Chapter Two
Walker
What the hell am I doing?
Rosie said she wasn’t interested. It was straightforward, poignant, and without hesitation. She knows what she wants, what she can handle, and she wasn’t afraid to tell me.
I admire this about her. She isn’t a follower.
She does what she knows is right, which makes it beyond disrespectful that I followed her into the hall.
Even more so that I’ve been staring at her tits, fantasizing about her on my lap, wondering what kinds of sounds she makes when she’s being pleasured, all while I’m supposed to be teaching a class.
God, I need help. In twenty years of teaching, I’ve never once crossed a line with one of my students. There are plenty of young girls running around here with their tits hanging out and their asses on display. I’ve never once given them a second glance.
Why would I? There are twenty plus years between me and these students. I have no right to want them, no right to look, no right to lust or fantasize.
I hand Rosie the piece of paper with my address scratched on the back. “Before you make your decision on the research assistant position, I’d like to show you something.”
She blinks up at me, pretty round cheeks dotted with freckles, her long red curls swept across her shoulder. “Is this the address to your house?”
“I’m delivering it in person because I don’t want it public.” That’s a lie. I didn’t email it to her because I didn’t want a paper trail of my inappropriate behavior.
She grins and glances up at me. “Or you’re afraid you’ll get in trouble for giving students your home address.”
I wouldn’t expect any less from her. The second Rosie stepped into my class, I knew she was different.
All that was confirmed when she handed in her first paper.
It was an essay on the illusions of self.
Unlike others, she argued that the ever-changing self is the truest form of one’s illusion.
Therefore, the only illusion is that one’s self is stable.
It’s a unique take, and I enjoy the directions her brain goes in.
I’m halfway through my thought when I notice Dean Andrews out of the corner of my eye.
The man is a massive asshole with a severe superiority complex.
Given the chance, he loves to corner folks and offer up long-winded discussions about himself and his successes.
Most of the staff avoid him at all costs, but we’re the only two faculty members in the hallway, and I’ve already made eye contact.
I nod toward him, hoping he’s got better places to be this afternoon. The last thing I want is an interruption, though maybe it’s what I need. I can’t imagine the hell Dean Andrews would rain down on me if he knew I was inviting a student to my home.
I should listen to these warning bells going off in the back of my head.
They’re honest and I know they’re there to help.
Instead, I wait for the dean to pass, then turn my attention back toward Rosie and her perfectly round tits.
“No need to knock. I’ll be on the back patio at seven-thirty with dinner. ”
She bites back a smile. “You must really be stuck with this book.”
That, and I’m desperate to spend time alone with you.
God, I sound like one of my dumbass brothers! I just got done giving Archer a lecture about dating younger women, now here I am abusing my power to get one alone.
“Yes.” I drag my hand over my beard as I train my gaze to lock with hers instead of her cleavage. “Like I told you before, you have a unique view I’m curious to know more about.”
“My views aren’t that unique. I mean, there are so many intelligent people here. Professor Dean just walked by. He has like four degrees, he’s traveled the world twice, and everyone respects him. You should see what his thoughts on the topic are.”
Swallowing hard, I stare at the sweet, little redhead I can’t get out of my head.
“Intelligence can build a world, but insight understands it. You have copious amounts of insight, Rosie. Every paper you turn in proves it more and more. I believe you’ll be of great help with this book.
” I draw in a heavy breath and let it out slowly.
“However, don’t feel obligated. I only thought I’d offer you an option to take a closer look at my research. ”
She glances at the note, then back up at me. “And you’re sure you’re not one of those psycho student killers? I read about this professor online who picked students out of his class to torture.”
“Smart of you to check.” I grin and shake my head. “No killing here, though the blonde in the front row is getting on my nerves. She’d obviously be the first one to go.”
“Really?” Rosie sneaks a glance in my direction. “She’s gorgeous. I thought everyone loved it when gorgeous people talked to them.”
“Beauty is perception.” I drag my gaze down over Rosie’s curved frame, inadvertently pausing where her thighs meet.
Jesus, I’m a mess.
“Well,” Rosie massages the back of her neck, “I’m pretty sure everyone perceives the blonde as gorgeous. She’s skinny, her boobs are huge, and I don’t think she’s had a bad hair day all semester.”
“And yet, she’s not the one I’m noticing.”
Rosie’s full pink lips drop open as she stares toward me, blushing.
For a shameful second, my mind slips to imagining her on her knees, obeying my commands, sucking my hard cock with a moan in her throat as I tug on those pretty red curls.
Jesus Christ! She’s a student! A young, sweet, innocent student! I need to clean this up before I make an even bigger mess!
“I’m only saying I notice you because of your insight.” I struggle to hold my gaze on hers instead of letting my eyes wander toward her tits again.
Damn, why is this so hard? I’m an educated man. I don’t usually notice such physical things about women… at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. Apparently, I’m as barbaric as the rest of the male population. “I appreciate authenticity.”
Rosie nods slowly as she darts her gaze away. “Well, ugh, I guess… thank you.” She brushes her fingers back through her hair. “I, ugh, I’m not sure I can make it or not. I have a… thing.”
Fuck! I scared her away!
“I understand.” I nod quickly. “If you change your mind, I’ll be there.”
Before turning away, she wets her lips and stares up at me like she might have something more to say, though her inhibition doesn’t let her say it.
Dear fucking God, I’m a broken man. A fucking sick, broken man who’s trying to ruin an innocent girl.
What the hell am I doing?
I know why I called her down to the podium. Sure, I want her help with the book, but I want her help with the book because my cock is hard as fuck for her. Her brain, her curves, her softness, the way she carries herself. It’s a cocktail I’d gladly drink forever.
I knew that when I gave her my card, when I invited her back to my house, and when I told her that she’s the one I noticed. I should’ve just torn up her skirt and fucked her little pussy right there in the lecture hall. At least then I wouldn’t be a liar.
I’m lost in the fantasy of having my way with my student when I realize Rosie has left and Dean Andrews is standing in her place. “Professor Wilder.” He stares at me with the only expression he knows. It’s a subtle cross between annoyance and arrogance.
I can’t imagine what he’d have to say. It’s the end of the day, and I’m not signing up for any extracurriculars this semester. It took me years to learn that being an overachiever only hurts myself.
Shit! Maybe that’s what this is about!
“Tiffany Holden, a blonde girl from your afternoon 201, I’m giving her an exemption on homework for your class this semester.”
I narrow my gaze. “I’m sorry?”
“She’s volunteering at the hospital, so I offered her a pass on homework for one of her classes. She chose yours.”
This is the strangest agreement I’ve ever heard of, but I want this conversation to be over.
“Sounds good. Anything else?”
He shakes his head and takes one step back, then turns back toward me again. “I saw you talking to Rosie Carmichael. What’s the deal with her?”
My stomach tightens. “I don’t understand the question.”
The dean clears his throat. “I overheard you two talking in the hallway. You mentioned that she was the only one you noticed.”
My mouth goes dry.
Wow! Did I really fuck all this up before it even began?
“Yes, I was explaining a theory to her.” I’m thinking the less I say, the better, but the dean has more questions.
“What was the theory?”
I stand taller. “The theory had to do with the perception of beauty.”
“And you told Rosie you noticed her?”
“I did.” I swallow hard and stare at the steely-eyed man with a bald patch that’s growing by the minute.
“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” He tucks his hand into his expensive gray slacks as he talks.
My jaw tightens. “I told Rosie that I noticed her intellect. She was comparing herself to another student in class.” I tilt my head to the side.
“I have to say, I don’t appreciate the assumption that I’m somehow being inappropriate with my students.
I’ve been teaching here for over two decades and I’ve never had an issue. ”
Half expecting him to buck back, I stand firm in my bullshit excuse.
“Pretty young girls like Rosie are hard to stay away from, though.” He nudges my elbow and offers the slimiest grin. “Aren’t they?”
Fuck me! Is this what I sound like? Is this what I look like? A creepy old fuck noticing young women?
“Kidding around.” The dean knocks me on the shoulder as he walks away, the stench of cigars on his breath. “Keep up the good work.”
This needs to end right here. I’ve already done enough damage. It’s a good thing Rosie’s not coming over tonight. She has a good head on her shoulders, ignoring my advances. Hell, she’s probably saved us both.
Now, I just need to get her out of my head.
I drag in a deep breath and blow it out slowly as I pace down the lecture hall steps toward my desk where the pile of research for my book sits in a stack of manila envelopes.
Tonight will be a good night for me to examine everything again, maybe find some conclusions and theories without involving students.
I’m halfway through packing everything up when my cell phone buzzes in my back pocket. It’s my little brother Silas, who I’m sure is up to no fucking good again.
“If you need me to bail you out of jail, it isn’t happening.”
“Jeez. Happy Friday to you too,” Silas groans.
Is it Friday? I check the calendar to the left of my desk.
Damn it! It is Friday. I won’t see Rosie for two days now. I’d hoped we would smooth this over sooner rather than later.
“Sorry,” I sigh, “it’s been a disaster of a day. What’s going on with you?”
“Big fancy brother, with his big fancy job, having a hard day?” he scoffs.
“I don’t believe it. Not when the rest of the family is out here with their asses on the line.
You know this distillery is going to shit, right?
Last night the assholes at that bar down the way had a redneck talent show in the street.
There was an interpretive dance with lawn chairs.
Worst part is, it’s working. The locals have officially rejected us. ”
I shake my head as I go back to stuffing my research away in my bag. “I told you guys it was a bad idea to open a whiskey bar three steps away from a local watering hole. Of course the locals are up in arms.”
“Right,” he sighs. “I figured I’d get a ‘told ya so’ from you, but what I really need is some help with Dad’s old recipe book. I’m bringing it up to you this weekend.”
“No. Why?” I clear my throat and zip up my bag. “I don’t have time for that right now. I have a deadline and I’m swamped. I’m a silent partner to this bar shit. The silent is supposed to be emphasized.”
Somehow, I know his eyes are rolling back, though I can’t see him. “Your deadline isn’t until October. You can take the weekend to decipher this recipe book with me.”
“No, I can’t,” I press. “Why don’t you ask Cash? He’s right there with you, and he knows more about whiskey than I do.”
Silas laughs. “Between the ranch, the kids, and the day-to-day operations at the distillery, Cash doesn’t have a ton of free time for side projects. Besides, you’re smart. Isn’t this what you do… decipher old text?”
“No! I’m a philosophy teacher, not an archeologist.”
“Well, you’re an archeologist this weekend.”
“What the hell makes you think Dad’s style of whiskey is going to save the distillery, anyway? Locals don’t remember him like you think they do. He was a kooky, old drunk who wrote nonsense in a book for other drunks.”
Silas sighs. “I’m not asking you to agree with our plan. I’m only asking you to help me decode some of this worn, old handwriting. That’s all.”
I chew the inside of my cheek and glance down at the papers on my desk.
I really need to get to this, but the truth is, if I don’t busy myself with something this weekend, I’m going to get stuck on the fantasies about Rosie again.
I’ll be thinking about her tight, little pussy.
I’ll be imagining her bent over in front of me, her heavy tits brushing against the mattress, the sound of her moans as I thrust into her hard and steady.
I know how weekends like that go. They’re a prison.
A prison of thoughts I can never do anything about.
“Okay,” I huff. “One day. Then I have to get back to this research.”
“Good.” My brother’s smile is evident through the phone. “I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up the line without giving me an exact time, though that’s the kind of guy he is.
Chaotic… but also persistent.
I have to give credit where credit is due. The man never quits.
It’s probably a good thing he pushed. Now, I’ll be able to stop thinking filthy, depraved, indecent thoughts about my student… right?