The Temptation: A Professor Student Romance (Forbidden First Times Book 6)

by Sofia T Summers

  If I wanted to push past this and move on, turn into a successful adult, I was going to have to work a fuck of a lot harder. I was really going to have to piss her off.

  I was going to have to make her hate me. She needed to think that I was a monster, that I was scum, that I was the same kind of elitist douchebag who would sneer at her lovely curvy body instead of appreciating her womanly figure the way I did.

  It shouldn’t have bothered me. I had built my career on being cold and distant, on keeping myself apart from students. I hadn’t even liked fraternizing with undergrads when I had been a grad student – something practically unheard of, especially considering most of my friends at the time had made a game of fucking as many senior girls as possible.

  But I was going to do it.

  When class ended, I strode out with my briefcase under my arm and my eyes locked at a fixed spot in front of me.

  “What’s with him today,” I heard someone hiss as I walked past.

  “He’s such a prick,” someone else responded.

  Someone else – someone with a heart – would have been bothered by that.

  But it just cheered me up.

  Maybe I’ve got a handle on this after all, I told myself as I made my way down the hall and into the suite where I had my office was. It was blessedly empty, and I unlocked my office door and sat down behind my desk, breathing a sigh of relief. I had a while before I had to go teach the freshman seminar that I was now deeply regretting I’d picked up, and I intended to fully enjoy my time alone.

  And I did.

  Until I heard a knock at the door and looked up to see Gina.

  “Hey, you,” she said, stepping inside. “Feel like a walk to the dining hall? I’m starving.”

  I shrugged. “Sure,” I said. Maybe part of going out of my way to alienate students involved getting chummier with fellow faculty members ... and I had to be okay with that, even if meant getting friendlier with Gina.

  “Cool,” Gina replied, sounding more like a student than a professor. She raised an eyebrow at me as I reached for my coat. “I always think it’s so strange seeing the students in their natural habitat.”

  I laughed. “No kidding,” I told her.

  We left the Liberal Arts building and made our way to the dining hall, which was buzzing with activity and the scent of warm, sour steam. I wrinkled my nose.

  “God, I don’t miss the days of having to eat here,” Gina groused as we got in line after paying. “But now that I have a choice, it’s almost fun.” She filled a white ceramic bowl with cereal and added a piece of Danish and a cup of orange juice to her tray.

  I only got coffee, black.

  We walked to a small table in the back and sat down. Gina stretched luxuriously, like a cat, and cocked her head to the side.

  “I’m exhausted,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s on Tuesday. It feels like it should be Thursday. At least.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Rough weekend?”

  She shrugged, playing coy for once. “Sort of,” she said. “How about you?”

  Oh, it was fine, I thought. I just came dangerously close to groping a student ... in the middle of a fucking grocery store. And then I went home and jacked off to thoughts of her body, because I’m the utmost professional.

  “It was fine,” I said. “A little boring.”

  She nodded. “Sometimes, that’s good,” she said.

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Gina shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Just, you know. Nice to get a break from these crazies.” She gestured at the clumps of students gathered in the dining hall. I must have nodded emphatically, because she caught my gaze with hers. “One of these girls giving you trouble?”

  “Come again?”

  “Always happens, right?” Gina continued. “Students getting crushes on their teachers. It’s a tale as old as time.”

  Before I could protest, she laughed and launched into a story about one of her students from the year before, a guy who had carried a rather obvious torch for her. I listened as she talked, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eden Cooper. She was walking with a blonde girl and chatting animatedly, with a fiery look in her eyes. Her tits were bouncing with every step and a hot jolt of lust raced through my body.

  Just then, I knew I was going to have to work far, far harder if I fully intended to forget about her.

  9

  Eden – Thursday

  I had the feeling that Professor Marks was ignoring me, and it was making me miserable. He’d barely looked at me in class on Tuesday and when I’d seen him in the dining hall after class, he’d made eye contact for a nanosecond before turning away. I’d been walking with Petra and she’d practically had to drag me away.

  I knew I was being crazy. It was almost enough to make me wish that I wasn’t a senior, that I was young enough where I could transfer schools and go somewhere else and just be happy there. Someplace large and anonymous, like where my mom had wanted me to go in the first place.

  Someplace with no Professor Hotties.

  I hated that nickname – it was so cheesy and cornball, but ever since Petra had coined it ironically, I hadn’t been able to think of Professor Marks as anything else. It was almost like a secret between us.

  Well, except for the fact that he’d never hear it.

  And he never would – I’d have rather died than let him know of my private little pet name for him.

  I was sure he had a private little pet name for me, too: Annoying Student Who Won’t Leave Me Alone.

  Ugh, I thought that morning as I walked to campus, stopping every now and then to take a sip of the coffee clutched in my hand. What a total mess. Maybe I should just drop his class – the add/drop period is still open.

  But then I’d have to pick another senior sem, and what if there isn’t another English one? Would I get stuck in summer school?

  No, I just have to ovary up and get over him.

  I squared my shoulders and walked into the building with my hopes renewed. The caffeine from my coffee was pumping through my veins and I plastered a confident smile on my face. I knew I was going to beat this – I was going to shake my intense crush on Professor Marks if it was the last thing I did.

  But when I walked into his classroom, my hopes deflated like a balloon.

  Professor Marks wasn’t there.

  A grad student who I vaguely recognized was standing awkwardly behind the lectern. He cleared his throat when he saw me and gave me a cautious smile.

  “Hey,” he said. “Prof. Marks is sick today – I’m his TA, Peter.”

  It was like the universe had known that today was the day was finally going to move past Professor Marks and decided to fuck with me.

  “Hi,” I said. “Is class canceled?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, ‘fraid so. He said he was going to send me the material last night but I guess he’s really under the weather. I figured the least I could do was show up and let everyone know since I didn’t have the log-in for the class email.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  Peter nodded. “Right,” he said. “So, uh, have any questions?”

  I shook my head. “No,” I said shortly. “Thanks.”

  As soon as I left the room, I remembered that I did have a question – about how many secondary sources would be appropriate to use in my upcoming paper. I hadn’t even started yet, and it was due in the middle of next week. I groaned and almost turned around, but didn’t want to risk looking like an idiot.

  The interaction with Peter had put me in such a bad mood that I left the building in a huff. Even though I’d skipped my technology core class on Tuesday, I decided to skip it again – something I’d never done in my almost-four years at Oakbrook. I had a shift at the bookstore later in the day, but it was cold and rainy outside, and I figured that going home for a few hours and changing into sweats was the best bet.

  The entire way, I was fuming. Rationally, I knew there was nothing I could have done dif
ferently – Professor Marks was sick. He wasn’t avoiding me, and certainly not on purpose.

  But it felt like a slight all the same. Was he really so sick that he couldn’t have emailed the class to tell us that our meeting that day had been canceled?

  Did he have someone taking care of him? A girlfriend?

  Or worse, a fiancée?

  The thoughts ran rampantly through my head and I practically ran over the snow-covered campus to the street, where I crossed without even looking at oncoming traffic. My apartment complex loomed ahead, a safe beacon in my day of confusion and anger.

  And it wasn’t even ten in the morning.

  When I got home, I plopped down on the couch and grabbed my laptop. I opened my email and let my fingers hover over the keys.

  Professor Marks,

  Why are you avoiding me?

  You know I didn’t run into you on purpose, right?

  And you’re being a total ass!

  I didn’t write that.

  But I wanted to.

  Instead, I took a deep breath.

  Professor Marks,

  Quick question about the paper – how many secondary sources would you say are appropriate? Would have asked you today but the TA said you were out sick.

  I stared at the screen and bit my lip. Then, I signed off and hit ‘send’.

  His reply came, lightning-fast and seconds later.

  Eden,

  2-5. Preferably at least 3 but no more than 4.

  Let me know if you need anything else.

  I stared at his reply for a long time, rolling the words around in my head.

  Let me know if you need anything else? I thought, biting my lip and flushing hotly.

  He must really be sick.

  My stomach flipped and flopped as I hit ‘reply’ and then typed

  Thanks.

  Peter said you were sick.

  I hope you feel better soon.

  I knew it was foolish and dumb – the exact kind of thing I was trying to avoid doing. But if he really was sick, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. It was serious business for a professor, a tenure-track professor at that, to miss class. I could probably count on one hand all the times it had happened since I’d stated at Oakbrook.

  I just hoped he was okay. I pictured him lying in bed, pale and wan, his winter-vacation tan faded. For some reason, I saw him in old-fashioned pajamas, like the kind Cary Grant or Gary Cooper would have worn in a movie.

  I felt a strong, protective surge rush over me. I wanted to make sure that he was okay – I wanted to bring him chicken noodle soup and put my hand on his forehead and ask him if there was anything else I could do.

  When my laptop pinged, I looked down at my email and gasped. I had a new message waiting for me from Professor Marks, and when I read it, my jaw dropped.

  Oh, you definitely made me feel better.

  I swallowed hard. My heart was pounding in my chest. I couldn’t believe that I was doing it, but I reached down and pinched myself on the thigh, just to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming. The pinch hurt and I yelped in pain, then shook my head like a dog shaking itself dry.

  He’s flirting with me, I realized. Professor Marks, who all the students want, is flirting with ME.

  It was ridiculous. It was dangerous. Especially considering he’d sent it via email, on the school server of all things.

  There was only one other possibility – that he was too sick to know what he was doing, that he hadn’t been flirting with me at all ... but rather had just taken far too much Benadryl or cough syrup or god knows what – whiskey with tea?

  What did professors take when they got sick, anyway?

  I tried to tell myself that it didn’t mean anything. I tried to tell myself that it meant nothing, that there was no way in hell he was flirting.

  I couldn’t deny the truth, though.

  He was flirting with me.

  And now, I wanted him more than ever.

  10

  Will – Sunday

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so sick. It had to have been in grad school, where I’d missed an entire fucking weeks’ worth of work because I couldn’t stop throwing up for long to leave the shitty apartment I’d been renting.

  I hated being sick. On top of how uncomfortable it was, it made me feel weak. I spent days lying on the couch, watching mindless television and flipping through the channels like a housewife.

  By the weekend though, the worst of it had subsided, and I was starting to feel a lot more like myself. I woke up Sunday morning feeling pent-up, like I’d spent months inside instead of just days, and I knew I had to do something about it or I’d start to lose my mind.

  Back at the end of the last year, I’d heard one of the other faculty members mention a new brewery that had opened on the outskirts of town. I wasn’t normally the type of guy who fancied sitting at a bar and drinking by himself for hours, but I really needed to get out of the house, and going to a new brewery would hopefully be just the low-key kind of thing that would relax me.

  Not to mention, I really needed a break from my regular life. From work, from my well-meaning colleagues like Gina.

  And especially from Eden. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face and her lush curves parading in front of me. I had to do something to shake this hold that she had on me, something to push her out of my mind.

  Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t make an online dating profile and see if taking out another woman or six wouldn’t do the trick. But the semester was already starting to ramp up and I knew that I wouldn’t have a ton of time for things like dating. It wouldn’t be fair to the women, and while I wasn’t the world’s most considerate person, that wasn’t something that wholly appealed to me – the idea of using one woman to get over another.

  Rolling out of bed, I took a shower (where I desperately tried not to think of how I’d jacked off to Eden) got dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a light button-down shirt under a sweater. The drive to the brewery was just long enough to be enjoyable – it was out almost to the country, down a long, winding road flanked by snow-covered trees. The brewery itself was small but not unimpressive – a fire roared in a large hearth by the corner and it was furnished with “rustic” touches: reclaimed wood and vintage kitsch.

  Just the thing to distract myself, I thought as I bellied up to the bar and ordered a sampler flight of beers. While it wasn’t packed, most of the seats were taken, and suddenly it felt so fucking good to be in a place that wasn’t completely populated with students.

  Maybe I’d gone in the wrong direction when it had come to my career – maybe I should have gone the library science route or something similar, something that didn’t mean standing in front of students year after year and lecturing them.

  Or maybe I just needed to be nicer to myself, to realize when I needed a break ... and be diligent about taking those breaks. Now that I was tenure-track, I finally had a decent salary for the first time in my life.

  I sipped my beer and thought about taking a vacation – maybe to Scotland, where I could travel from one isle to the next and sample all the Scotch. Maybe to Italy – Venice and Rome weren’t terribly appealing, but I’d heard good things about Siena.

  At any rate, it would do me good to get out of the country for a while. I switched from one beer to the next and drank it, savoring the taste on my tongue. More people filtered into the brewery and the bartender who had been polite but distant grew even more distant. I was sitting with an empty flight in front of me for almost ten minutes before someone noticed and took my next order, where I took the opportunity to buy two pints.

  That was when I heard peals of laughter coming behind me. When I turned around, my heart sank. Eden Cooper and a group of Oakbrook students were crowded around a small table. The table was meant for two, but there were six students, shoving and pushing and squabbling over the chairs.

  Well, except for Eden. She was standing shyly to the side with her hands twisted in fron
t of her curvy hips and looking down at her shoes. I sensed that she was uncomfortable and – I loathed myself for this – I couldn’t suppress the urge to protect her, the urge to go over and wrap my arm around her shoulders and guide her away.

  Unfortunately, in that exact moment, she looked up and our eyes met. Twin pink circles appeared on her pale cheeks and her eyes got wider, as if she couldn’t believe that she was really seeing me, good ole Professor Marks, in the middle of Ravening Rock Brewpub.

  “I’ll be right back,” I heard her say to her group of friends. As she picked her way through the brewpub towards me, I felt rooted to the spot. I instantly wished that I’d just paid my tab and left, disappeared before this crisis could take place, but she was at my side in seconds.

  “I was just leaving,” I lied.

  Eden glanced over my shoulder and saw the two pints of beer. “Then why did you order those?”

  I sighed. “Eden, you should go back to your friends,” I told her. “It’s not a good idea to be talking like this.”

  Especially not after I majorly fucked up and sent you that stupid email, I thought. Being sick did many things to me that I hated, but the fact that it lowered my inhibitions was probably the worst. Eden’s kind words had elicited a horrid, horny reaction in me ... and I’d responded in kind, which had been incredibly fucking stupid.

  “Why not?” Eden asked. She raised an eyebrow at me and put her hands on her hips, like she was sassing me. “We’re in public. It’s a free country. I’m allowed to be here.”

  I laughed and immediately, Eden looked wounded.

  “Sorry,” I told her. “It’s just ... that’s the kind of thing some surly teen would say to their mother.”