by Alex Wolf
Professor’s Pet
Alex Wolf
I’m a professor.
I take pride in preparing young minds for their future.
If they’re unprepared when they journey into the world, it’s on me.
I’ve dealt with students and crushes before.
The professor fantasy happens.
I’ve never given in to the temptation. My work is too important to jeopardize.
At least it was…
Then, Kristen Monroe walks into my class.
She wears skimpy skirts that hug her soft curves and bats her eyelashes, feigning innocence.
She knows exactly what she’s doing.
I should take her over my knee. Punish her for being a tease. Deny her everything she’s after.
I think I just might…
Professor’s Pet Copyright © 2018 Alex Wolf
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be resold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Publisher © Alex Wolf April 4th, 2018
Cover Design: Lori Jackson
Editor: Candice Royer
Formatting: Alex Wolf
Contents
Introduction
Free Book Offer
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
About the Author
Join My ARC Team
Shagged Sneak Peek
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Free Book Offer
Free Book Offer
TAP HERE to download my FREE story!
Chapter One
Fuck!”
Kristen flew out of bed.
What the hell happened?
Her brain was a dense fog for a moment before she realized instead of hitting the snooze button she’d turned the alarm off. She hopped on one foot and pulled her jeans on, then yanked a shirt over her head. She’d planned on getting up early and spending an hour in front of the mirror, fixing her hair and makeup for class. Staying out until one in the morning drinking hadn’t been the wisest decision the night before.
A few of the girls she’d met during orientation convinced her it was a good idea. She didn’t want to be known as the square, studious girl who lived her life in the library. She had to make a good first impression and turning potential friends down on the first day wouldn’t be the best way to start off.
One drink soon turned into ten. They’d promised Kristen they’d only be out for an hour or so, and before long it had morphed into an all-nighter. By the time she’d crawled into bed, she was seeing double and the ceiling danced around her head.
“Fuck me.”
She scolded herself in the mirror, grabbed her hair, and yanked it into a loose bun. Her hands were a blur as she lined her eyes and dabbed on some shadow, hoping it would disguise the hangover. When she bent over to tie her shoes, nausea slammed into her stomach, and her heart beat on her temples. It was going to be a rough first day.
Normally, she’d have chosen to pair her jeans with boots or sandals, but given her predicament, she didn’t have much time to think, let alone select a good outfit. She also wasn’t certain she had everything in her backpack, but it’d have to do. She sprinted out the door of her dorm room and into the hall.
Of course, if she’d been on time, there would’ve been far more students in the halls, but since she was already half an hour late, the building looked like a ghost town.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” She mumbled her words as she dashed down the stairs and ran across the lawn. Each step was like someone pounding her skull with a sledgehammer. Crowds of other students hung in small packs, and some of them stopped and stared as she flashed past them. Others ignored her completely.
Kristen wasn’t in the mood to talk anyway, nor did she really give a shit what they thought about her. She’d made a mistake the night before. She quickly realized she didn’t want to be popular. She came to get her degree, and that was what she was going to do.
I’m never drinking again.
She stopped a guy who looked like a senior. Surely, he’d know where her class was.
“Journalism 101?” She bent over at the waist, panting while she waited for a reply. She knew the general direction of where she was supposed to go, but she didn’t want to waste any extra time. The guy looked her over from head to toe with a smirk. He clearly enjoyed the fact she was lost and wanted help. What was it about men that made them love a helpless female? His eyes roamed her chest before shifting back to her face.
Kristen crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. She let out an obvious sigh, making it a point to look unimpressed.
“First day?” He grinned. Apparently, he liked what he saw.
She tilted her head to the side. “Obviously.”
He laughed. “Go around the corner. First door on the left.” He pointed in the general direction.
She took off.
“Better hurry. Not cool to be late, freshman. Even if you’re hot.”
As she rounded the corner, she couldn’t help but think how annoying college guys would be. She had no intention of hooking up with any of the boys on campus, and that’s what they were—boys. Nothing would jeopardize her future. The last thing she needed was to get involved with some jock who might knock her up and vanish.
She intended to have fun, but she wasn’t about to fuck the first guy she saw in the hall to accomplish the goal. The dude was cute, but she shuddered a little at the fact he stared at her tits before answering her question.
Asshole.
She reached the door to her class and paused for a deep breath.
This is it.
She shoved the door open and walked into the room. Aspirations of being a journalist meant this would be one of her most important classes. That’s why she scheduled it first thing in the morning. Normally, she was a morning person and got most of her work done before lunch.
If things had gone according to plan, she’d have been there an hour early, not hauling ass at the last second.
Get your shit together, Kristen.
She kept her head down and hurried to a seat in the back. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the professor wouldn’t even notice her. She was there now, and if he did catch her, she’d just apologize and tell him it wouldn’t happen again.
There was only one problem.
The door made a god-awful squeak that echoed off the walls, and it closed with a loud clank before suctioning shut. All of this before she’d even found her seat.
Shit.
Everyone in the damn class turned and stared. She didn’t care what her classmates thought. It was none of their damn business. At least she made it to class at all, whic
h she was sure would be a chore for some students.
Fortunately, the professor had his back to her. She breathed a sigh of relief, until he stopped writing on the board. Kristen kept her eyes on the floor as she slinked through the back of the room. She took a seat in the last row and avoided all the stares as if nothing had happened.
The chair was like nails on a chalkboard against the tiled floor when she pulled it out. She winced.
Son of a bitch.
Everyone stopped what they were doing, even the professor, as if time had suddenly stood still and she was the only one moving. It wasn’t until the room was completely silent again that the professor resumed teaching.
His voice boomed when he spoke. “As I was saying, the most important thing you can know as a journalist—” He turned around and glared at Kristen, but her head was angled down toward the desk.
She could see him in her peripheral vision and practically feel the heat of his gaze on the top of her head.
“Is that you have to be on time.” He turned back and scribbled on a dry-erase board while he continued. “If there’s a story, the sooner you get it into the public’s hands, the better. Good journalists don’t just get a story, they get it first.”
Her cheeks burned and heat rushed into her face.
Maybe he’d been talking about being on time before she’d walked through the door, she thought. She could hope anyway.
“What does that have to do with those of us who aren’t going to be journalists?” another student asked.
“Punctuality will serve you well in life, regardless of your field of practice. You will learn plenty of principles in this class that will prepare you for the world. Keep an open mind, and you may be surprised where you end up.”
Kristen kept her eyes trained on the syllabus someone had passed her. She was uncertain how much of the lecture had to do with her or if she was being paranoid.
Even though she’d shown up to the class late, she still felt it dragged on for the rest of the period. Maybe it was the fact she wanted to speak with the professor about being late—set things straight—or maybe she didn’t find Intro to Journalism as interesting as she’d thought it’d be.
Either way, seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into an hour. She just wanted out of the class and back to her dorm room. She silently prayed that interaction would be minimal the first day, and she could start over new tomorrow.
Finally, class came to an end, and the professor dismissed them. Kristen had stared down the entire time and pretended to take notes, afraid to look up again, worried her professor would notice her bloodshot eyes. Now that it’d ended, Kristen decided she’d face her fear. Walk up and apologize for being late and assure him it wouldn’t happen again. It was the adult thing to do, and she was in college now.
After a few stragglers made their way to the door, she headed up to his desk.
“Excuse me, professor.”
Her heart thumped in her chest, and she could still feel it beating in her head. Kristen had always dealt with anxiety to some extent, and now that she stood in front of her professor, she worried he might take off points for being late.
“I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to be late. My alarm didn’t go off. I got here as soon as I could.” Her chest constricted, and she thought she might be having a heart attack.
“I’m not interested in excuses.”
She looked away. She hadn’t meant to make excuses. In fact, in her mind it wasn’t an excuse, just a reason. How did he not understand that? It was the first day. She’d never been there before. She could’ve been lost. Maybe she misjudged the distance to the building. It wasn’t true, but he didn’t know that.
“Well, I just wanted you to know it won’t happen again.” She forced a smile.
He still hadn’t looked at her, and she worried he wasn’t listening.
“This class is absolutely a priority for me. You don’t have to worry about this again.”
God, you already said that. Just go. You sound like an idiot.
“It’s not me who has to worry. And if it’s a priority, where were you this morning?” He finally looked up from his desk.
She started to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Her breath hitched. She noticed his eyes first—icy blues that seared into her. Her mind went blank, and words refused to form in her brain.
He was by far the most attractive man she’d ever seen.
He let out an exasperated sigh. “You won’t be penalized this time. Don’t let it happen again.”
Chapter Two
Kristen clutched her books to her chest as she walked back to her room. She noticed other students staring, and a few even greeted her as she passed. Nothing registered, though. She couldn’t get her professor out of her mind.
Professor Grant Wiseman was the hottest man she’d ever met in her life. It made the whole situation worse.
She knew he was smart, and it was probably easy for him to deduce that she was hungover. If her eyes didn’t give it away, she probably still reeked of booze.
She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Maybe then she’d be able to get the professor out of her head. Grant was tall, even when sitting down. He looked in his late thirties. His hair was jet black with dashes of silver mixed in—salt and pepper. He kept the sides trimmed low, and the longer hair on top slicked back. And, Jesus—the glasses. He wore dark-framed spectacles that were the sexiest pair she’d ever seen, coupled with the icy-blue irises that sat behind them.
He clearly worked out, the way he filled his dress shirt, and despite being quite a bit older than her, he was still lean and fit. There had to be some story behind him teaching journalism at California State University, and she wanted to know what it was. During their interaction, she’d forced her mind to think of anything other than his body, and by the time they’d finished their little talk, she could barely recall any of the conversation.
All she’d taken away was she’d gotten off with a warning. She wouldn’t mind getting off with more than that in the presence of the hot professor. She’d rushed from the room shortly after. The last thing she wanted was to make the situation any worse than it already was, and she knew she was on thin ice. Professor Wiseman didn’t seem like the kind of man who allowed his students to be late, ever.
There would definitely be no shortcuts in his class.
“How’d it go?” Stefani, her roommate, turned to Kristen as she walked through the door of their room.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Kristen knew it wasn’t Stef’s job to get her out of bed, but she also knew she was probably up around the same time.
“I didn’t know you had class. You were out late. I figured you had afternoon classes today.” Stefani shrugged. “Sorry.”
Kristen sighed and threw her books on the bed, then sat down in a chair, rubbing her temples. “I was thirty minutes late, and the class is only an hour and a half.”
“Sorry. If I’d known, I would’ve given you a good shake.” Stef typed something out on her laptop as she spoke, then turned to look at Kristen. “How you feeling?”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault I’m an idiot.” Kristen sighed. “I feel like shit. Hungover. And get this. I had the hottest professor of all time.”
Stefani spun around in her chair. “Really? Tell me more.”
Kristen nodded and told Stef everything that happened on the way into class.
“Well, just be on time from now on. Shouldn’t be a big deal. He’ll notice you putting in the effort. Everyone makes mistakes.”
She smiled at Stef doing her best to cheer her up. “Thanks.”
Judging by Stef’s cheery demeanor, there was no doubt her day had gone far better.
Oh well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She grabbed her books and climbed onto her bed to take care of her homework.
Daydreams of Professor Wiseman quickly invaded her thoughts and took over. Different scenarios and how
she’d affected his opinion of her played through her mind. She overanalyzed everything, and often dwelled on the tiniest details and actions.
How could a man like that end up at a school like this? Was he really pissed at her for being late? And then there was the most important question, what did he think of her?
“You’re up. Good. I was about to start jumping on your bed.” Stefani finished a bowl of cereal and stared over at Kristen, who was sitting up in her bed.
Kristen had set several alarms the night before, bound and determined to get up on time. After Wiseman’s class, and the entire next day, she’d made it a point to not be late again.
“Thanks, but no way was I going to be late twice in a row.” She shook her head and snickered. Her nerves had kept her up most of the night. She was worried she’d sleep through her alarm again.
“Good luck.” Stef headed out the door.
Kristen threw the blanket off her legs.
Since she was up on time, she could be a bit more selective in choosing an outfit.
She flipped through her closet, trying to decide what to wear. Normally, she’d just grab something comfortable, more concerned about what she was going to do with herself that day than how she looked while she did it. That was before she had someone to impress. Today, Kristen only had one thing on her mind that seemed to guide her wardrobe selection.
Professor Wiseman.
She wanted something that would get the professor’s attention and show off her tightly toned body.
