“Professor.” He corrects me.
A shudder of raw desire rolls through me. “I want you, Professor.”
His lips nearly brush mine when he says, “Good girl.”
An embarrassing whimper slips out of me in response to the low praise. I’ve been craving to hear him say it for days.
It seemed impossible before now. Completely wrong.
But I don’t care anymore. We passedinappropriatewhen he found me in the library.
“Stay,” he commands, lingering against my lips for a few pulsing heartbeats, imposing his will.
When he releases my face, I try to follow his touch on instinct.
His grip tightens in my hair.
“We’ll have to work on your obedience, brat.”
“My name is Lena,” I rebut.
“I can think of a lot of names I’d prefer to use right now, but we’ll stick withbratuntil you’re better behaved.”
I pout. “You’re being an asshole again.”
He tugs my head back, giving me a little flash of warning pain.
“And you love it.”
He shouldn’t be able to read me so easily, but all my defenses are in tatters. Ever since he found out about my stalker and vowed to be my protector, I haven’t been able to keep up my walls around him.
Or maybe it’s our chemistry that renders me powerless against his probing gaze.
“Then I guess it won’t be much of a punishment if I enjoy it so much,” I purr. “You’ll have to try harder, Professor.”
His grin is practically evil. “You wanted an orgasm while you were touching yourself in the library. I’ll make sure you get one. You’ll beg for mercy before I’m finished with you.”
“Oh no, how terrible to be given an orgasm. You’re so cruel.” I’m baiting the beast, but I’m drunk on our heady connection.
“You have no idea.”
He loosens his tie.
“Give me your wrists.”
I hesitate, clinging to my final scrap of resistance. I’m enjoying our power play.
His beautiful face firms to the stern mask that messes with my head and makes my insides melt.
My wrists are in front of me. His navy tie is silky soft, and his fingers are featherlight as he brushes my pulse points, reminding me just how much he makes my heart race.
He knots the tie in place, securing my wrists together in front of me. He tugs on the length, using it as a leash to guide me inexorably to his desk.
Books and papers go flying with one powerful sweep of his arm, making me jump.
Undeterred, he grasps my hips and manhandles me until I’m bent over the desk.
I squirm. “Hey!”