Professor Bad Boy (The Bad Boy #1)

by Sloan Kincaid

  “Justin,” he says, his knowing gaze flittering back and forth between Violet and me. “I need the room. I have a lecture shortly.”

  “Yeah, we’ll just get out of the way.”

  Fuck, the last thing I need is for another professor to know I had sex with one of my students. Technically she wasn’t my student when it happened, so I’ve not broken any rules, but still…

  “Thanks for the advice, Professor. I’ll be sure to check in with student services.” She walks away and both Dave and I stand there for a moment, watching her go.

  When she’s out of ears shot, Dave turns to me. “What the fuck, Justin?”

  “What?”

  “You tapping that?”

  My fingers tighten on my backpack. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

  “Jesus Christ, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He goes serious. “You better make sure you’re not. If you know what’s good for you.”

  See, that’s the thing. I rarely do what’s good for me.

  4

  Violet

  Justin—the man I slept with and can’t get out of my head—is Professor Chisholm?

  Oh. My. God.

  I shake my head, still trying to wrap my brain around that as I step outside, my classes now finished for the day. Dark clouds knit together overhead and my stomach grumbles as I walk down the sidewalk, and make my way to the bus stop. I couldn’t afford to live on campus, so I’m renting a small, rundown basement apartment on the other side of town. The commute is long, but if I want to eat…

  A few drops fall on my arms, and my skin is so hot from my encounter with Justin, it practically sizzles on my flesh. I’m still in shock at coming face to face with him in the lecture hall, and when the girls seated bedside me started whispering about how hot he was, possession raced through me. But he’s not mine, and under the circumstances, we can’t have a repeat encounter like we did that night on the beach.

  How the hell am I going to be able to sit in his class every day and look at him without touching? I walked away from him once, but fate sure has a sick sense of humor, bringing us back together again in a situation where we must pretend not to know each other—intimately.

  Then again, I saved and worked so hard to get to Penn State, I shouldn’t be thinking about anything but my studies. When it comes right down to it, Justin is a distraction I don’t need.

  Then stop thinking about him.

  That’s so much easier said than done.

  I pinch my eyes shut to expel all visions of him from my brain, pushing the beautiful image of his cock sliding in and out of me to the dark recesses, where they are just out of reach, not easily attainable.

  The rain picks up, and I hug my precious laptop close. It’s the only one I have and I can’t afford to get it wet and risk the chance of ruining it. A car slows down beside me and I glance over to see the two assholes Justin kicked out of class. Justin. God, I have to start thinking of him as Professor Chisholm.

  “Can we give you a lift?”

  Yeah, like I’m going to climb into a car with them. I’m not some sorority girl who’s impressed by jocks on the football team.

  “No thanks.”

  “Come on, all you’re going to get all wet.” They both break out into laughter at that. God, their immaturity is beyond me. No wonder I went for a guy like Justin.

  I hurry my steps, and they follow, but when I continue to ignore them, they finally peel off. Another car pulls up to me, and assuming it’s another frat boy, I ignore it.

  “Violet,” that deep familiar voice says, and my heart beats double time when I turn to see Justin, take in the turbulent need in his eyes as he gazes at me. His jaw is tight, the tendons ready to snap as he gestures to the passenger seat with a nod. “Get in.”

  I look around. No way would I do anything to jeopardize his career, and if I climb into that car with him, feel his touch, get a whiff of his scent, I just might do something that we’ll both come to regret later. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I’m allowed to give my student a drive home in the rain.”

  I hesitate, but the rain is falling hard now, and I’m going to ruin my computer. “Okay,” I say, and hurry to the other side of the car. I slide in beside him and he looks at me when I slick my wet hair from my face.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just a bit wet and cold.” I don’t bother telling him about the two assholes.

  He grips the steering wheel, and his white knuckles don’t go unnoticed by me. His hair falls forward as he shakes his head. “What are the fucking odds?” he says.

  “I know.”

  He flicks his signal and pulls back in to traffic. “You’re not staying on campus?”

  Normally first year students live in the dorms, but I couldn’t afford it. I don’t want him to know that, though. In fact, I don’t even want him to see the place I’m living.

  “No,” is all I say.

  “You want to tell me where you do live?”

  “Just drop me off at the coffee shop up there.”

  His hand slides across the seat, and he places his warm palm on my thigh. My mind instantly races to the twenty spankings he said he still owed me.

  “I’m taking you home, Violet. You’re soaked and need to get changed before you end up sick.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll keep driving aimlessly until you do. I’ve got no plans and a full tank of gas.”

  I roll my eyes at him. I should have known he wouldn’t let up. He’s not a guy who gives anything half effort.

  “Just off Dresden Street.” He frowns, like he knows the area. “How long have you worked here?” I ask, to get his mind off the rundown area I live.

  “Two years.”

  “Do you live nearby?”

  Instead of answering, he squeezes my leg and says, “Have dinner with me.”

  “Justin, we can’t.”

  He casts me a quick glance and the want in his eyes sets my heart racing. When he looks at me like, with such need and desire, like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world, it’s hard for me to resist.

  “It’s just dinner. The dinner I never got to give you on your birthday.”

  I fold my hands in my lap, and try to settle my racing heart. “We can’t be seen together.”

  “We won’t be. Not where I want to take you.” My stomach takes that moment to grumble, and he grins. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I try to relax beside him, but my body is trembling, and it’s not from my wet and cold clothes. I want him again. He wants me. But so much is at stake.

  He drives out of town, and I glance around, taking in all the unfamiliar scenery. He eventually pulls into the driveway of a modest bungalow. He’s taken me to his home!

  “You live here?” I ask, just to be sure.

  “Yeah.” I turn at the softness in his voice, and he puts his hand on my headrest, and touches my damp hair. Everything about this situation is dangerous. He needs to keep his job, and I have to buckle down and study. Someday I want to be a lawyer, and such an indiscretion wouldn’t look good on my records.

  “What is it about you that has me so messed up?” he asks.

  “I…don’t know.”

  He sucks in a breath, and lets it out slowly. “Okay, just dinner,” he says, like he’s trying to remind himself of that.

  He kills the ignition, and hops from the car. I meet him at the front and we hurry into his place. I hug myself, as I take in his furniture and walls. It’s nicely decorated, comfortable, the kind of place I might buy once I have a law degree and start working.

  “You live alone?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Bought this when I moved here.”

  I kick off my damp flats and wander into his living room. My gaze goes to the one picture he has on a side table near his cushy leather sofa. I pick it up and study it.

  From behind me, he says, “Mom gave m
e that. A reminder for me to call home once in a while.”

  I peer at the picture and take in the happy parents standing next to their son, who is wearing a University of Virginia sweater. I touch it, and take a closer look at his parents, but when I do, my stomach recoils. “Oh, my god, Justin. Your father is the Dean of Penn State?”

  “Yeah.”

  I back up. “I really shouldn’t be here.”

  I crash into him, and his body is so warm against mine, it practically shuts down my brain. “No one knows you’re here, Violet,” he whispers into my ear. I spin, and his gaze drops to my mouth. It fuels a need in me that only Justin can sate. His throat works as he swallows and he looks past my shoulders. “Why don’t you go get a shower and get warmed up while I make us dinner. I’ll find you something of mine to wear.”

  Say no, Violet. Say no.

  “Okay.”

  5

  Justin

  I drop the pasta into the pot, and set the timer as Violet warms up in the shower. I swear to God, it’s taking every ounce of will power I have not to strip off and join her. Inviting her here was a stupid fucking idea, but there was no part of me that could take her to that shitty part of town and leave her. I ache to be near her, just to see her, hear her voice.

  I stir the pasta as the shower shuts off and I suck in a tight breath to prepare myself, but when she eventually comes around the corner wearing my too-big sweatpants and T-shirt, I nearly bite off my tongue.

  She tugs on the hem. “Kinds of big and baggy.”

  I try for casual. “I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer, so you’ll have them when you leave.”

  She sniffs. “Something smells great.”

  “Spaghetti and caesar salad.”

  She comes up to the stove, looks at the bubbling sauce. “Is that homemade?”

  Her body is so close to mine, the smell of my soap on her skin, it fucks with my half-functioning brain cells. “Yeah.”

  “You like to cook.”

  I clear my throat as my cock tightens in my unforgiving work pants. I should have changed already. “Yeah, it relaxes me. Do you?”

  “No, but I like to eat.”

  I laugh and point to the drawer. “Want to grab us some utensils?”

  She grabs the utensils, and I uncork a bottle of wine. It’s a school night, but I think we can both use a glass. I pour us each one and my hand brushes hers as I pass it over.

  “Thanks,” she says, her voice a bit breathless. “But I should warn you, I’m a lightweight.”

  I already figured that, but can’t help wanting to know more—everything—about her.

  “You’re twenty-one. I never thought in a million years you’d be just starting college.”

  “Late bloomer.”

  I gaze at her body appreciatively, then force my eyes back to hers, but she in turn, is checking me out. “Why Penn State?”

  She shrugs. “Good school.”

  “And it’s not in Virginia?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Am I really that much of an easy read?”

  “I just figured. I went to Virginia to get away from my folks, too.”

  She leans against the counter and takes another small sip. She’s already getting a soft pink flush on her cheeks. “Yours dad’s the dean, wouldn’t your tuition at Penn State have been free?”

  “Close, but I needed to get out from under their thumbs.”

  “Controlling?”

  I nod. “Oh yeah.”

  “What I would have done for that,” she says under her breath, and I still.

  “What do you mean?”

  “My folks barely know I exist. I guess I see yours as controlling because they only want what is best for you.”

  I touch her face, lightly brush my thumb over her cheek. “I’m sorry about your folks.”

  She shrugs like it’s nothing but I guess it’s everything. Sweet little Violet is a little lost in this world. Dammit, if I don’t want to help her find her way—straight into my bed—show her just how much she’s wanted.

  Stop!

  I pull back, but nearly lose it again when I see her breasts, her nipples specifically, posing against the thin T-shirt. Had I given her my oldest and most worn shirt on purpose? Probably.

  What a fucking masochist I am.

  The timer goes off, and I turn. “All ready.”

  “I’m starving.”

  So am I. Just not for food.

  I mix the pasta with the sauce and Violet carries the salad and bread to the small table in the dining room. I usually eat at the kitchen table, but I wanted it to be nicer for her.

  “This smells so good, Justin.”

  “Dig in.”

  She twirls the pasta around her fork and slides it into her mouth. My cock aches, completely jealous of the damn noodles. She moans, and it’s almost more than I can take.

  “You’ll have to teach me how to make this.”

  “Or I could just make it for you.”

  She gives me that look again—one that says we can’t keep doing this. She’s right, of course. I dig into my food, and follow the bite with the rest of my wine. I reach for the bottle to refill. “More?” I ask her.

  “No, I probably shouldn’t.” I splash a bit into my glass, and return to my food.

  “How’s your load this semester?” I ask, but the realize I chose the wrong word. Load? Yeah, I’ve got a fucking load—that I want to deplete high inside her.

  “Good. Just first year classes. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “Arts?”

  She nods. “I want to go in to law.”

  I’m impressed with her dedication, drive and intelligence. “That’s great, Violet.”

  We talk a little more and I ask questions without trying to pry until we finish eating. Violet puts her fork down, and smiles at me.

  “That was great. Thank you.”

  “Any time.”

  There’s that look again. It flashes in her eyes as she takes another look around my house. “I should get going. I have a lot of reading to do before tomorrow. My psych prof seems like a real hard ass.”

  He’s hard all right.

  “Let me dry your clothes for you first. Won’t take long.”

  “Okay.”

  I hurry to the bathroom, gather up her clothes and toss them in the dryer. I walk down the hall and find her clearing the dishes.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “You cooked for me, it’s the least I can do.”

  We load the dishwasher together and I pile the pots in the sink for later.

  “You really do have a nice place,” she says.

  “Want a tour? It’ll be a few minutes until your clothes are dry.”

  “Sure.”

  I guide her down the hall. “You already saw the kitchen, dining room, living room, and bathroom.” I stop outside one of the spare bedrooms. “This is my home office. It’s where I write at nights, when I’m not grading papers.”

  She steps up to my desk, and glances over the stack of stack of papers. “You’re writing a book?” She glances at me and I nod. “Fiction, or non-fiction.”

  “Fiction.”

  She looks genuinely impressed, unlike my parents. It’s a pipe dream, Justin. You need a real education and a real job. It was just the other day, before the new school year started that they reminded me I was doing something important with my life. Every time I sit down to write, I hear their voices in my head, which is likely the reason I’m so stifled by writer’s block.

  “Is it one of those steamy erotica novels?”

  I laugh. “No, it’s a thriller.”

  “Nice. But I might have read it if it was a steamy erotica.”

  “You need to stop saying steamy erotica.”

  She spins and sits on the edge of my desk. How is it possible that this girl makes baggy sweats and a T-shirt sexy?

  “Why?” she asks.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, but it does nothing to tamp down the lust rising
in me. “Because it makes me want to put my cock in you again.” No longer able to ignore my cravings, I step up to her, touch her, and give a little tug on her hair until her mouth is open for me.

  “Justin…we can’t.”

  “I know. It’s wrong. So fucking wrong. But why does it feel so right?” I pull her from the desk, and back her up until she’s pressed against the wall. She wets her lips, like she’s preparing them for me and I groan. “Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away. I promise.”

  A small whimpering sound catches in her throat as her eyes caress me. “I…can’t.”

  I slam my mouth over hers, and kiss her hard before I scoop her up and carry her to my bedroom. Honest to fuck, when it comes to her, I’m fighting a losing battle. “This is my room,” I say, and set her on the edge of the bed. “And this is my bed, where I jerked off to last night while looking at the pic I have of you on my phone,” I say.

  “You didn’t delete it.”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t delete yours either.” Her lips quirk, a lust-filled haze clouding her eyes. “In fact, I touched myself while looking at it last night, too.”

  Jesus.

  I drop to my knees, press my mouth to her stomach and breathe her in. “How can we fight this Violet?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe one more night. Maybe that will help us move on.”

  She shivers as I grip the hem of her shirt and peel it over her head to expose her perfect breasts. “These nipples have been fucking with me all night. Knowing you were naked under here, and knowing how much pleasure my mouth could give you…I don’t even know how I made it through the meal.”

  “Me neither.” She reaches for my shirt, her fingers a bit shaky as pops the buttons, but it’s taking too long, so I tug, and she gasps when the buttons scatter to the floor. “I’ll buy another,” I say and pull her against me, desperate to feel her naked skin on mine. I run my hands through her hair and kiss her like a man on a mission, like it’s the last time I’m ever going to taste her.