2. Chapter Two
My chair tilts as I gaze from my office window to gaze out over the university campus where students walk between classes, chat in groups, or sun themselves on the grass. It’s a fine day, but it doesn’t match the storm inside me. A storm I don’t want. Or need.
Yet it still exists.
My gaze is trained on the view, but my every awareness is of the closed door behind me. More accurately, on the woman who will soon open it and step into my office. The space is far too constricted to allow for her presence.
And that is the problem.
I shouldn’t care that four walls are too close together. It shouldn’t enter my mind that a student has the power to change the air. Or that she’ll turn my sanctuary into a space I’ll want to lock us both within. A sanctuary no longer. A prison perhaps?
She’s a student. That is all. I see hundreds of young people in my office.
None affect me like her.
She’s different than all the other young women who have passed through my classes. Bright. Intelligent and so bloody beautiful it almost hurts. I shouldn’t notice how her brown eyes are flecked with gold, her long hair is the color of coffee or the way her lips look like they’d be soft against my own.
But I do.
I notice. Every little thing about her.
The way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not watching. A mixture of longing, sadness and something I can’t quite put my finger on before she catches herself and a blank expression takes over.
I’ve been around long enough to know when a smile is forced and a laugh is fake, and there’s something about her that isn’t quite right. I want to know what it is, but I can’t ask. I can’t get involved. I won’t.
One mistake per lifetime is enough. Steph—Miss Smith—is a student.
Period.
I’ll keep my distance. Keep my thoughts to myself. As well as my hands. Even when my soul pulls toward her whenever she’s close.
I pull up her file on my computer. Her grades are exceptional, better than any of the students in her class. She displays a natural affinity for understanding complex business theories beyond that of other students. The type of understanding usually only gained through a lifetime of experience. The type that doesn’t make sense given she doesn’t mix with other students, nor is she old enough to have practical exposure to those theories.
She’s not part of a sorority and, as far as I can tell, she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She’s not like other students. She’s not like any other student at all. And that’s the problem.
She’s an enigma and I want to figure her out.
I close her file and set my computer to sleep. I’m not proud of the way I’m feeling. I should be able to control my feelings, but the more I’m around her, the more I understand my control is a thin veneer. I can’t let her affect me.
A tentative knock sounds and my heart stutters. Knock it off. You have enough problems to contend with. No need to suck an innocent into your world.
I clear my throat. “Enter.”
The door to my office opens and she walks in. Her perfume teases my nose, and I close my eyes, willing my body not to respond. I stand behind my desk, making sure that the wood is a barrier between us.
She clasps her laptop to her chest and offers a tentative smile. “Professor Black.”
I hold out my hand and she shakes it. God, her touch is like a bolt straight to my balls. I sit before she notices the tightness in my crotch and indicate the visitor’s chair. “Miss Smith. Please, take a seat.”
She slides into the chair. My gaze doesn’t move off her. Not even when I try to pull it away. Her eyes drift over the items I have on display. They stop at a picture of me hanging out with friends at a sailing convention when I was younger, and a flash of what looks like longing crosses her face before it’s hidden behind her enigmatic eyes. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”
“No need to thank me for doing my job,” I say.
Her expression falters at my tone. I’m being an ass, but I need to let my words build a wall between us. I need to distance myself if I have any hope of making her look at me.
She places the laptop on my desk and tucks a long strand of hair behind her ear, giving me a clear view of her smooth cheek. She always covers her face with her hair, as though she has a disfigurement she’s trying to hide, but all I see is perfection.
“How can I help you?” I prompt. My dick is swelling simply because of her presence, and I need to do anything to conclude this meeting as soon as possible.
Her gaze flicks to mine and the color in her cheeks darkens. Stunning. “The business analytics assignment. I wanted to ask you about it.”
The subject of business analytics should kill the arousal flooding my system, but it doesn’t because she’s a perfect combination of beauty and brains. Fucking hot.
And off limits.
Not only because she’s a student and I’m her goddamned professor, as though that wasn’t enough, but she’s also exactly sixteen years my junior. Of all the reasons to stop obsessing over her, that is the biggest.
“Of course.” I lean back in my chair, trying to put some distance between us. Mentally, emotionally, physically. It doesn’t work, because she fills every inch of space, every corner of my mind. “What do you need help with?”
She shifts in her seat, folding her hands in her lap. “I wanted to ask you more about section two. Applied econometrics. How far would you like me to delve into key economic issues?”
My gaze roams her face. There’s a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “You and your work partners could study the impacts of monetary policy and labor markets. Or you could debate the merits and drawbacks of various forms of economic intervention.”
She sucks her delectable, plump bottom lip between her teeth, seeming unsure. I need to adjust the way I sit and hope to hell she doesn’t notice my dick swelling against my zipper.
What is it about this woman that makes me react so easily? So viscerally?
I force my brain back into gear and answer her question. “I would like you to critique one area to show me that you understand that topic. Show me a case study, an historical event of a current economic view. The idea is to demonstrate your understanding to me. Not run a billion dollar business.”
Her gaze catches on my desk before she nods in a decisive way. “I can do all of that.”
Something doesn’t sit right. It sounds as though she’s taken my words literally but I don’t understand why. “If your work partners on this assignment aren’t dividing the work up equally, you can tell me, Miss Smith.”
“Oh. I don’t have work partners. I decided to do this assignment on my own,” she says.
I want students to learn. Not buckle under a heavy work load and that’s what she’ll be doing if she tackles the assignment on her own. “This assignment is too big to do without study partners.”
Her eyes flare, brilliant and warm and I’m sucked into their depths. “It’s all right. I don’t have anything else to do.”
She should find it hard to fit this assignment into an already hectic study schedule. A niggling question starts up in the back of my mind. I flick through her record on my computer. There’re never other names on her assignments. Not even when I’ve stipulated team work. “You’ve done that before? You always opt for solo assignments, even when it means a heavier workload.”
She shrugs, a tiny gesture that speaks volumes. “I prefer not to rely on others.”
I frown, unable to hide my concern. “You can’t do everything on your own.” I try to bite back the urge to ask why she isolates herself, why she doesn’t have any friends. I don’t like seeing her on her own. She doesn’t realize how vibrant she is. How colorful. In a sea of copy cats, she’s a true star. She tries to hide it, but I see her for who she is.
Then boulders form in my gut when I wonder if this is deeper than merely wanting to hide her true self. I don’t want to confirm my worst fears, but I need to know. Not just for the sake and reputation of the university. But for myself. I force the words out of my mouth. “Why do you keep to yourself? Is something wrong? Has anyone been…inappropriate with you?”
Apart from me.
Jealousy I have no right to feel blasts through me. I’ll track the fucker down if that’s the case.
Her eyes flicker, her guard slipping for a fraction of a second. “Nothing’s wrong. I just prefer my own company.”
Something about that flicker has everything inside me on high alert. I lean forward, doing my best to keep my tone professional despite the raging storm inside me. “Who is he?”
“N…no one. I mean, there isn’t anyone.” She hurries to stand, and picks up her laptop and her bag. Her hands shake when she tries and fails to place the strap on her shoulder. “I…have to go. Thank you for the clarification on the assignment.”
I know a trauma reaction when I see it. I’m out of my seat, standing between her and the door to stop her running out of my office. Her fingers clamp around the strap. Her mouth parts and her pupils dilate. “What are you doing, Professor?”
An internal shiver works through me at the husk in her voice that confirms she’s as affected as I am. I’m crowding her. I should step away. I’ve asked her if there’s a problem and she’s told me there isn’t. There shouldn’t be anything more I need to say, and yet I can’t stand back. Not when I know she’s lying.
“Making sure you’re telling me the truth. Because I won’t let you leave this room until I know for sure no one has taken advantage of you.” No one but me.
I’m scaring her, but I can’t stop when I step toward her. The backs of her thighs hit the edge of my desk and I use my height to cage her in. She gasps, her pillowed lips falling open. “Th…There’s no one.”
Her gaze flicks to my lips and back to my eyes. All it takes is a fraction of a second to confirm my gut instinct. She’s lying.
My chest almost brushes hers. So close her body heat washes over me. I’m crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed. This is wrong on so many levels but I don’t pull back. An invisible cord tightens in my chest. “Tell me. The college will help you…”
“I said it’s nothing.” She draws a sharp breath. A stray tear falls and leaves a silvery trail down her cheek.
I can’t stand to see her in pain. Can’t stand knowing that there’s someone out there not treating her the way she should be treated. Like a princess.
A goddess.
I catch her tear with my thumb. Place my palm on her cheek, so smooth and warm. Her breath shakes, but she doesn’t pull away. Not even when I lean close enough so that my lips nearly touch hers. “Tell me.”
“I…” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth and I’m lost. The pulse jumps in her neck. I know I should take my hand off her, but I can’t.
“Tell me. Please.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth. Stays.
How has everything changed in a few moments?
Wrong. So wrong. I can’t stop myself. Don’t want to. I dip my head and brush my lips across her cheek, the salt of her tear and her own natural taste invading my mouth.
Delicious. She’s delicious. I’ve gone too far but she inhales another sharp breath and doesn’t move away. I close my eyes, my forehead resting against her temple. I can’t move either.
“Steph.” Her name. A prayer to make me stop before I move farther over the line that shouldn’t be crossed. There’s no coming back if I do.
She remains still. Her breathing is so light, her chest barely moves.
“Tell me to stop. Please.” I battle to find the words because I don’t know what’s come over me. I don’t know what I want from her, except I know I want something.
Her.
I want her.
But I can’t have her. I never will.
It’s inappropriate at the least. Taking advantage at the worst.
The best I can hope for is her forgiveness. The worst is her justifiable anger.
I don’t expect the brush of her lips in the hollow of my throat. I don’t expect the kiss she places there. I don’t expect the rush of desire that shakes my whole body, and I don’t expect the urge to take her into my arms and kiss her until she can’t think at all.
All I know is that the moment she steps away from me will be the worst moment of my life, so I close my arms around her and pretend that nothing about what I want to do to her will ruin either one of us. Or destroy our lives.