Students are chatting and laughing as they emerge from the room making their way down the already packed hallway. I’m so irritated I don’t even wave to the people I know, more concerned about getting my grades in order.
Once the last person shuffles up the long aisle and out the door, I stroll into the classroom and down the center aisle where I find Sam sitting behind her desk. Like last time, she has her head down and focused on whatever she’s writing in a notebook.
“Can I help you?” Her voice is soft but the anger is still present.
I bend down to meet her height. “I need to make up the quiz I missed.”
She glances up from her book, her lips slightly parted, her hair somewhat messy and falling in front of her eyes. “You’ll have to take it during my office hours. Make an appointment.” Sam shoves her hair behind her ears and shuts her book, clutching the leather in her hand.
“And how do I do that?”
“On Strick Net, of course. That’s where you can find my availability.”
I lean forward, our lips close to touching before she slides her chair back. “I’m ready now.”
Her eyes shift to the back of the room, lingering there for a few seconds before she turns and looks at me again. “Who said I have time… for you?”
She makes me so angry and so turned on all at the same time. It’s a weird feeling, one I’m starting to like. “Make time,” I whisper. “I can be very convincing.”
Shocked, she gasps. Her hand reflexively clamps over her mouth as she stares at me. But I don’t miss the fact she’s slapped her legs together. She wants me as much as I want her.
“You want a repeat.” I stare her down, honing in on her every movement she makes. “Is that it?”
Sam swivels her chair, and before she can get up, I slap a palm down on her knee to keep her in place. From my sudden gesture, the pen she’s holding falls to the floor and lands between her legs—right where I want to be.
Bending down on one knee, I clasp the pen and hand it to her with a mischievous grin. She takes it from me as my eyes travel up her bare legs. I slide my hand along her soft skin taking my time as I feel my way up the inseam of her thigh.
She sucks in a deep breath, and when she lets it out, a quiet moan escapes her lips. “Stop it, Tucker,” she whispers, but her body and how it responds to me say otherwise.
I stand, and she shoves her skirt down her thighs. “Like I said earlier…” she clears her throat, “… make an appointment with me. My calendar is online.”
I wink. “See you then.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sam
Is Tucker right about me? I think so. Having his attention again after all these years has sparked something inside me. Desire, maybe? But isn’t that a natural reaction to have to a man like Tucker? Any woman with a pulse would feel even the slightest amount of attraction to him. Right?
I’m so messed up. Daddy issues, my therapist would tell me. Dr. Carson said I seek male approval because I never got it from my father.
Tucker’s wrong for me.
On every level.
Now I’m his TA. I shouldn’t even be thinking about him this way.
He’s just another student, I lie to myself.
Yeah, right. Not to me. He’s the cocky asshole who took my virginity. You never forget your first. And Tucker sure as hell was memorable.
Flipping through the papers on Professor Frazier’s desk, I skim the quizzes I’ve already graded. Tucker is my last appointment of the afternoon, the last paper I need to mark. Leaning back in the leather chair, I let out a breath of air and stare up at the ceiling for a second attempting to relax. My nerves are shot, my fingers trembling, anxiety bubbling up in my chest.
Between the stress of juggling multiple jobs, school, and my dad, I can’t handle another headache.
Tucker will push my limits. I know he will. The carnal look in his eyes on Monday told me so. He wants me. I still want him. In all honesty, I probably never stopped.
I was in shock for hours after he touched my thigh in Professor Frazier’s classroom. He was so forward, making his intentions known. Or at the very least trying to con me into bending to his will.
I’m the straitlaced girl who studies hard, gets good grades, and is the teacher’s pet. I earned the teaching assistant position, and I know Tucker will try to jeopardize my role. He has to get his way no matter the cost. Guys like him don’t understand the meaning of no.
I have zero self-control around Tucker. The moment his hand caressed my skin and his fingers slid up my thigh, I couldn’t breathe let alone formulate a single thought.
Keep it together. You can do this, Sam.
Distracted by my thoughts, I look over when someone knocks on the open door. Tucker’s standing in the entryway with a wicked smirk on his lips. He’s wearing a navy tracksuit, the pants hanging low on his hips, paired with a fitted Strick U hockey tee. I stare far too long which earns a chuckle from Tucker.
He must be laughing at me. My mouth is hanging open, my gaze focused on all the wrong parts of him. Or, maybe right depending on how you look at it.
Oh my God, what is wrong with me? Have I gone without sex for so long I’m turning into a horny teenager around him? This has to stop. Like right now.
Tucker taps the wood hard and then strolls through the door, broad-shouldered and oozing sex appeal. He closes the door and locks it behind him.
And I still can’t breathe.
What is he doing?
Say something, Sam.
With a crooked grin on his handsome face, he takes a seat in front of me, leaning back in his chair. “Samantha…” he says in his deep, manly voice that sends a shiver down my arms, “… are you ready for me?
Am I ready? No. I gasp at his comment.
Someone sedate me.
I can’t stand to be in the same room as Tucker. One look from him, and I’m crossing my legs, too aware of how wet he’s making my panties.
Clearing my throat, I sit up straight and retrieve a blank quiz from the inner flap in the organizer on my desk. I shove it across the desk in front of Tucker with my finger. “You have one hour.”
He glances at the paper then looks up at me while licking his lips. Why does he keep doing that? I want to tell him to stop. Our relationship has to remain professional. I don’t even like him. He’s a horrible asshole who fucked me and then walked away like it meant nothing to him.
Because it really did mean nothing to him.
I was just sex.
He was just the man I chose to rip off the Band-Aid of my virginity. I knew what I was getting with him even though I was hoping for more. Maybe I hate him for all the wrong reasons. But I don’t think he deserves a second chance or my mercy when it comes to this class. Whatever grade he ends up with will be earned and not bargained for.
“You’ll have to stop distracting me,” Tucker says, sliding his chair closer to the desk. “I can’t focus when you do that.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Do what?”
“Twirl your hair around your index finger.”
I stop twisting the strand of hair and lower my hand to my lap. Until he mentioned it, I wasn’t even aware I was doing it. Call it a nervous tick, I guess.
“Stop looking at me and pay attention to your quiz,” I shoot back, a defiant smirk turning up the corner of my mouth. “Now you have fifty-seven minutes. The clock is ticking, Tucker.”
He smiles so wide it illuminates his face, reaching up to his light blue irises. Tucker has the kind of eyes you can get lost in, the perfect shade of blue that reminds me of a cloudless sky. The dimple in his right cheek creases his tanned skin. I like it when he smiles instead of smirks. There’s a boyish quality about him even though he’s all man and muscle.
That is until he speaks…
“Don’t make me bend you over this desk and spank you.” He leans forward, his elbow on the edge of the desk, his lecherous gaze luring me in. “Unless that’s what you want.” He
lowers his voice, though this time it’s more sensual. “I remember how you like it.”
I cough, practically choking from his remark.
Does he have to make everything about sex?
Shit, I’m screwed if he keeps this up.
I need to get out of here, but I can’t leave. He hasn’t even written his name on the quiz paper yet.
“Tucker,” I warn, my voice trembling.
“Samantha,” he whispers, pressing his palms on the wood to lean over the desk, invading my space.
I stop breathing the closer he gets, unable to think straight. He knows how uncomfortable he’s making me, but he keeps going until he reaches for a lead pencil in the mug next to my computer.
Relief washes over me.
Still tight, my chest slowly begins to deflate, my breathing returning to normal.
He grips it between his fingers, his cocky smirk returning, and then sits back in his chair. “I need something to write with,” he says. “Unless you want me to work off my grade in other ways.
Holy mother of dragons.
“Fifty minutes,” I choke out, the words a whisper on my lips.
He nods as if saying he gets the hint, his eyes leaving mine to read the paper. I watch every move he makes, studying him as I would any other subject.
The editor at the Strickland Gazette has taught me to observe and report. How to spot little cues and tells that help good reporters become great.
My dream is to one day work for The New York Times or Washington Post. That’s why I double majored in law and journalism. A well-rounded education should help when I apply for positions after graduation. At least that’s my hope.
After I snap out of it, I return to entering grades into the computer. Professor Frazier will have a stroke if this isn’t finished by the end of my office hours. He’s very hands-off when it comes to his classes. I’m expected to do everything for him, apart from teaching the class, though I will have my turn at some point. Busy with his law practice downtown, Professor Frazier only checks in with me once a week. And with the clock ticking down, he will be here any minute.
“Time’s almost up,” I say, breaking the silence in the room.
Tucker peeks up at me, pencil clasped between his fingers and smiles. Then, he shoves his quiz across the desk to me, winking. “Go easy on me.”
“You’ll get whatever grade you deserve,” I assure him because I’m not doing him a single favor.
Good looks and cocky smirks aren’t enough for me to make an exception. Tucker has to earn his grades. He won’t get any handouts from me. I sure as hell never got any from anyone. Every single thing I have I worked for. Rich kids like Tucker need to learn that hard work pays off in the long run.
“I can’t fail this class…” he says, “… or I’ll be off the team.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Not my problem. Your grades are a reflection of your effort. If you put nothing into this class, you’ll get nothing out of it. That’s how life works.”
“I don’t remember you being such a hardass,” he says.
“You didn’t remember me at all,” I challenge, now angry with him.
He sits back in his chair and kicks his foot up on his knee, smirking. “Oh, so that’s it… you’re punishing me for doing exactly what I promised.” Tucker shakes his head while looking annoyed which makes two of us. “I told you back then it was nothing more than a hookup. You were okay with it. And now you’re going to take it out on me?”
“Losing my virginity in a frat house was pretty memorable but for all the wrong reasons.”
Horror scrolls across his face. We sit in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Tucker speaks again, “I had no idea. You didn’t act like a… there wasn’t any… you should have told me.”
He disposed of the condom so fast he probably didn’t notice the blood on it before he sent me on my way. Would he have cared back then? I doubt it. Not after he’d gotten what he wanted. But I can’t pass all the blame to Tucker. I wanted him to be my first for whatever idiotic reason there was at the time. If I had valued myself more back then, we never would’ve had sex. Now, I know better. I know my self-worth.
“I had experience doing other things just never had sex with anyone… until you.” I rise from the chair and straighten my skirt, running my hands down the front of it. “It’s in the past, okay? But don’t expect me to do you any favors just because we were together years ago. It meant nothing to you. It means nothing to me,” I lie. “So, let’s move on and forget it ever happened.”
“That’s the problem…” he says jumping to his feet, “… I can’t forget you.”
I laugh. “You already did. It should be easy to go back to how things used to be before you found me on Strick Net.”
He’s about to speak when Professor Frazier pushes open the door and stumbles into the room. “How come this door is locked?” He shoots daggers in my direction, and my blood runs cold.
Damn it, Tucker. He locked it. And now Professor Frazier is going to chew my ear out over it. We’re not supposed to be behind closed doors with students. Not with how many inappropriate incidents are reported on campus on any given day.
“Umm—” I have no idea how to respond.
“Sorry, Prof,” Tucker interrupts. “That was me.”
Professor Frazier nods, crossing the room to meet us. Then, his gaze shifts to me. “Don’t let it happen again.”
I cringe at the coldness in his tone.
“Thanks for letting me make up the quiz,” Tucker says to me. “See you in class,” he says to Professor Frazier.
He exits the room faster than he appeared, leaving me alone with Professor Creepy. Ever since my interview, he’s given me weird vibes. But this position pays better than my other jobs.
“Samantha…” Professor Frazier says, taking a seat behind his desk. “Do we need to discuss the rules?”
“No, sir,” I mutter. “I didn’t know he locked the door. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. The hallway was noisy when he walked in. I didn’t think anything of having the door shut so he could have some quiet to take the quiz.”
“Don’t let it happen again.” He sets his briefcase on the desk and clicks the lock, pushing the top open. “I have some work to do. If the grades are entered into Strick Net, then you can go home for the day.”
I smile. “Yes, all of the grades are updated. Except for Tucker’s. He only just finished.”
He points at the chair Tucker recently vacated. “Have a seat, then.”
I do as he instructs reaching for the red pen on his desk, but before I can lift it, he covers his hand over mine. A ripple of shock and fear floods my veins.
What is he doing? I stare at him, eyes wide and confused.
“Don’t mistake my absence for ignorance, Miss Marchand. I’m always aware of what’s going on at this school. Do you understand?”
What the hell is his problem? I have no idea what he’s talking about.
A pang of anxiety crushes my chest, stabbing me. My life is hard enough. I don’t need another complication.
“Yes, sir,” I say, and he releases his hold on my hand allowing me to sit and grade Tucker’s paper.
Now, I see why Tucker asked me to take it easy on him. I circle the bright red D at the top of his paper and add it to the stack of quizzes inside the pocket of my organizer.
He’s going to need my help to pass this class.
Too bad he won’t get it.
Chapter Sixteen
Tucker
Grinding my teeth, I stare at the computer screen furious with Sam. “She gave me a D,” I tell Trent, who’s sitting on his bed.
“Did you study?” Trent’s tone is accusatory, mocking even, because he damn well knows I didn’t have time to study.
Between practices and games, I haven’t had a second to think about school. All I can envision at this point is the finish line. The ultimate prize—winning another championship. We’re on track for regionals, and I
have no doubt we’ll win the Frozen Four again this year.
“Yeah, I studied.” The lie slips off my tongue too easy. “She has it out for me.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me, glancing up from his phone. “Who?”
“The teaching assistant. We fucked a couple of years ago at a party, and now she hates me.”
Trent laughs and continues typing a message to Jemma. That’s all he does anymore is sit on his phone and talk to his girl. “You must not have fucked her good enough.”
“She was a virgin,” I confess. “I didn’t know.”
He makes a face as if he’s thinking over what I just said. “You need to fix it. Smooth things over with her.”
I snort. “Nothing will work on this girl. She hates me.”
But she did let me get close enough to touch her leg on the first day of class. She can’t hate me that much. Not when she didn’t even try to push me away.
“Maybe it’s your approach,” he counters. “Hey, baby, wanna see my stick-handling skills isn’t going to win her over.”
I laugh. “Fuck you! I don’t say that to girls.”
He rolls his eyes. “Pretty damn close.”
“Time to switch up the game,” I mutter, considering his comment. “How do I do that?”
“Find out what she likes. Start there.”
“She works at Broad Street Beans, so I guess she likes coffee.”
“Just because she works there doesn’t mean she likes coffee, you idiot.” He shakes his head and sets his phone down on the bed. “Didn’t you say her screen name on Strick Net is Heir of Slytherin?”
I nod, not following his train of thought. “So? What’s that got to do with anything?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “As in Harry Potter.”
“Still not following, bro.”
He sighs. “How have you never seen a Harry Potter movie? She’s obviously a fan, or she wouldn’t have chosen that as her screen name.”
Teaching Tucker (Face-Off Legacy Book 3) Page 8
