Unprofessional Bad Boys - Boxed Set (Contemporary Romance)

by Clarissa Wild

  “Last one.” I smirk.

  She squeals. “Where’d you guys meet?”

  “Just a club …”

  “Why didn’t you bring me? Maybe he could’ve introduced me to some of his friends.”

  “We were both alone.”

  “So he was on the lookout for a chick to bang. I get it. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “We just wanted to fuck. End of story.”

  “Except it was your first time. Well done, girl.” She kisses me on the cheek. “Feel any different?”

  “No, not really. I thought I would … but I don’t.”

  “Heh, that’s what we all think. Just revel in the fact that your banging was awesome. Not all of us are so lucky.” She jiggles Mr. Pink back and forth again. “Right, Mr. Pinky-Dink?”

  “Oh, fuck off.” I snatch the vibrator from her hand and throw it backward onto my bed. “Let’s just fucking go and get this first day of second semester over with.”

  “Fine, fine, but after class, can we look him up on Facebook? Please?” she begs.

  “No. Besides, I don’t know anything about him. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “Fuck. Such a shame if he was that good.”

  “I have nothing to compare it with, but what I can tell you is that he was much better than any of the boys who ever tried to touch me there. Or anywhere, for that matter.”

  “Well, good; you seemed like you needed it, from the number of batteries you’ve wasted on Mr. Pinky-Wink.” She pokes me in the side and grins. “Now, let’s go troll some classes.”

  Minutes later

  We shuffle into class behind all the other students and sit down on two seats at the end of the second to the last row. The class is noisy—a lot of students chatting and some even throwing stuff around.

  “Jesus, they’re so loud,” Lesley shouts.

  “I know, right?” I yell back.

  “I wonder where the teacher is.” She stands up and looks around, gaping at all the doors, but only students seem to pour in.

  Then a girl sitting a few rows in front of us draws her attention. “Layla!” She waves and the girl gets up to shout back.

  I start unpacking my books while Lesley continues to shout back and forth with the girl. I won’t butt in since I don’t know Layla. Besides, I like being in my own little bubble from time to time.

  Suddenly, the door slams and a draft of air swooshes through as a man in a suit passes my seat. I look up as he saunters down the steps, the room growing quiet with his arrival.

  Lesley sits down as the man apparently has the ability to silence every student in the room just with his presence. She pokes me in the side with her elbow and nods at him. “Nice ass,” she whispers to me. “For a teacher.”

  I grin and shake my head.

  The man sets his briefcase down next to the table in the middle of the room and walks to the whiteboard. He picks up a marker and starts writing. I can literally hear the swipes. It’s that quiet as he writes down the name of his class.

  Hospitality & Marketing Basics

  Meanwhile, the class has become a little noisy with whispers, and I catch some from the seats above.

  “He’s the new professor, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he looks so handsome!” someone whispers.

  “He can hear you,” another one says.

  The man suddenly slams his marker back on the board, making me jolt in my seat.

  The room is completely quiet again.

  That’s when he turns around. “Welcome to class, everyone. My name is Thomas Hard, and I’ll be teaching you how to market your business or product, and how to keep your customers very, very happy.”

  My classmates are giggling at his name, but I can’t.

  I’m nailed to my seat, frozen, as I stare at the man in front of me.

  That man …

  Sexy as fuck. Hair short, slick, with just the right amount of edge. Scruffy jaw, cut to perfection. Plump, lickable lips shaped in a small but tempting smile.

  Buffed, but not too buff, and all suited up.

  Completely different from what I remember.

  I suck in a breath as his eyes go around the class. I can’t look away, even though I want to. Desperately. Especially when his navy-blue eyes lock with mine.

  Fuck no.

  I scramble my books together and shove them back in my bag, leaving a few pens behind as I jump up from my seat.

  “Where are you going?” Lesley asks.

  “I gotta go.”

  I rush up the steps, and the students I pass suddenly look at me instead of him, but I don’t care. I storm out the door without looking back. I can’t, even if I wanted to.

  I run away as far as I can until I’m alone in a hallway, where I prop myself up against a pillar and drop my bag on the floor. My heart is racing. My eyes are closed.

  I can’t unsee what I just saw.

  That man … it’s him.

  The man I had sex with last night is my teacher.

  Chapter 3

  Hailey

  I go into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. God, I look like a fucking mess.

  I turn on the faucet and stick my hands under the water. They’re shaking. I quickly splash my face with the cold water, hoping it’ll rinse away the shame.

  It doesn’t.

  It’s almost as if it’s visible on my face. Like you could literally walk up to me without knowing me and say, ‘Hey, you’re that girl who slept with her professor without knowing it, aren’t you?’

  I’m now that girl.

  That girl who not only spent her first fuck on a man she never met … but did it with her professor.

  That girl who royally fucked up.

  Fucking hell.

  I slap myself in the face and murmur, “Get a hold of yourself, Hailey.”

  I don’t know why, but it helps.

  No one knows we did it. Lesley knows I fucked some random dude, but she doesn’t know it was him. But fuck, I hope none of this gets out because that would mean the end of my staying-low-at-school style.

  Yes, I might be the red-haired girl, the nose-piercing girl, the vibrator-under-the-bed girl, the girl who loves ice cream and rock music, who likes glitter, unicorns, and rainbows and black all together, the girl who’s a mess and a mesh of all things both disgusting and fancy.

  But I like who I am, and I like my privacy. So I need to make sure I keep my shit private.

  Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I storm outside. I find a nice spot near a tree and take a packet of cigarettes from my pocket. I light one up and take a much-needed smoke break. Then I put my earbuds in and listen to “Kitty Hawk” by Ki: Theory.

  I stay here for a good half an hour, enjoying a bottle of orange juice while reading a magazine. I know, corny, but I have to do something to take my mind off the whole thing, and I know going back to my dorm room won’t help.

  I hear shuffling behind me in the sand, and when I turn my head, someone shouts in my face.

  “Where the fuck did you go?” Lesley asks.

  “Here,” I say, smiling like an idiot.

  She smacks me on the head with an empty bottle of water. “Asshole. You left me in there. Alone.”

  “You have plenty of friends.”

  “So? You’re my best friend. You can’t just storm out. We were in the middle of class.”

  I shrug. “I felt sick, so I went to the bathroom,” I lie.

  Best friend.

  What does that mean when I lie to her face?

  I don’t even know anymore. We used to be so close, since way back when we met on the first day of college. If I knew then that I’d be lying to her face, I’d have punched myself. But I can’t exactly tell her the truth either. What I did with Thomas was a big fat no-no. I can’t tell anyone. Not even her.

  I don’t want her to know. Yet. Maybe not ever. I don’t know.

  This isn’t just something you tell someone while you’re cas
ually sitting under a tree.

  “And what the fuck is that?” She snatches the magazine from my hand. “Playboy?”

  “Found it in the trash.”

  “Trash? You’re outta your mind.” She throws it back at me.

  “What? I just needed some distraction. It wasn’t covered in filth or anything … except on the inside.” I grin.

  “You’re a lunatic,” she says, sitting down beside me.

  “And proud of it.”

  “So you ran out because you needed to puke? I don’t believe it. You never get sick on the first day. You’re never nervous.”

  “Today, I was. I can’t help it. Can we just talk about something else?”

  “As long as you promise me this isn’t because of your mom.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Are you sure?” She places a hand on my shoulder. “Because you know you can tell me everything, right?”

  “Yeah … No, it’s not my mom. I promise.”

  “Okay. So you left class because you were sick. Were you too embarrassed to come back?”

  I look at her, nodding. “Yeah.”

  “I get it. Everyone was looking at you when you rushed out.”

  I groan, palming my face. “Please don’t remind me.”

  She laughs a bit. “It’s okay. No one will remember. They all only had eyes for the teacher. He’s freakishly hot.”

  “Tell me about it …” I say, choking up a little at the thought of seeing him again.

  “Just as long as you don’t leave me in there again. We’re best friends. Best friends stick together.” She rubs me and then gets up again. “Wanna get a Blizzard at Dairy Queen?”

  “Fuck, yes,” I say, as I get up from the ground and brush the dirt off. “No fucking sickness can stop me from licking that ice cream.”

  She grins. “Nothing stops you from licking ice cream. I’ve seen you lick it off some guy’s abs at a party. You’d do pretty much anything for it.”

  “Damn right, I would. And who cares about abs anyway? I just wanted the ice cream.”

  She holds up her hand. “High five!” And I slap hers. “Now, let’s go get some ice cream.”

  That same night

  Hours later, Lesley drags me to a club, but when I see where she’s taking me, I stop in my tracks.

  “Oh, no … I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Why?” She grabs my hand. “Nothing’s wrong with this place.”

  “I know. I’m just … Can’t we just go watch a movie or something?”

  She seems flabbergasted, but then she laughs. “Stop joking around. Let’s go have some fun. You obviously need it.”

  I guess that’s what happens when you tell your best friend you got sick from being nervous. Of course, it’s a lie, but she doesn’t know, and she thinks this place will make me relax.

  Unfortunately, it’s the same place I met Mr. Thomas Hard.

  “C’mon, it can’t be that bad,” she says, pulling me along. “I’m here. That’s more than you need to have fun.” She playfully sticks out her tongue as she drags me through the doors.

  “Fine,” I mumble as she gives me a stern look.

  “Yay! I’m buying,” she cheers, as we walk to the bar. “Two tequilas, please.”

  “Aren’t you two a bit too young for this place?” The bartender narrows his eyes.

  With a smug smile, Lesley pulls out her ID and shows it to him. With suspicion, he checks it but doesn’t say a word.

  Lesley purses her lips. “I’m the good kind of young. The legal-but-still-smoking-hot kind of young.”

  “And her?” The bartender looks at me now.

  Lesley eyes me. “C’mon, Hailey, show him.” She winks.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out my card. He inspects it thoroughly, almost as if he sees something.

  “All right. Two tequilas coming up.” He walks off, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Lesley leans sideways. “I told you it would work,” she whispers. “These cards are magic!”

  “I’m so glad I didn’t need it last time,” I whisper. “And I’m sure as hell glad he didn’t notice they were fake. But what if we get caught next time?”

  “We won’t,” she says. “Not when you’ve got these lips and these eyes to lie our way through it.” She points at her own face, then her tits. “I mean, who can resist this?”

  I laugh a little. “Big head much?”

  “Not at all, actually,” she muses, shrugging.

  I shove her, and she almost falls off her stool. “Whoa!”

  “Sorry,” I say, still laughing. “No, I’m not.”

  “Of course, you aren’t. Be careful, or I’mma hook you up with the nearest old guy.”

  “Please don’t,” I say, making a face. “I’ve had enough of men for a while.”

  “Oh, so he was old?” she says, narrowing her eyes.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I can see when you’re lying, Hailey,” she says, smirking. “But he probably wasn’t that old. Fifty. Forty? Thirty?” When my eye twitches, she says, “AH-HA!”

  “Here are your drinks,” the bartender interrupts, placing two glasses in front of us.

  I quickly pick it up and take a sip.

  “So he’s a thirty-something hot guy.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I say, coughing because the drink burns my throat.

  “You don’t need to. I can read your face like a book.”

  I raise my brow. “Do I look like a Harlequin romance?”

  She picks up her tequila. “No, more like a Fifty Shades of Grey.”

  My eyes widen.

  “Oh, god.” She almost spits out her drink but manages to swallow it, then slams her glass down. “You’re kidding. It is? He was like Grey? Did he spank you? Tie you up?”

  “Shhhh!” I say.

  “What? It’s not like anyone can hear us with this music blasting through the speakers,” she says. “C’mon, I wanna know. Give me the good stuff. My own sex life sucks.”

  “Like mine is so great. I only did it with one guy.”

  “Yeah, but he was smoking hot, and you guys did kinky stuff, didn’t you? I mean, that’s definitely worth talking about and swooning over.” She sucks on her lip. “C’mon, Hailey, I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”

  “You promise?” I lower my eyes.

  “Pinky swear on my current non-existent sex life.” She holds up her pinky and shakes mine.

  “Fine, yes, he was in his thirties, and the sex was straight up kinky.”

  She squeals. Too late do I cover her mouth with my hand. “Stop yelling!”

  “I can’t. It’s too fucking cool. Like you literally went from zero to a hundred in terms of sex.”

  “I know, but just keep it between us, okay?”

  “I promise, but you gotta stop feeling ashamed.” She places her hand on my upper arm. “There’s nothing wrong with having sex, and there’s nothing wrong with talking about it.” She smiles. “So … what did he do?”

  I grab my tequila and take another sip as she hangs on my lips. “Well, he kind of tied me up… and spanked me.”

  “Both? Oh, my god.” She fans herself, grabbing her tequila. “I definitely need this drink now.”

  “Okay, enough about him. How was class? Did I miss anything?”

  “Miss anything? Well, apart from his cute booty … no, I don’t think so.”

  I sigh out loud and shake my head. “You didn’t pay attention, did you? You just stared at his ass.”

  “What?” She shrugs. “I can’t help it. If there’s good ass, I need to study it. They should give me points for that. In fact, an entire class should be dedicated to judging butts all day long. I’d fucking ace it.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, that’s enough tequila for you, Les.” I try to take away her glass, but she isn’t having it.

  “No, I think I’ll have another one.”

  “Let’s just dance,” I say.

  She pulls the glass
back so hard, the contents spill over and onto her shirt. “Ugh! Look at this. Now, I’m all wet.”

  “That’s probably the first time in weeks,” I muse, and she gasps, then slaps my arm.

  “Not funny, bitch. And for the record, I had sex”—she clears her throat—“last week.” She pulls my arm and drags me off my stool. “C’mon, we’re going to the toilet, and you’re gonna help me clean up.”

  We go into the bathroom, where I grab a few pieces of toilet paper, and she pulls off her shirt. “No one here anyway,” she says as she holds her shirt above the sink and squeezes out the liquid.

  “Here.” I hand her the toilet paper. “I don’t have anything else.”

  “This is fine,” she says, dabbing them into the wet spots. “It’ll have to do.” When she’s done, she says, “Can you wait a minute? I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Sure.”

  I stay near the sink, while she goes into a stall.

  And then I literally hear the biggest fart in the entire fucking world.

  “What the fuck,” I mumble.

  “Sorry.” She giggles out loud, and another fart comes out. “Fuck, I think this is gonna be a smelly one.”

  “Okay, I’m gonna wait outside,” I say, laughing my ass off.

  “I’m dying!” I hear a painful moan and then another fart, which is my cue to go.

  As I walk out, I take out my cell phone to check the time, but when I put it back in my pocket, I bump into someone.

  “Shit, sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  Fuck.

  That.

  Voice.

  It’s as if fate is sticking its middle finger in my face right now.

  This can’t happen twice, can it?

  Yes, it fucking can, because he is standing in front of me. Again.

  Thomas fucking Hard.

  Boy, is he hard to avoid.

  Chapter 4

  Thomas

  Of all the people I run in to … this girl shows up?

  I never expected to see her again in this joint … let alone in my classroom.