4. Chapter 3
RYAN
“C’mon, doll face, just one dinner. That won’t kill you, right?” Landon grinned beside me, his hand ghosting over the back of my chair. “I invite all the new students. Well, the hot ones.”
I gave Landon an easy smile. His blue eyes lingered on my collarbones, where I’d dabbed some moisturizing balm earlier so they’d catch the light.
Then his gaze climbed back to my face and he gave me a faux-pleading look. “We’ll have fun.”
I looked him over, teasing. “I don’t know… I don’t think you could handle me.”
He leaned in. “I could handle a lot.”
A soft scoff came from behind me. I glanced over and saw a skinny brunette glaring in our direction. Hazel eyes narrowed, then flicked down as he pushed his glasses up.
Landon’s smirk faltered. He dropped his hand. His jaw tightened, and he didn’t bother looking at me now.
Awkward.
“Do I wanna know what that’s about?” I teased.
“Just my loser stepbrother. Ignore him.” Landon leaned back in his chair, but then raised his voice, loud enough for the brunette to hear. “Some people need to learn to mind their own business.”
“Some people should learn to keep it in their pants—”
Their voices blurred into background noise when the door swung open.
“Good evening, class.”
I sat up straighter the moment I saw Mr. Thorne.
I licked my lips, grateful I’d picked the front row today.
Class was a whole lot better when I was actually dry and knew he was going to be my view for the next hour and a half.
God, the man was something else.
Good to know he's just as hot as I remembered him.
Students greeted him as he set his papers down, but I just sat there, taking him in.
Tight khakis. Button-up shirt hugging broad shoulders and a muscular build. His dark, rich hair was cropped short but long enough that I could probably grab a fistful of it in bed.
Freshly shaved. A shadow of scruff still visible on his jaw. I bit my lip, ignoring Landon, who was still trying to drag me into conversation.
Fuck off, Landon.
I subtly leaned my chair away. A snort came from behind me, but I didn’t turn around. The last thing I wanted was for Mr. Thorne to think I was messing around with these little boys.
Why would I? There was a much better prize right in front of me.
He glanced my way, just for a split second. I caught it and gave him a small smile and a wave.
Keeping it cute, today.
He frowned a bit but then quickly turned back to the board.
I hope he doesn't think I was a walking mood swing.
I’d been a bit…under the weather when we met yesterday, literally. I was drenched! And my father always put me in a bad mood; just being around him brought so many bad memories.
Devon's stupid reminder of the incident didn't help.
I knew I would feel better after going to sleep, and I did, though I woke up mortified that that was the sexy professor's first impression of me.
Everything about yesterday was a disaster I wanted to rewrite. I shouted at him in the elevator, then called him a sick freak in his own classroom. Ugh, totally don't want to ever relive that day.
But he forgave me so quickly and even gave me a ride home, so surely there's no bad blood.
I barely knew him, but I liked that about him, his patience. Though it does make him vulnerable. If he ever gave the wrong kind of student a ride home, someone unhinged, they could latch onto him in a second.
He smiled at the class. “I hope everyone did their reading, as outlined in the syllabus.”
Groans rose from around the room. I barely noticed them. I couldn’t stop staring at those dark eyes against his warm olive skin and dark brown hair.
The gift that keeps on giving.
He picked up a piece of chalk, writing his name on the board. His hand dwarfed the stick of chalk completely.
Jesus. I could still feel the memory of his gloves on my hands, how they’d swallowed me whole.
Notebooks appeared around me as he began discussing the rise of categorizing dissociative personalities and the historical figures behind advancements in theoretical psychology.
“Any questions?”
A brunette across the room raised her hand. “Yeah… do you do tutoring?” Her tone was blatantly inappropriate. That was our professor! Have some decorum.
I felt irritation spike as he smiled politely. “No, but I have a TA. If you’re ever confused on a topic, I can gladly send him your way.”
Too nice.
I leaned back, studying him in his element. Calm. Confident. Completely at ease.
I leaned forward again, resting my chin in my hands.
From his white teeth to the strength in his arms, he was—
“No wonder you rejected me,” Landon’s voice cut in.
I shot him a look. “What? What does that mean?”
He snorted. “Seriously?”
I kept my face neutral.
He shook his head and went back to copying notes. “You know he’s married, right?” he added under his breath, smirking.
A sharp pain went through my arm and I set my pen down. My heart started pounding, matching the beat in my ears.
“Obviously,” I said. “He’s not ugly.”
“Yeah? Not ugly, huh? I’m sure his wife thinks so too.” Landon chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.
I leaned back in my seat, but now my mind wouldn’t stop circling around that woman. Dammit, Landon. I couldn’t even enjoy the view in front of me anymore.
What did she look like? Blonde like me? Serious? Older? Was she one of those graceful, perfect women who looked like they belonged in a magazine spread? Did she know half the class probably wanted to fuck her husband? Did she care?
I realized I’d started chewing on my pen, trying to piece her face together in my head. It felt like something heavy was pressing against my chest, making it harder to breathe.
Why did it bother me so much that he was married?
I just met him.
“Besides,” I said with a forced smile, “married to a woman? He sounds single to me.”
The words tasted sour the second they left my mouth.
Was he the cheating type? Just like my father?
“Wow,” Landon grinned, then lost it completely, laughing loud enough to break the flow of the room.
Mr. Thorne turned sharply, eyes narrowing on him. “Care to share with the class?”
Landon shot me a look, still grinning, but shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Alright then. Silence is appreciated,” Mr. Thorne said, scanning the rest of the room. “No talking unless you have a question.”
So strict. So commanding.
So married. So unavailable.
Fuck.
***
After class, I ended up hanging around way past normal hours, it was creeping up on 9 p.m. The class was only supposed to be til 8:30, but his office hours dragged on forever.
What the hell could people possibly have to discuss with him when the semester had just started?
The line outside his office slowly thinned, but not fast enough for me. I could hear flirtatious laughter from inside and it made my jaw tighten. He was too nice for his own good, he needed better boundaries. If they weren’t getting actual help, they should have been told to leave.
I’d even let some guy cut in front of me so I could be the last one, but now I was starting to regret it.
Finally, a girl walked out smiling, linking arms with her friends.
“Come in,” I heard him call.
I stepped inside and his eyes flicked up, then did a quick double take. He was packing up.
“Hey, good to see a familiar face,” his warm, rich voice spread through me, blooming in my chest.
“Hey yourself,” I said with a smile, closing the door behind me and walking toward his desk.
I didn’t bother with the empty chairs. Instead, I stopped right beside him. He looked up from where he sat.
“Feeling better?” he asked. “From yesterday I mean…not sick, correct?”
He was relaxed, calm, so I stepped a little closer.
He noticed, but didn’t say anything. Leaned back slightly in his chair.
“Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks again.” I grinned. “Best ride of my life.”
He gave me a small, wry smile. His eyes assessed me. “Of course, forcing you to walk back to your dorms would be cruel, especially on your first day on campus.”
Cute.
“Totally. I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Ryan and I always like getting to know all my professors...intimately.” My voice was as sweet as I could make it.
He furrowed his eyebrows for a millisecond, before giving a tight smile. “I'm happy to hear that, Ryan .”
God, even the way he said my name was hot. In his deep, rich voice.
“I'm glad to see your spirits are higher than—”
“Yeah! I'm usually a pretty easy person to get along with.” I grin, “Yesterday was just pretty rough.”
“Hm. The weather?” He probes, his eyes kind but very concentrated on my words.
Nope, my father.
“Yeah exactly. I hate the feeling of being cold. Sorry if I was kind of an asshole.”
I pretend not to notice him sweeping my outfit; hopefully he notices how tight my skinny jeans are, making my ass look great.
His eyes return to mine and he offers the barest curve of his lips.“Nonsense. All is forgiven. But Ryan, if there's anything more ever going on in your life, there are resources and…I'm not a therapist but I can offer my best advice with the credentials I have.”
I focused on not twitching or flinching. Did my behavior make him think I was unstable?
Okay, calm down, Ryan. Don't freak out or else you'll confirm to him that you need help.
I plastered a smile on so fast, it almost hurt.
I laughed, “Yeah, thanks I'll keep that in mind. But doing pretty good.”
He nodded, his face once again unreadable.
I don't like that. Not a big fan of how perceptive he was. At all.
He glanced around briefly, shoved some books into his bag, then stood, so close now I could almost feel the warmth from him.
Our eyes locked for a beat longer than necessary before he stepped back just enough to create space.
That’s fine.
“So, how are you liking the class? Have you taken a psych course before?” he asked, checking his watch.
I slid a few papers to the side and hopped up onto his desk, sitting cross-legged. His eyebrows rose a little, and although he started to say something, he stopped when I looked up, mouth tugging upward.
For the briefest moment it looked like his eye twitched.
“Yeah, I took one at my old university. But I already like you way more.”
He kept looking at me— me , sitting on his desk. Did he like the view? He was staring at my bottom so intensely.
Fuck, I’d love to show him what he was missing.
“I’m glad, Ryan.” His expression pinched just a little, and I hated that. Step it up, Ryan. Why are you being shy?
Fuck it.
“I just like the way you teach. You make everything so easy to digest, like little pieces that actually fit in someone’s mouth.”
He chuckled. “I’ve never heard it described like that, but I appreciate it. I love teaching. It’s my passion. Especially with motivated students.”
The raw honesty in his voice pulled me closer without me even thinking.
He started talking about his thesis, how he found his passion for psychology.
“Why not therapy or psychiatry?” I asked lightly.
We’d been talking for half an hour now.
Would he rather be here with me than at home with his wife?
Maybe she was a nag. Maybe she made him miserable. Maybe I was a breath of fresh air.
That shouldn't make me this giddy.
I fucking hate cheaters. My dad made sure of that. The thought of Mr. Thorne being one makes me sick. He seemed too good for it.
And maybe that’s the problem.
Some vicious part of me wanted to see if I could make him fall. To be the reason he’d cross that line.
I hate that I want that. I hate that he might be capable of it.
“Well, although I love these concepts in theory, situational awareness escapes me.” He chuckled. “I’m not the most aware. My wife used to love reminding me, when we were out to dinner, apparently…” He lifted his fingers in air quotes. “‘I’m easy to flirt with.’”
I don’t like that. At all.
He needs to learn to catch those moments, or I’m going to drag him through hell and back.
“You really can’t tell?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.
He looked at me again, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
“Well, I definitely can now.” His calm smile held something restrained. “But I’ve learned it’s more graceful to be kind, especially when the other person isn't really someone to worry about.”
I nodded stiffly. “Yeah, I—”
I felt my ass vibrate.
“What the hell was that?”
He laughed. “I’m sorry. I should have mentioned this earlier, but you’re sitting on my phone.”
“Oh.”
I lifted myself just enough to feel it under me. I waited to see if he’d reach for it, but clearly, that was a boundary he wasn’t going to cross.
“Right.” I grabbed it and handed it to him.
He answered it immediately, putting it up to his ear.
“Yes, of course.” His tone shifted instantly, all business again, his attention gone from me. “I’m on my way. Bye, darling.”
Darling?
I snorted before I could stop myself. His eyes caught mine for a second. “Okay. Bye.”
He looked up and gave an apologetic smile. “I love chatting with you, Ryan. I hope you come to enjoy my class, but office hours are over.”
“Let me guess—your wife, huh?”
“Yeah. But it’s also eleven p.m.” He chuckled, then tilted his head. “Would you like a ride again?”
“Oh, no, it’s okay. It’s only a couple of minutes’ walk… I doubt anyone would try to attack me around this time. Besides, I have pepper spray.”
I patted my pocket, knowing damn well I didn’t have pepper spray. “Well… I forgot it, but I should be okay.” I smiled.
Come on. Offer again.
He didn’t.
We rode the elevator down, and I was still reeling from him not asking me a second time. Dammit. I should have said yes the first time.
The elevator doors closed, and I put on a small show, pretending to be nervous.
“Are you okay?” he asked, cautiously.
“No, yeah, I just hate the dark. It’s dark in here, right?”
He studied me for a beat.
“Let me at least walk you back to your dorms. It’s clear—”
“Okay. Yeah. Is that okay?” I bit my lip.
He nodded.
I felt a small thrill but kept my expression guarded, hiding behind that fragile, fearful look.
“I just have bad memories of walking alone. I just—”
“Hey, it’s okay. I wouldn’t let my student leave if they felt unsafe, alright?”
I nodded again.
Student .
For now.
Part of me buzzed with satisfaction; the longer he stayed with me, the less time he’d have with his wife tonight. The other part simmered with indignation.
Getting him to walk me home had been laughably easy, and if he were my husband, I’d be furious.
That sat like a stone in my stomach. It made me sick.
Was he a cheater?
He seemed too good for that…but a little part of me wanted him to be. Because I wanted to be the reason. The exception. The mistake he couldn’t take back.