Teach Me: A Bad Boy Professor Romance (The Me Series Book 1)

by Penelope Marshall

  I wiped a stream of coffee from my forehead. "That's really up to you."

  "No! I don't wanna fight with you, Cher. I wanna make sure you're okay. Did I burn you?" He stretched out his hand toward my face.

  I stepped back, not wanting to touch him again since I hadn't gotten over the last time his hand grazed mine. "I'm fine, really."

  "You don't have to lie to me."

  "Lie to you? Why would I lie to you?" I took a step to the side. "Have a good night, Mr. Donovan."

  "I asked you to call me Regan."

  "I think I'll stick with Mr. Donovan," I sassed. "I better go get cleaned up."

  I kept walking forward, leaving him behind me—or so I thought.

  REGAN

  Everything in me begged me to walk away, but I couldn't—she had this gravity. I reached out, wrapping my fingers around her wrist, pulling her toward me. "Stay."

  "What do you mean 'stay'?"

  She looked at me, her eyes glistening in the flickering incandescent beam of the street light. Nothing about her was imperfect; even drenched in coffee, this woman still made my heart skip a beat. I was nervous, swimming in uncharted territory, and she was a student. All I wanted was to press my lips to hers—to feel the way her body felt against mine. But we were in public, and that would be inappropriate.

  Loosening my grip on her wrist, I stepped back. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched you. Please, accept my apology."

  She rubbed her arm, looking down the street almost as if she wished she were anywhere but in front of me. There was a slight pain in my stomach—an anxiousness.

  I took a step forward. "What is it?"

  "Nothing. You don't need to apologize. I just—"

  She mirrored my advance with a step back. "I can't. Not with you."

  "No, I understand. It's not professional. I would never put you in that—"

  "It has nothing to do with that."

  I inched closer, restraining myself from seizing all of her vulnerabilities. "Then what?"

  "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Donovan." She turned and walked away, disappearing into the still of the night.

  I stood there for a moment; pissed at myself for letting her leave. Pissed that I let her get under my skin. Pissed that I cared what the fuck she thought about me.

  I threw my empty cup into the trash and headed home, feeling the cold chill of rejection linger around me.

  CHER

  I hurried home, making it into bed before the clock struck midnight. Maybe I wasn't a princess like my mother had always told me. I was just a normal girl, destined to live a normal life—a normal, hermit life. I closed my eyes determined to forget about Mr. Donovan and all our frustrating encounters. He wasn't worth losing my focus over—no man was. After all, he was like every other guy who thought I was just another prize to be won.

  LATE AGAIN

  The sun shone brightly through the window, waking me from sleep. I kicked my legs out of bed, dangling them over the edge. I was unusually tired, feeling like I'd run ten miles in wet sand.

  Pushing myself to get up, I caught sight of Charity's bed still perfectly made just like the day she left. I wondered what made her want to give up her everything for a man. What could he possibly have offered that she couldn't get on her own—except the obvious, of course. I caught sight of the time.

  Shit! I'm late for class.

  I threw on a new pair of jeans and a shirt then grabbed everything else I needed for the day, but stopped at the door when I realized I hadn't brushed my teeth. I lolled my head back, releasing a sigh of despair into the empty hallway.

  I rushed back to the bathroom to brush my teeth, wash my face, and comb the knots out of my hair.

  God, why do I have to be such a mess all the time?

  I ran out the door and sprinted across campus to Mr. Donovan's class where everyone had already taken their seats to listen to him recite verses from Romeo and Juliet.

  He paced back and forth. "My only love sprang from my only hate."

  The way the words spilled effortlessly from his soft lips made my heart skip a beat. Taking stock of the other women's demeanor in class, it seemed I wasn't the only one he had that effect on.

  I moved to my desk, trying to garner as little attention as I could, but of course, he stopped mid-sentence. "It's nice of you to join us, Ms. Carson."

  "Yes, well, I had a long night."

  The class broke out into laughter.

  "Care to share?"

  "No, I'd rather not," I sassed, taking my seat.

  There was no reason for him to ask. He knew exactly what happened.

  Just a man being a jerk like always. Dick.

  "Well, now that you've joined us, would you like to recite the line you came up with from your homework?"

  "Homework?" I racked my brain for the information he was referring to.

  "Yes, the homework."

  I must have missed the homework while I was busy drooling over him during class the day before.

  "A line," he encouraged. "A line you would tell a suitor if you weren't interested in his advances."

  Is this a joke?

  There was no way that could have been the homework. He was making this up. I looked around, noting the scrawled pieces of paper littering the desks of every student.

  I cleared my throat and parted my lips. "Well, I—"

  "No, please come to the front of the class."

  I narrowed my eyes, and if I could have thrown daggers at him from where I was sitting, he would have been dead in two seconds flat. Standing, I moved toward the front of the class, leering at him with contempt. I spun around to see all eyes resting on me.

  "So, if a man were to approach me and ask me out, I would say 'no' if I weren't interested." I started back toward my desk.

  He cleared his throat. "You forgot that you needed to say it in a way Juliet would have said it in her day," he explained with an impish smile.

  Twiddling my thumbs, I searched my brain for something profound, but the only words coming to mind were of the four-letter sort.

  I glanced over in his direction, addressing him with the answer I knew he was prodding for. "I wish to take my time before I let you sweep me off my feet, Sir. Whispering sweet nothings into my ear bears no fruit. I am not easily swayed by mere words. I watch actions. I am like crystal, too fragile to be dropped—my heart too valuable to be mishandled."

  "But what if, fair lady, you have yet to gaze upon my actions?" he parried, moving closer to me.

  The class oooo'd and awww'd.

  "Sir, I have seen your actions—crass and overt—you know nothing of boundaries, and I, for one, am not so easily swooned by your feeble attempts to win my attention."

  A gasp resounded the room. We were no longer roleplaying, and I could only hope no one else could sense the tension between us.

  He brushed by me as he moved to my other side. "And what have I done so crass and overt, that I am not redeemable in your eyes?"

  I paused, searching for a reply that would end our banter. Then it struck me. "You're ordinary."

  The class fell silent as the color drained from his face.

  REGAN

  She went too far, and I was done with feeling. Who the fuck did this girl think she was? Who the fuck did I think she was—giving her so much power over me?

  At that moment, I was through with her. I turned to the class who stared back and, in an appalling response, they all began to clap.

  Someone sitting in the back went as far as to yell out, "Bravo."

  They must've thought we were in character. But I knew, and she did as well, that we were discussing the events from the night before. How dare she call me ordinary.

  I pulled my sleeve up to uncover my watch. "All right, we'll pick this up tomorrow with a new set of students. Have your lines ready."

  Cher made her way to her desk as the class began to filter out, grabbing their laptops and bags. I was infuriated, but I wasn't going to cross that line. She would ne
ver know she meant more to me than a body taking up a seat in my class.

  She gathered her books, and headed to the door, glancing over her shoulder one last time before walking out. I leaned against my desk—irritated—frustrated. Scratching the scruff on my jaw, I lost myself in thought. Her banter enraged me and intrigued me at the same time.

  "Mr. Donovan," a soft voice filtered through my thoughts.

  I blinked, realizing the next class had made their way in and had been staring at me intently—for how long, I wasn't sure.

  "Yes. Sorry. Let's get started. Who has their lines ready?"

  ART CLASS

  CHER

  I hurried down the hall, trying to get as far away from his class as possible. Maybe if I got far enough, it would erase everything I'd said? I called him ordinary. What worse thing could I have called someone—let alone a man—a man like him? I cringed every time the image of his face going pale ran through my mind. Too bad there wasn't a reset button, or I would have gladly pressed it twenty times by now.

  "Hey, slow down," Reese's voice caught my attention.

  Oh, God. What does he want?

  I pretended not to hear him, but he had made quick work of running up to me, resting his large paw on my shoulder. I eyed his hand, wondering what about my expression gave him permission to touch me.

  "Wanna go out with me Thursday night? There's a party after the game, and I need the prettiest girl in school on my arm for the victory I'm about to bring home."

  "Prettiest girl in school, huh?"

  "That's right." He smiled proudly.

  I pushed his hand off my shoulder. "I don't know what you see in me, but I'm sure you have your pick of any girl on this campus. Why do you keep asking me out? Are you a glutton for punishment or something?"

  He chuckled, revealing his perfect white teeth. "Cher, I don't know what you see when you look in the mirror, but it's definitely not what I see. There's just something about you that I can't seem to get out of my mind."

  "Attitude?"

  "Well, there's that. But you're—different. You're not like the other mindless girls around here."

  I'd never heard him grunt more than a few egotistical phrases here and there but, at that moment, he made me feel special. Who would have thought? But I could still be reeling from the emotional roller coaster I'd just walked away from. Maybe I wasn't thinking clearly with all my walls up.

  "What time," I blurted out.

  His face lit up. "I'll meet you in the parking lot after the game. A black Land Rover."

  "And how should I dress?" I asked, biting my lip.

  "You're beautiful in anything." He winked.

  A smile broke through my usually stone façade.

  "A smile. Wow, you're even more beautiful," he complimented, walking away backward.

  A few of his teammates jumped on him as he turned, and after a few seconds of chatter they all looked over at me, grinning. What had he told them? A sinking feeling overtook me when I realized what I'd just done. I was going on an actual date. I was ashamed to admit it, even to myself, but I'd never been on one. While my mother was alive, her primary concern had been my education and getting me to a point in life where I could take care of myself. She never wanted me to depend on a man.

  "Men are nothing but the devil's playground," she'd always said, ingraining the warning into my brain as early as I could remember. I pivoted on my heels to call out to Reese, ready to decline his offer, but he'd already vanished around the corner with his friends.

  Dammit.

  Clutching tightly onto my books, I strolled through campus and into art class. I only had it twice a week, but it was my escape from every expectation my mother had of me. I was able to free my mind of any boundaries she had imposed. I was free—free to be messy—free to be the real me. It might not have been exciting to some, but to me it meant everything.

  I took my seat next to a middle-aged woman who never spoke more than two words at any given time. I think her name was Candi, but I couldn't say for certain.

  "All right, class. Today we're creating abstract art. Go with what you feel," Mrs. Gray, my aging art teacher, croaked.

  She flitted about the room, handing out black construction paper and sidewalk chalk.

  "What I feel," I muttered to myself. "What I feel..."

  "Shhh. Keep it down," Candi growled as she swiped her first stroke of gray across her sheet.

  Gray. Figures.

  I picked up the red chalk and began to make clean strokes, imagining that I was floating over a rainbow, hoping to see my mom on the other side.

  God, I miss her.

  The light blue chalk called out to me next, and as I reached for it, Candi stuck her hand out and snatched it right out from me.

  I glared at her, and she sneered back. What the hell had gotten into her? She was acting like I'd stolen her last cookie. Sliding my paper over, I opted for the light pink chalk and began to shade in dark areas, letting my mind wander as Mrs. Gray hovered over her CD player, filling the room with the sweet sound of Bach's Symphony, Air.

  My hand continued to move to and fro, switching between colors without a second thought as my mind trailed off to my impending date with Reese.

  Mrs. Gray turned the music off—the silence instantly dragging me back to reality.

  "He's handsome," Candi said, nodding as she eyed my sheet of paper. "Needs some blue, though."

  "Huh?"

  I looked down, wondering what she was yammering about, and realized in my haze I'd drawn a picture of Mr. Donovan. My jaw dropped. Why couldn't I get this man off my mind? Even when I wasn't thinking about him—I was. His calmness. His swagger. His scent.

  I glanced around the room, hoping no one else had seen the picture, and quickly folded it in half before sliding it into one of my books.

  Candi leaned in. "You know who that looks like to me?"

  My heart dropped. "Who?"

  "That nice man from the perfume billboards. You know, the guy who never wears a shirt."

  "Yeah, that's exactly who it is."

  "You mind if I have that drawing when you're done with it?"

  No, she couldn't have the drawing I made of Mr. Donovan. It was mine. What the fuck was wrong with her? What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I so protective over a piece of paper covered with chalk?

  "All right, class. We'll see y'all in a couple days. Have your pictures done and ready to turn in."

  I stood up and walked over to Mrs. Gray. "Do you mind if I have another sheet of the black paper to draw my picture over again?"

  She shook her head. "Art is about what you're feeling at the moment. There are no do-overs. I want what you originally created."

  I smiled, completely irritated by her answer. "Okay. Thank you."

  I turned away. As soon as I walked out of the room, I slammed right into Mr. Donovan, dropping my books on the floor like I had the very first time I met him.

  Fuck me.

  His face was tight as he bent down to help me pick up my belongings. "This is starting to become a habit."

  I shook my head. "You're becoming a habit," I murmured under my breath.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Nothing," I said quickly. "It doesn't mean anything."

  Then it happened, the moment that would change my life forever. Leaning forward to reach for the drawing which had slid out of my book, our cheeks touched, releasing all the uncontrollable electricity I had built up for him since we met. I jumped back, our eyes connecting immediately. I was lost in a sea of lust—of want—of yearning for a man I barely knew.

  Everything my mom had warned me about went right out the proverbial window, and I wanted nothing more than to have a taste of him.

  "I, uh—" I stuttered, trying to grab every last paper off the floor.

  "No, I—" he interjected, picking up the corner of the black sheet from art class, causing it to fall open.

  I reached out and ripped the paper from his hand; my body
flushed hot like lava. "No!"

  He stared at the picture for a moment. "What's this?"

  "Nothing. It's none of your business."

  "It looks like it is my business."

  I glared at him. Maybe out of irritation, but mostly out of embarrassment. I'd inadvertently shown my hand, and now he had the power.

  So I did the only thing I could think of—the only thing that made sense at the moment. "I have to get ready for my date."

  He didn't have to know my date was still a few days away, or that I was going out with his class clown. I didn't stay long enough to see his reaction but, as I walked away, I knew I'd just made another fucking blunder. Calling him ordinary and then telling him I had a date were probably not the smartest things to have done. What I wouldn't have given to be able to step back and seize the moment—press his goddam lips to mine and just be done with it.

  REGAN

  A fucking date? Who the hell could she be going out with? I thought she hated men? I don't know why, but I needed answers. I started down the hall after her when Sophia blocked my path.

  "Where are you going in such a rush, handsome?"

  Handsome? God, this woman.

  I pointed toward the exit. "I was just going—"

  She glanced over her shoulder. "Where?"

  I cleared my throat as I watched Cher disappear through the exit, taking my breath with her.

  "I'm headed to my next class. You?"

  "I was headed out for lunch. I was hoping you could get away for a quick bite."

  I stepped back, stealing quick glances at the exit, wishing I could just leave. "No, sorry. Class and all."

  "How about tomorrow then? I know you don't have class tomorrow afternoon."

  I focused in on her. "Do you now? And how do you know my schedule?"

  She smiled coyly. "I have my ways."

  "I'm sure you do."

  She snaked her arm around mine. "Let's have lunch tomorrow."

  I shifted my gaze from the exit, pulling my arm away. "Ms. Casey, I've told you many times, I'm not interested in dating colleagues."

  "Regan, I've asked you to call me Sophia."