Change of Course: A MM Professor/Student Novel (Change of Hearts Book 3)

by Sierra Hill

  I gesture toward the seat just inside the door and round the corner of my desk, sitting back and offering what I hope is an interested expression. All the while desperate for Kyler’s arrival.

  “I have ten minutes before my next session, Jess. What can I help you with?”

  She clears her throat, biting on her bottom lip, in what I think is meant to be a coyly, seductive action.

  “Well, you see…I’m struggling with the assignment you gave us that’s due next week. I was hoping I could get your individual help. You know, outside of office hours.”

  She emphasizes this request with a bat of her eyelashes, her bright blue eyes telling me exactly what she wants from me outside of office hours.

  Not gonna happen, Jess.

  But I can’t just come out and say that can I? She is still under my tutelage and I am paid to educate her on the basis of my role.

  I’ve found through past experience that there’s never really a good way to let down a young, impressionable woman who has what one would consider an unrequited crush. Even if I attempt to her down easily, it can turn out to be a lethal combination of young adult angst and drama. A woman scorned and all that.

  I remove my glasses, rubbing at the pressure point on each side of the bridge of my nose, and then lean forward, elbows on my desk, hands clasped together. My glasses dangle between my fingers.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that for you, Jess. However, as an alternative option, you can contact John Haverstein, my TA, who will be more than happy to sit down and provide you with feedback on your paper. Or, if you wish, you can send me your outline and I’ll give you some pointers. How would that work for you?”

  Giving her a comforting smile, I can see this isn’t the answer she wanted. While I don’t presume to know what’s in her mind, it’s fairly obvious by the dejection in her facial expression that this wasn’t the outcome she expected.

  “Oh,” she says, her shoulders falling dejectedly. “I see. Well, that’s a bummer.”

  Her sad blue eyes return to mine. She is a very pretty girl, and I’m sure any one of these college-aged boys would gladly take her out. But I’m not stepping into that quagmire of shit. I’ve already gotten myself into an unintended hot mess with Kyler, who should be here any minute.

  “Let me get you John’s email,” I continue, looking to move this along and provide her with the info she needs. “You can contact him directly.”

  In the minute I’ve buried my head in my phone to pull up my contact list looking for John’s number, Jess has skirted around my desk and plops down on the edge, mere inches from me. She smells watermelon sweet, but her voice has lost the innocent charade, dropping to a seductive simper.

  Jess’s hand skims down my arm, fingernails dragging over the exposed flesh of my forearm, until her palm lands over my hand. I jerk my head up at the same moment she leans in, her breasts bobbing in my vision, brushing against my face.

  “I’m sure John will be great, Professor, but perhaps there are some other extra-curricular activities I could do with you instead? I think you could teach me so much more.”

  My mind reels as my body reacts by pulling back away from her, but the space is limited, and I have nowhere I can go. I’ve completely lost control over the interaction.

  Just then, there’s a knock at my door and I peer over her shoulder to find Kyler, his eyes narrowed as he assesses the situation he’s walked in on. I snap my hand out of her clutch and push my chair back so hard it flies against the wall and I pitch forward slightly before reaching out to grab the edge of the desk.

  “Jess, it’s time for you to go. My next student awaits.” I nudge my chin toward the door at Kyler, whose face wears a smile, but I can see the distrust, his arms crossed and muscles strained, corded at his neck and jawline.

  Jess casually jumps off, smoothing down her skirt with purpose, and returns to the chair to pick up her belongings as if nothing has happened and she hasn’t just tried – unsuccessfully, I might add – to seduce me.

  My skin crawls from being so easily cornered like that. I’ve had a few female students hit on me, but they’ve all been much more subtle than Jess. Thankfully Kyler showed up on time this time, otherwise, I have no idea how I would’ve handled Jess’s proposition and my subsequent refusal.

  “Well, thanks for the help, Professor Mathiasson. I’ll email John and let you know if I need anything else from you.”

  She peers over her shoulder and blows me an air kiss. Jesus Christ, a fucking air kiss. Can’t she go hunt down a few college frat boys instead of me?

  I nod curtly, readjusting my chair and fiddling with my tie as she turns to Kyler, passing him in her exit toward the door. As if noticing him for the first time, she gives him a head to toe glance and licks her lips sensually.

  “Hope you have a good study session. This one’s hard to get…” She pauses, giving me a knowing look. “Time on the calendar with.”

  And then she spins on her heels and leaves me in perplexed silence. Even Kyler, the man who always seems to have a snappy comeback, seems utterly speechless.

  Kyler takes a seat, dropping his book bag on the floor next to his chair, and whirls back around toward the door before eyeballing me again.

  He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Did I interrupt something?”

  I glare at him with a WTF look. “Not even close. I think I made it fairly clear the last time we met, I don’t date students. Or hook up with them, either. And certainly not overly aggressive females like that.”

  “Whatever you say, prof.”

  His tone is flippant with a bite of skepticism, which for some reason makes me angry. I lean forward, arm poised on the desk, a finger pointed in his direction.

  “Don’t be an ass. I’m here to teach, not get in co-eds’ panties.”

  His eyebrows hike skyward. “Me? I’m the bad guy in this situation? Why don’t we just roll back the clock an hour and see who should receive that award? I believe you hold that title right now.”

  Dropping my head in my palms, I let out a cringe-worthy growl of frustration.

  “I’m sorry for calling you out this morning, Kyler. There’s no excuse for my behavior. But when I didn’t see you in my class on time, something snapped inside me. I thought you didn’t show and were avoiding me after Saturday night. And then you walked into my classroom looking like this.” I lift my head, gesturing my hand toward him.

  Kyler is daringly gorgeous, but this rumpled, just got out of bed, sexed-up hair and rosy glow over the freckled face look is too much for me. I’m waving the white flag of surrender right now. Because Kyler on any day is tough on my willpower, but this sexy, skater boy Kyler? I’m not sure how I’ll be able to resist this semester if he continues to show up in this attire.

  He licks his bottom lip, the edge of a dirty smile posturing at the corners of his mouth as he stands, closing the distance between us across the desk.

  Kyler leans over, our hands meeting in the center of the desk. Not touching, exactly, but his knuckles brush mine with the space between us charged with the low hum of electricity.

  “Like what, professor?” His voice is soft and wispy, laced with a sensual quality made to entice and lure me in, his eyes flickering with arousal.

  I can’t look at him. I won’t. I need to remain in control and not let him tempt me like this.

  My voice cracks, like my vocal cords were just ripped and pulled, like a bow across strings.

  “You know what I mean. Don’t play coy. It’s unbecoming.”

  The zap is electric as his palm closes over my hand, brushing over my knuckles with his fingers, before turning my hand over and tracing the inside of my palm with his fingertips. I close my eyes at the exquisite touch that borders on teasing affection.

  “I would never,” he says with an innocent grin that I catch a glimpse of when I open my eyes. “But I will say is I think the feeling’s mutual. Unfortunately for both of us.”

  14

  Kyler
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  I don’t know what to do with this goddamn inconvenient attraction I have for my professor. My older, sexier, and absolutely off-limits professor, with whom I have to work side-by-side with all semester long in this course.

  This worry plagues me as I step out of the shower and get ready for my shift at the bar tonight. It’s annoyingly bothersome because unlike previous hookups, who I would send out the door and on their merry way when I was done with them and never think twice about it again, Lucas is on a constant back burner in my head. And that pilot light keeps flickering on the moment I’m in his presence.

  And it continues to burn even when I’m not.

  Like right now, as I dry my hair roughly with the towel. I’m reminded how rough his hands were when they dug into my hair, his naked body pressed up behind me, my hands flat against the wall, face turned to the side so he could kiss me hungrily as his free hand slid over my skin and between my ass cheeks.

  I clench my cheeks together recalling the feeling, throwing the towel forcefully on the floor with a grunt and glancing down at my stiff erection. I mumble a frustrated curse at Lucas Mathiasson for turning me into this guy.

  The guy who can’t seem to – or want to – forget about the one night in heaven we spent together.

  But dammit, I don’t have time to rub one out before I hit the road. I’ll just have to wait and find someone later tonight who will satisfy my needs and get me off. Even if that man isn’t Lucas.

  I finger through my damp hair, spritz a light musky cologne in all the right places, and brush my teeth before I head to my bedroom to change. I riffle through my ‘work clothes’ and find a fishnet tank top that I love to wear because it exposes my nipple piercings, which always get the right amount of attention from the curious onlookers, and then grab a pair of unicorn print shorts.

  Socks, shoes, and a condom in the pocket and I’m ready to head out the door. I pass Peyton at the kitchen table, nibbling on some carrots, with Pussy Cat perched on the counter staring her down. I snort laugh at the intensity of Pussy Cat’s glare. My cat likes sharing the apartment with another female as much as the Queen seems to like Meghan Markle. Very little and for no good reason.

  I kiss Peyton on the head and glance over her shoulder at what she’s reading.

  “Homework?”

  She nods her head and then swivels her face to me, tilting her nose in the air to breathe in deeply. “Ooh, I love that cologne. It smells so good. So sexy.”

  I pose, popping out a hip in a saucy stance and lifting my shoulder to my chin, very Marilyn Monroe-esque. “What can I say? If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

  She arches a light-blonde brow and rolls her eyes. “Which you seem to have no problem doing.”

  “How can I be blamed for this perfect package?” I sweep my hand over my body and smirk. “I can’t help that all the boys love me.”

  Peyton sighs, dropping her chin to her palm, elbow planted in the pages of her open book. “I worry about you, Kyler. You’re burning the candle at both ends, with school and your job, and all the boys in and out of your life. Don’t you ever feel like it’s too much?”

  “Pssh,” I flap a hand in the air before ruffling her hair. She slaps my hand away haughtily. “Someday, Pey-Pey, you will have your cherry popped and your first taste of sex. And then we’ll see how you feel about it being too much. Until then, I gotta scoot. Love you, babes. Don’t wait up.”

  I grab a carrot from her plate and pop it in my mouth before waving goodbye and dashing out the door into the stifling heat of the Phoenix evening. My truck barely turns over, taking three attempts to start the engine. But she finally purrs and I rev the engine before putting it in reverse and backing out of my spot, leaving Peyton and my worries behind as I head toward downtown Tempe.

  It’s just after midnight and I’m dead on my feet. I’ve been slogging through the last hour of drink slinging, counting down until closing time.

  The night has been fairly slow, considering it’s a Monday. No games happening in town, which generally draws a crowd afterwards, and the only promo tonight is the Margarita Madness.

  Noticing a few tables that can be cleared in the back of the bar, I motion to my coworker, Roarke. “I’m going to take care of that. You okay here?”

  He waves me off, a little snippy over having his conversation interrupted with the dude he’s talking with. I flip the latch and open the bar gate, grabbing a serving tray and a bar rag, and head toward the back.

  It’s relatively dark, with green and blue neon lights flashing for ambiance, as I weave through a few guys dancing and talking. I notice one of them, Donnie, a regular, and nod my chin his way. He raises his empty glass toward the ceiling.

  “I got you, Donnie. Catch you on the flipside. Be right back.”

  He gives me a grateful smile and returns his attention to the younger guy he’s with. I clean up a few tables, enjoying the pop song being played from the DJ sound booth, and begin moving my hips to the tune as I wipe down the table.

  “Nice pink unicorn shorts. Is that an official uniform?”

  I swing around, surprised by the teasing quality of his voice to find Prof…er, Lucas standing behind me, arms crossed over his chest, looking naturally suave and gorgeous. And completely out of his element. I have to blink a few times, wondering if it’s a mirage. Wondering if my mind has just conjured him up because I’ve been thinking about him so much.

  Instinctively, I back up, my lower back grinding against the groove of the table, the bottles, and glasses wobbling from the sudden movement.

  “Wh-what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be…”

  Lucas lets out a resigned sigh. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

  I give him an incredulous look, squinting my eyes and shaking my head. “You’re a glutton for punishment.”

  He laughs loudly, his chest rising and falling from the rumble. “Ah, the student has become the teacher.”

  I whirl back to face the table, gathering the glassware to place them on the tray, lifting it carefully, and brushing past Lucas on my way back to the bar.

  “I’m working, Lucas. And you shouldn’t be here.”

  I don’t dare glance back but know he’s following me, keeping up with my near sprint back to the safety behind the bar.

  “A guy can’t come into a public establishment for a drink?” He quirks a brow innocently.

  Grumbling under my breath, I ditch the bottles in the recycle bin and gently drop the glasses into the tub to be cleaned.

  “I’m sure there are other bars near your home you can frequent.”

  He makes a look as if he’s absorbing this information. “Perhaps, but I like the atmosphere of this one. Plus, it’s Margarita Madness night and I love tequila.”

  I snort. “Yes, I do remember that.”

  This is in reference to our one-night stand, where Lucas switched from his martini to pounding back shots of top shelf tequila with me before he topped me.

  I groan at the memory. Not because it wasn’t hot, but because it only makes me want what neither of us can have.

  Grabbing the bottle of Don Julio, I pull out a margarita glass, placing it upside down into the dish, and dip it into the salt, getting the rim nicely garnished. Then I grab the bottle of Triple Sec, pour it in the blender, followed by the tequila, and turn it on until blended before pouring it into the glass along with a slice of lime. I place it out in front of Lucas on the bar, the liquid splashing a bit on my finger.

  I pull my hand away and lick the tip, as Lucas’s eyes track from the glass to me, arching a brow.

  “Thank you. Where’s yours?”

  “I’m working,” I retort, gripping the bottleneck in my hand. “Can’t drink on the job.”

  Lucas laughs huskily. “Funny, but I seem to remember quite a bit of drinking the last time I was at this bar.”

  I pour a beer from the tap into a tall schooner and head off toward Donnie’s table, feeling Lucas’s eyes on my backside the entire time. When I
return, his drink is still untouched.

  “Something wrong with the drink?”

  “Yeah, I don’t like drinking alone.”

  I gesture widely with my hand. “You’re not alone. There’s plenty of others in here. And I’m sure you could find someone without even batting an eyelash.”

  Busying myself, I wipe down the bar top where I spilled the drink, caught off guard when Lucas’s hand catches my wrist, halting my movement.

  “Kyler. I don’t want to drink with anyone else. It’s your company I need.”

  What is a guy supposed to say to that? Especially a horny guy like me?

  I wasn’t made to withstand the pleas of a man like Lucas Mathiasson. I’m not strong enough and honestly too stupid to say anything but yes.

  “Fine,” I grouse, fixing another drink for myself. “Just one drink and that’s it.”

  The audacity of Lucas when he laughs at this statement!

  “Where have I heard that before?”

  Exactly. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.

  15

  Lucas

  I knew I was fucked the minute my meeting was over and instead of going home, I left campus and my car somehow drove itself to Cactus Pete’s bar.

  And now I’m two margaritas in, feeling the delicious effects the booze has on my now loose and buzzed limbs, and I can’t help but laugh at a joke Kyler is telling his co-worker, Roarke, on the other side of the bar from where I’m perched.

  “And then the guy drops his pants, puts his head between his legs, quacks loudly and yells, ‘butt quack!’”

  I nearly fall off my chair over the absurdity of the joke. Maybe it’s the booze, or maybe it’s just Kyler, but I can’t help myself at the dizzying effects it’s having on my mood. Not to mention my libido.