can stop it.
I don’t know where this nosiness is coming from.
"I don't see how that's any of your business-" she starts, but I cut her off.
"You're in my classroom, Anastasia," I seethe, watching her tense at the use of her full name. "What happens here is entirely under my control." I take another step closer, feeling the air between us shift. "So when I tell you to speak to me with more respect, I expect that to happen."
She slowly nods her head, a smirk tugging at her lips.
God, the things I could do to that mouth to wipe that smirk clean off her face.
Why isn't she backing down? Why does she stand here with such defiance?
"Fine, Ackerman," she says, dropping the honorific. "I'll give you all the gratification and respect you want," she sneers, something bitter underlying her tone. "So long as you refrain from staring at my breasts next time my nipples decide to show on a cold day. When you want to have a look, maybe just ask me directly instead of hiding behind a book."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, too frazzled to find my response. She pats my chest with an almost careless gesture, completely unfazed by my anger.
"I have a lot bigger things to worry about than a power-hungry, self-absorbed teacher," she hisses. "Maybe you should have singled out one of the dozen other students who would have loved some one-on-one time with you. Have a good rest of your day-" She pauses, grabs my badge, and takes her sweet time looking over the name. "Noah."
She walks away, grabbing her bag, leaving me utterly frozen, caught in a wave of confusion and some dangerous, unhealthy emotions.
My nails dig into my palms so hard that my knuckles turn white, and I have to fight the instinct to coil my hand into her long red hair, to force her to shut up and focus on something else.
A flare of heat rushes to my cheeks, and I can feel the blood flow between my legs rise as I try to process what the hell just happened.
"When you want to have a look, maybe just ask me directly…."
So this is a game for you, Anastasia? One that you think you have the upper hand in?
Tapping my foot, I glance at her empty desk, the memory of her smirk lingering in my mind.
"I'm just disciplining her," I whisper to myself, trying to convince myself. "That's all this is."
The next set of students begin filing into class, but I look past every single one of them, not once pausing or watching the way I had with her.
Game or not-
Something deep inside tells me that today is not the last time Anastasia Burns will take residence in my mind.