by Claire Adams
I pushed the door open slowly in hope that maybe I could sneak in without anyone noticing, but stopped short when silence filled the entire classroom. Several pairs of eyes landed on me as I slipped inside. My cheeks filled with heat under everyone’s stares.
I looked away to look for the professor sitting at the front of the classroom, and my mouth went immediately dry when I caught sight of him sitting casually on the desktop, strong legs crossed. Every inch of him seemed to bulge through his white button up shirt and navy blue blazer. His dark hair was styled messily, and I briefly wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers through it. His eyes, a light cerulean blue, sparkled in a mixture of amusement and something else that I couldn’t quite decipher.
Noah Webber had been the person that I bumped into yesterday at the coffee shop, I realized with a wildly beating heart. That musky cologne he wore had haunted me all day for some unknown reason. Or maybe it was the way he looked at me with such intensity that it gave the impression he could read minds.
Either way, I was screwed now that I had a gorgeous professor. Bailey would have a field day knowing how sinfully attractive he looked.
A smile tugged at Noah’s lips.
“Ah, we have a late bird for class today. What’s your name?”
I swallowed down the bulge in my throat. “Iris Paige.”
He glanced down at the clipboard in his lap. “You missed syllabus,” he commented, checking something off next to what I assumed was my name. “And, you’re now seven minutes late to class. Not a good example as graduating senior for all the freshman in here.”
The coy insult slithered underneath my skin deeper than I wanted it to. Fuck his model-like appearance and wonderful cologne. I didn’t want to deal with another jerk as a professor.
“I’m even later because of you giving me a hard time over missing one day,” I replied tightly.
Muffled snickers filled the classroom. His gaze pierced right through me, but I refused to back down from it. I needed this class to graduate, but I refused to be bullied and humiliated in front of a group of baby-faced freshman.
Something flashed in Noah’s eyes. “Sit down, Ms. Paige,” he said, coolly. “We run on my time in this classroom. Not on your time. Care to explain to the class why a senior missed an important first day?”
I gritted my teeth as I slowly walked across the creaking wooden floorboards. I took a seat in the second row next to a girl with a mess of curly black hair and pimples on her face. She gave me a nervous look and scooted away not so subtly. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the movement.
“I didn’t think it was a big deal for me as a senior,” I said, more boldly than I felt. My heart wanted to thump its way out of my ribcage. “I’ve been to several of them over the past four years. They all are the same.”
The smile on his face widened even more. He swept a gaze over the entire classroom then.
“Confidence is key to doing good in anything,” Noah said. “As Ms. Paige demonstrated so nicely for us, it can be too much at times. Balance between following the rules and confidence is huge when it comes to the college experience.”
I bit my lower lip when his gaze returned to me and made a show of pulling out the assigned textbooks. Tears burned in the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them go. Bailey had warned me that he would make an example of me for missing class on Wednesday, but he didn’t have to be such a dick over it.
I was a good student. The only class I ever failed had been this class, and none of it had honestly been my fault at the time. I waited with my pen poised on a notepad while I felt his gaze burn into me before he finally started to talk. I took in the syllabus while he talked about our first assignment to write a response to the first couple chapters of William Faulkner’s Light in August.
The next hour ticked by slowly. A headache was pounding in my head by the time Noah acknowledged that time was over and let us go. I shoved my book and notepad back into my bag. Ten steps away from the door, I heard Noah call my name out before I could escape the stifling classroom that smelled of wet carpet.
“Ms. Paige,” he said. “Please stay behind for a minute so we can talk about what you missed on Wednesday.”
I approached him with heavy steps and a pounding heart. Even if Noah called me out rather cruelly in front of the classroom, my heart still raced once the classroom door clicked shut behind the last student. That musky scent of cologne filled my nose again.
He slid down from where he had been perched on the desk in front of the dry erase board. He ran a quick gaze over me, but it wasn’t like the previous times. This one was a scolding look.
“I know you won’t appreciate the lecture, but please set an example for the freshman in my class,” he said. “You’re a graduating senior. You know what responsibility is on this campus.”
“I am responsible,” I said, stiffly.
He arched an eyebrow. “Really? You missed an important day in class because you’ve been to it before? That’s a responsible explanation for missing my class?”
I had no idea what he was searching for, so I gave him the one thing that I could think of, even though it pained me to do it.
“Look, I’m sorry. I have bad days and graduation jitters. It won’t happen again. I’m a good student. Ask the other professors here.”
“I will ask around,” he replied, and my jaw fell open at that. “I will also ask why a senior who claims to be as talented as yourself is sitting in a freshman class. Care to explain that to me?”
He stared at me expectantly for an explanation. What was I supposed to say besides the last professor was a complete and cold-hearted jerk about my situation? Sourness filled me, and I looked away from Noah.
“I don’t owe you an explanation for why I failed it,” I said. “Is there anything else you want to talk to me about? Or do you plan on continuing to give me a hard time?”
“I’d like to give you a really hard time,” Noah said.
A shiver went up my spine at the husky timbre in his voice. I snapped myself out of it, aghast for responding to such a simple statement like that.
“Except, I’m running late for my planning period,” he continued. “Be on time for class. Set an example. You’re free to go.”
I wanted to point out how he had no room to talk. I had done my research on Noah Webber’s professional career as a rugby athlete. He was on top of his game. Won several championships. Had women flocking to his bed. And yet he was standing in front of me in a position teaching Freshman English. He had no room to tell me what an example was.
I bit the tip of my tongue to keep quiet and stalked out of the classroom with an irritated sigh. Why did this have to happen to me?
Shitty luck. That was the only plausible explanation for it. I only needed to get through the next couple of months before graduation. I could keep a fake smile plastered on my face until then, even if Noah Webber wanted to set an example of me in front of everyone else.
Exhaustion settled on my shoulders when I stepped out into the snowy morning in the direction of the dining hall. The last thing I wanted to do was go back to my apartment to be pestered by Bailey about how class went.
“It could’ve gone better,” I whispered to myself, tucking my hands into the front pocket of my sweater to keep them warm. “I can do this. I can show up on time. I can resist how sexy he looks…”
I trailed off when warmth flooded through me. Despite his rather dick behavior, it was hard to resist those eyes and fit body that begged for attention.
Noah would gather a lot of attention from the female students. There was no doubt about that, and I actually felt a stab of sympathy for him. Sleeping with students was strictly forbidden. We had been warned freshman year that expulsion was imminent after a student and visiting teacher had slept with one another.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I glanced down at the caller ID with a groan when I realize it was Bailey calling me, no doubt wanting to know how the class went
.
“It went like shit,” I said to myself, hitting the button to silence the call. “He’s sexy, but he’s a dick, and it’s going to suck all semester even if I’m wondering what it’s like to be wrapped up in those arms.”
The thought of being tangled up in Noah’s arms filled me with a rush of heat. I forced that feeling away quickly and focused on the rest of my afternoon. This semester was going to be tough, but I could do it.
I could resist the fantasy of Noah. I wasn’t like the other female students before me who had given into such a temptation. I could – I would stay clear of him.
Chapter Seven
Noah
Iris Paige. I let the name roll around my brain as I stepped out of the classroom to watch her storm off in a huff.
It was pure luck that she had ended up in my class after bumping into her the previous day. She had been getting coffee even after knowingly skipping my class. The thought amused and irritated me at the same time.
My eyes took in her perfectly rounded ass cheeks as she stormed down the hallway. I had no idea if she worked out, but there wasn’t even a layer of fat on her from what I could see from her tight jeans and coffee-colored sweater. At least I had someone to look at who was above the barely legal age.
I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to dig my fingers into that ass. Maybe she’d moan and arch into me.
“Damn.”
I started in surprise to see Kale standing in the doorway of his office, watching Iris slip outside with arched eyebrows. He looked at me in faint amusement. “That’s one hell of a fiery one, huh?”
“No shit,” I replied, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t even know if the word fiery begins to cover it.”
“How old is she?” he asked, curiously. “She doesn’t look like a freshman.”
“She’s not. She’s a graduating senior. I don’t know how she ended up in my Freshman English class.” I made a mental vow to ask a few other professors later in the department if they knew why. Someone like Iris didn’t fall backward in class for no reason. Something must have happened for her to end up in my class, and she sure as hell didn’t plan on sharing the reason why.
That type of stubbornness chipped away at me. I never put my hands on a woman or verbally abused her, but I never tolerated blatant disrespect as Iris had thrown in my face. I had to get at her in a different way, and dangling a passing grade in front of her was the best option. She needed me to graduate whether or not she liked it.
“Want to grab a bite of food down at the grill here?” Kale asked. “I’m starving. I didn’t get to eat breakfast this morning. We have two hours before classes pick up again for the afternoon.”
I debated inwardly on turning Kale down on the offer, but a bite to eat sounded good. I shrugged my shoulders.
“Sure. Let me lock my office up.”
Kale waited patiently while I dropped off my bag, grabbed my wallet, and locked my office behind me. We walked together toward the dining hall with dusty snow swirling around the sidewalks from the cold breeze. We found a quiet spot in the dining hall away from students to eat in peace. I still felt the occasional curious gaze lingering on me.
“Don’t worry,” Kale told me, reading my expression perfectly. “They’ll stop staring at you once you get acclimated to the campus.”
“Why are they all staring at me?” I asked.
He looked down at his tray full of various fruits, coffee, and a large breakfast burrito. He hesitated for a moment. “There’s a pretty good reason why they are. It’s second semester, and now there’s a new professor after what happened.”
I had gotten that sense from the looks that everybody had given me – students and fellow professors alike. Some of them were curious. Many of them were distrustful, such as the other professors who hadn’t even formally introduced themselves to me.
“What did happen?” I asked, food forgotten despite my growling stomach.
“It’s a long story, but I’ll make it short,” Kale said. “I’ve been here for six years. I can’t tell how many changes the dean has done to this school in hopes to get things under control. There is so much talent untapped in some of these female students. I’ll be honest with you, man, it’s hard to look away sometimes.”
A grin tugged at my lips at that honest confession. “I think a majority of them are untapped, anyway,” he continued. “The guy teaching your class before you came here was pretty young and laid back, but he couldn’t handle certain temptations, if you know what I mean.”
I knew what he meant. It took a lot of self-control to fight away that temptation all the time. Especially with Iris Paige in my class. I shook that thought away quickly.
“He took a sip from the unholy grail?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
Kale gave a sharp nod. “Yup,” he said. “Took way too many sips from just one unholy grail last semester. Miles fired him the second he found out and expelled the student, too. No questions even asked – just assumption and rumor.”
“And, I get the feeling this happened a few times before that,” I stated, rubbing the back of my neck with a sigh.
“That’s why everyone is staring at you,” Kale said. “Your position is cursed, to be honest. It’s been filled several times because of the same reason. I keep telling Miles to not hire such damn good-looking men who can’t control themselves. No offense, dude.”
I held up a hand. “None taken. I appreciate you saying something about it. I was starting to get a bit annoyed with all this staring at me like I’m about to be dissected.”
“Well, you are being dissected by everybody around you. Just do yourself a favor and keep your head above water.” Kale paused for a moment. “I know about Jack Miller, by the way. I was trying to get at that the other day.”
I stiffened in surprise to hear that name. I looked up at Kale to see him staring at me with a small smile.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Not that hard to figure out pen names and who the real author is,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders casually. “I’m assuming you’re writing under a pen name for a specific reason, so I never said anything, and won’t, either. I thought maybe Miles had hired you for that reason, but I’m sure he’s just a fan of your rugby days.”
“Thank you,” I said, sighing in relief. “He knows, but I don’t think he’s given it much thought. I don’t want any of that coming out here, given what has happened before me coming to teach.”
“Wouldn’t be a good idea,” Kale agreed, taking a large bite of his breakfast burrito. “So, how does a rugby player become a popular erotic novelist?”
I laughed slightly because it did sound absurd out loud. Even my own father had scratched his head in confusion at it. He always knew that I loved books and to write, but he’d never encouraged me to pursue it. It was always sports that he pushed me into because reading and writing was something that my mother would encourage me to do.
I still had a suspicion that pushing me into rugby was my father’s way of stepping over my mother before she could encourage me to do something else. Their relationship was a constant power struggle, and I ended up in the middle of it all the time.
“I just love to write,” I said, shrugging. “I figured out my freshman year of college that I really loved to write, but I ended up dropping classes to do business and rugby. Everything else took off from there in that department, and I let it go until a year ago when I published my book.”
“Well, it’s good. You’re a sharp writer. Not my taste of fiction, but I was curious to see where my fellow professor’s talents were at.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You’d be surprised to know how much people respond to erotic fiction.”
“And by people, you mean bored housewives wanting a thrill from their usual day-to-day routines,” Kale said, grinning. “I get it, though. Whatever gets your sales going.”
“What about you?” I asked, taking a bite of a sandwich. “An
y published works?”
Kale nodded. “Just poetry,” he said. “A few volumes, but nothing to pay my bills with. It was more for personal pleasure and pride.”
“I understand that completely.”
We finished eating thirty minutes later. Kale waved goodbye to me before heading in the direction of his next class on the other side of campus. I walked back in the direction of the English Department for my next round of freshman students with his words echoing in my head.
I couldn’t shake the strange feeling coiling in my stomach. I was no different than the other professors before me. I’d fallen into temptation far too many times than I’d like to admit to myself.
My right knee ached as it always did whenever it was cold outside when I climbed the concrete steps to the building. A year out from my second ACL tear, my knee never felt right, and it wouldn’t again, according to the doctors.
That was why I had picked up writing again after reading an article on the internet about tapping into a fiction goldmine: erotic fiction. I had earned enough money to go back to school, earn my teaching and English degrees, and then move to Provo.
I needed the extra cash to keep it going forward though. I had blown my money away on women, and the last thing I would ever do was call up my father for a loan. Fuck that. I’d rather live in a cardboard box struggling to make ends meet than hear that bullshit about being responsible and settling down.
My father knew nothing about being responsible. He knew about settling down, but nothing about staying committed. To be fair, neither did my mother. She was just as bad, and their divorce a few years ago didn’t even surprise me. I felt nothing about it.
I blinked away those thoughts when I reached the classroom to find students already seated in their desks. I had other things to concentrate on now. Nobody here on campus was worth losing a good job.
Not even women like Iris Paige, despite how damn attractive and intelligent she appeared to be.