“You were disrupting the class,” I answer, voice flat. “I’d have done the same to anyone.”
“Anyone?” She folds her arms. “Or just the broken girl you fucked when you thought I didn’t matter?”
My jaw ticks. Because she’s wrong, she does matter. Too much.
“What we did that night has nothing to do with this,” I lie. “You can’t leave your phone on if it’s going to explode like that. Go into the hall next time.”
“Oh, sorry,” she bites back. “Next time my stalker ex calls a hundred times while I’m trying to learn about serotonin syndrome, I’ll get my bearings and run from thelecture hall.”
My pulse kicks, my assumptions were right. “Who is your ex? Give me a name, right now.”
She scoffs a laugh. “Does it matter who he is?”
“Yes.” It matters because I’m ready to kill the guy.
What the hell is happening to me? I said I would only hurt dealers and hurt them worse if I saw them abusing women. Now I want to kill someone because he blew up my student’s phone during my class.
No, not just my student, the woman who has gotten under my skin and has made it transparent and easy to bleed.
Scarlett exhales sharply through her nose and finally confesses, “It’s Pierce Langston. I assume you know the name and the weight of it. So, no. I don’t need you to handle him for me.”
“I wasn’t going to offer,” I lie again to make myself look sane.
But I know plenty well what a conflict with the Langstons would mean for my career rebirth. And oh, shit… My sister’s new contract with them for her event planning business.
“Anything else, professor?” Scarlett asks with one hip jutted out.
Your lips around my cock and your tears from being choked on it as lube would be a good start.
Jesus.
“You’re dismissed.” I check my phone to give my hands something to do besides push her down to her knees. “I have an…an appointment.”
With my fucking hand in the shower.
She takes a single step closer, chin tipping up. Challenging me, setting off a bomb in my chest. “Where are you going? A date?”
A humorless sound escapes me. “Do you think I’dwear this stuffy professor jacket on a date?”
“Students like Vienna like the way you look just fine. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“I don’t care whatViennathinks of the way I dress.” I realize I’m talking to Scarlett like we’re…friends now. Not professor to student.
“What would you wear then?” Her voice softens into something wicked. “If you were taking a woman out.”
My throat goes dry. “A suit,” I tell her, both to tease and to test her. “The best one I own.”
“And what should she wear?” Scarlett pushes the game, voice low, silky, and dangerous.
I should walk away. I should shut this down. But the pull is clawing at me, the feeling of adrenalin she gives me is like a new drug in my veins. And I just can’t fucking stop.
“Something I could peel off her,” I murmur. “Slowly. With bra and panties I’d ruin with my teeth.”
Her breath catches, and I hate how I love it.
She whispers, “Good to know.”
I take a step back because if she stays in this office one minute longer, I will fuck her on this desk.