6. Chapter 5
RYAN
Class was awkward, at least for me. I still sat in the front, but Landon had migrated closer to his stepbrother, more interested in riling him up than paying attention.
I was laser-focused on the professor. He kept avoiding my gaze. I’d even skipped class the other day, not to sulk, but to give him time to think about our kiss.
I wasn’t regretting it. Just recalculating. My window was closing, and if I didn’t wedge it open soon, he would bolt it shut.
Usually, by now, I had a man exactly where I wanted him, wrapped around my finger after one look, one pout, one come-hither glance. They were halfway undone before they even realized it.
Maybe that was the problem. I was used to boys.
Mr. Thorne—no, Nathan —was a man. Thirty-five. Married. Disciplined enough to resist temptation… for now.
Married.
The word had a way of sticking.
He made me want to act faster, harder, like my usual game wasn’t enough. And maybe it wasn’t.
But if he thought that meant I would back off, he had never met someone like me.
Or maybe he thinks you're pathetic and loves his wife.
That thought sent a tremor through me.
I had never considered that I might not stand a chance.
No, stop. That was impossible. I was attractive. Easygoing. I didn’t lose.
There had to be a flaw his wife couldn’t hide. Something she couldn’t change.
Something he secretly hated every time he looked at her.
Besides, all men cheated. My father had taught me that.
Even the good ones. Especially the good ones.
I had felt it in the way he kissed me back, the way his cock had hardened and pulsed beneath me.
I just needed to find that pressure point.
“That ends today’s lecture. Please study the material—we’ll have a quiz next week.”
The room filled with groans. When his eyes flicked to me, they shifted away immediately, but I caught the way his shoulders stiffened.
Aw, do I scare him?
Maybe he's scared of how much he wants me.
One by one, the students filtered out. He kept an eye on me as he packed up. Finally, Landon was the last to leave and shut the door behind him.
Nathan stalled, pretending to be busy. He even packed up the chalkboard eraser and the pens, things I had never seen him take with him before.
He exhaled sharply when he saw I was still standing there.
“Ryan.”
His voice was deep enough to send a pulse through me. I felt a degree hotter.
He finally stopped, folded his hands, and gave me a flat stare.
I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Miss me?”
He shook his head, his stance brimming with tension.
“What do you want, Ryan?” he asked, blunt, irritated.
I stepped closer. He stepped back. I gave him a lopsided smile. “Wow, I can’t ask my psych professor for help on my psych homework?”
He stared me down. “Do you need help, or is this an excuse to corner me?”
“Corner you?” I let my gaze travel over him, slowly. “I doubt anyone could corner a man like you.”
He shook his head and resumed shoving everything in his bag, ignoring me.
Not okay.
I turned like I was about to leave, then clicked the lock on the door.
When I turned back, he was already staring at me. “What did you do?” He glanced over my shoulder. “No, Ryan. Unlock it. I’m leaving.”
He zipped up his bag and tried to move past me, but I pressed my back to the door, folding my arms.
“I want to talk to you.”
“No.”
He realized I was blocking his way, and I bit back a smile, he was too polite to push me off. To grab me and force me aside.
In that case…
I leaned back and gave him a flirty smile, biting my bottom lip.
“Ryan.” His tone sharpened. I stayed put. If he truly wanted me gone, he would make it happen.
His eyes darkened, pitch black. He looked tired. Had his wife been keeping him up?
I didn’t like that thought.
“ Mr. Thorne,” I said, drawing out the Mr., dripping it with suggestion. His sharp gaze met mine, towering over me, but his expression was pleading, eyebrows drawn, jaw tight.
He was so incredibly delicious to mess with.
“I don’t think you’re going to move me.” I smiled, batting my eyelashes slowly, deliberately. “I think your wife is just going to have to wait.”
I didn’t move a muscle as he shook his head, and the way his lips pressed together annoyed me.
“Ryan, your antics aren’t normal.”
“Oh? Your professional opinion?”
“You’re clearly starved for male attention, maybe from your father, and now you’re mistaking mine for something it’s not. Somewhere along the line, you confused authority with desire.”
I bristled at his tone. It wasn’t even accusing, it was worse, it felt inevitable, like it was just a fact carved into stone. I swallowed something sharp, something that scratched going down.
I didn’t like the pity in his eyes. Who the hell did he think he was, looking at me like that?
“Authority,” I sneered, letting the word twist out of my mouth like it was rotten. “Do you think someone like you has any authority over me?” The laugh that came out was quick and sharp, almost ugly.
He straightened, shoulders going back. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m your professor. This is my classroom.”
“Your classroom, huh? You can’t even get through the door.” My smile stretched wider, sharper. “C’mon, prof. Use that authority of yours to get me to move.”
I stayed planted in place.
He looked me over, slow, eyes dragging. “You little —” he exhaled deeply, his hand rubbing his nose before looking at me again. “Clearly my assessment hurt your feelings. I apologize."
“I wasn’t hurt,” I go on, “I was offended that someone like you thinks they have authority over me.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“You’ve got authority over a bunch of undergrads too tired to care. Half of them will go on to make more money than you, live better than you, forget your name by next semester.” I tilted my head, smiling too widely. “But sure. Keep calling it authority if it makes you feel important.”
He studies me for a moment. I could tell he was trying his hardest not to snap at me.
“You’re a child, Ryan. One day you’ll understand there’s so much more to life than money and your idealized version of power.” His voice softened, but not in a way that made me feel better. “Like love, respect, and—.”
“Oh, so you’re in love? Really?”
“Of course I am. I’m married for a reason.”
Like that meant anything.
I bit back the urge to say it, something hot burned up under my skin.
Why do I care? I don’t. I don’t care. Not even a little bit.
“What do you even love about her?” The words slipped out quieter than I meant.
“She’s…mature.” He hesitated.
“That's it?” I scoffed, holding back a laugh.
“More than I could say about you, you're no better than a kid.” He snapped.
Asshole.
I felt hurt, and I shouldn’t. He’s married, in a committed relationship. I have no rights here. I barely know him. But I feel robbed .
I still remember when my dad’s affection was stolen from me by the first woman he cheated with— Catherine . She took everything. Took something that didn’t belong to her.
Now it’s happening again. Mr. Thorne wasn’t mine, but I hate that he was stolen from me before I even had the chance to get him.
If we had crossed paths first, we would be together. I know we would.
“Mature is just code for old.” I smiled, my tone turning mocking.
He shook his head. “She's not—” Then he shook his head, stepped closer, voice firmer. “I’m not playing this game anymore. I want to go home to my wife.”
My wife. My wife. That’s all he fucking talked about.
What about me?
“I’m kindly asking you to move, Ryan.”
I observed him, his face, the tension in his jaw, his mouth…
“Kiss me.”
He froze. “No.”
I grinned. “You already kissed me before. What’s one more? I can stand here all day.”
He looked hard at me, and I saw it, his eyes flicked to my lips before snapping back to mine.
“If you don’t…” I let the pause stretch until it’s almost uncomfortable, “…maybe the school board hears about that kiss.”
His jaw tightened, breath slow, measured. I could tell he was trying to hold it together.
“So much for that little nice act, huh?” he says, low. “Seems you're good at lying.”
Ouch.
“Nice doesn’t get you anywhere. People only get what they want with leverage—” my gaze sweeps over him, deliberate, before climbing back to his face, “—or blackmail.” I take a step closer, lowering my voice.
“And you? You’re not even in control of your own life, Nathan .
Can’t keep your wife happy. Can’t keep me out of your classroom. Hell, you can’t even make me move.”
His jaw flexed, and he bit his cheek. I don’t think he’ll do it, but then he grabbed my face and I inhaled sharply. He leaned in, but turned my head slightly, lips brushed my cheek in a quick peck before pulling back.
I blinked at him, confused. He looked right at me, not breaking eye contact.
“That’s cheating.”
My voice came off higher-pitched than I would have liked. As if I were whining. I wasn’t.
He scoffed under his breath. “ Ryan. ”
“A real kiss.”
“It won’t mean anything,” he gritted.
I stared at him. “I don’t care.”
Silence.
“Nathan…”
He sighed, leaned in again, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re a problem, such a brat .” His words sent a shiver down my spine. “Close your eyes.”
I gave him a wide-eyed stare before fluttering them shut. I stayed frozen, face heating when nothing happened, then his lips were on mine.
His lips were soft, but the kiss was rough. Invasive.
His hands brushed over my hip bone, hesitated, then pulled back. A second later, I heard the bang of his fists hitting the door, and I startled, only parting my lips more, letting him deepen the kiss.
He planted both hands on the door by my head, caging me in. Maybe to stop himself from grabbing my ass. Or maybe to make sure I couldn’t slip away.
I felt a bit cornered, his much larger body towering over me, and forcing me.
God, what if I pushed him far enough to just screw me?
Could I do that to a man like Nathan? Piss him off until no amount of begging would stop him from bending me over and stuffing my hole with his hard cock—
I whimpered involuntarily and felt one of his hands tilt my chin up, cupping my jaw.
I was getting lightheaded as he pressed further into me, his mouth forcing mine into a pliant mess.
Then he groaned, deep and low. So manly and rough.
Fuck.
He started to pull away, but I hooked my hands behind his neck and yanked him closer.
His breath caught, breaking into a low growl.
Suddenly, his hands were on my waist, firm, right above my ass. His fingers skimmed the edge of where I wanted them, teasing. I caught his wrists and dragged them lower until his palms were full of me, then tangled my hands back in his hair.
He gripped my ass hard, fingers digging in, before jiggling it in his palm like he was seeing what he could get away with. The rough squeeze made my hips shift into him, and he didn’t stop, kneading like I was just there to fill his hands.
His grip got harsher, greedier, until a sharp smack jolted through me.
Suddenly, he was lifting me like I weighed nothing.
I let out a small yelp and felt his chest vibrate with a deep chuckle.
Jesus, he’s strong.
I kept my eyes shut as my legs wrapped around his waist. He tasted so good. My head felt light.
I wanted him. I needed him. I didn’t care what I had to do.
“Fuck, I can't stop…” he muttered angrily between kisses, moving us somewhere.
Then I heard the sound of papers and pens clattering to the floor.
What was he doing?
He didn't break the kiss, as I felt myself being set down onto his desk.
I kept my eyes closed.
He shoved me down onto the desk, the edge digging into my lower back as he climbed up after me, crowding my space.
The polished, self-controlled professor was gone. this man was forcing my thighs apart, slotting himself between them like he wasn’t going to let me close them again.
I was burning.
“Professor?” My voice came out breathless between kisses.
I knew he was far gone, buzzing with lust since he started kissing my neck, gnawing lightly just under my ear.
“Hmm… is that how you kiss your wife?” I teased softly—
Then his teeth sank into my neck.
“Ouch—”
He stopped.
His eyes were dark and heavy, his mouth curling into a sensual smirk. Then he started pulling my thighs apart, pressing his clothed cock right against my ass like he couldn’t help himself.
Did he even hear me?
“I’m going to fuck some respect into you,” he murmured, voice dazed, hand already tugging at my zipper.
I tried to help, grabbing at it to pull it down, but he pinned my arms on either side of my face and glared.
“Don’t. Touch.”
He was completely gone, breathing hard, hair messy, eyes brimming with lust. He looked younger somehow, reckless.
“Okay…” I squeaked.
His mouth was on mine again, rough and deep, while his other hand yanked my zipper down and shoved my pants and undies to my knees.
I let them slide down my thighs, panting as he ripped them the rest of the way off.
He dragged me closer to the edge of the desk and then dropped down in front of me, his face level with my thighs.
He spread me wide, his eyes locked on me like I was something he was about to devour. His breath hit first, hot, uneven, before his tongue dragged up the inside of my inner thigh until my hips jerked forward.
Please.
Yes. Yes—
Knock.
Knock.
“Mr. Thorne, are you still there? The light’s on and your car’s out. Just an FYI, your wife called the admin office and—”
The rest blurred when he let go of me like I was on fire.
He froze, eyes widening, the lust draining as reality slammed back in. His jaw twitched; he bit his tongue.
No…
I sat up, and he threw my pants at me.
“Professor—”
“Don’t.” His voice was sharper than ever, and he didn’t bother to make eye contact.
I shut up instantly.
He roughly combed a hand through his hair, grabbed his things, and walked out like I’d never happened, like I was just a bad dream.
I pulled my pants back on, my lips still tasting him, his cologne scent burrowing on my skin. It had started as lust, but it wasn’t enough anymore. I wanted more.
All of him. Every piece he was trying to keep for himself.
Now, I knew he wanted me too.