Confessions of a Bad Boy Professor

by Cathryn Fox

  LAYLA

  Six years ago:

  * * *

  Dad’s pool party is in full swing by the time I step into the backyard, in search of free alcohol for myself—and my friends, who are eagerly waiting inside. Hey, why shouldn’t I sneak a few bottles, right? It’s summer vacation. I just worked an insane double shift at the mall food court, and I wouldn’t mind a cold drink to wind down after a long-ass day with no breaks because my co-worker called in sick. Sick, my ass. I heard she hooked up with a couple guys and went to the beach.

  Scorching sunshine beats down on me as I glance around the deck, which is dotted with loud, obnoxious people. I take in the hedonistic atmosphere and skimpy bathing suits as stiff drinks are downed in record time. I shake my head in disgust. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only adult in the house. Yes, I know Mom and Dad had me when they were too young, lost great scholarships because of it—something my mother always likes to point out—but still, they’re supposed to be the grown ups in this relationship, yet again and again, they prove they’re not.

  I search out my mom, and my heart squeezes when I find her sitting on the edge of the pool. Cheeks pink from the sun, not to mention too much alcohol, she looks lost in thought as she runs a hand through her wet hair, and kicks her legs in the water. I grab the lotion and head straight for her.

  I go down on my knees. “Mom,” I say, and touch her shoulder gently, not wanting to alarm her. “You might want to get out of the sun.”

  She waves her hand at me like I’m nothing but a nuisance fly. “What are you doing here?”

  My heart sinks into my stomach at her dismissive, angry tone. “I just got home from work.” I hand her the lotion and she glares at it like I’ve just given her a store-bought enema kit.

  “If you want to make yourself useful, grab me another drink.” She shakes her glass at me, and the melting ice clicks on the bottom. As the sound grates on my last nerve, I want to tell her she’s had enough, but it will only lead to a fight. I take the glass and shut my mouth, making a mental note to leave Tylenol and water by her bed the way I always do when she’s on a bender, which is pretty much every weekend, and then some.

  As I make my way to the outdoor bar, I let my gaze rake over the crowd a second time. Most of the male cops Dad work with are either falling over themselves drunk, or hitting on someone else’s wife.

  Pigs.

  Every last one of them.

  Well except for Jack Michaels, Dad’s partner and best friend. I’ve known Jack forever and have yet to see him get out of control like the others. In fact, he’s always rigid, reserved, scanning the room for trouble. A predator in search of his prey. God, I want to be the deer in his headlights. A fine shiver moves through my body, hitting every hot button along the way to the needy spot between my legs. Yeah, that’s right. I have it bad for my Dad’s best friend.

  I pour my mom’s drink, making it extra watery, and set it on the bar top. I bend, and Jack’s gaze lands on me the second I snatch a couple of coolers from the bucket, and casually slide them into my backpack. I give him a small grin, and put the bag over my shoulder—a dare of sorts. He pushes off the table he’d been leaning against and folds big arms over a broad chest—a bare broad chest that my fingers itch to explore—his piercing gaze stealing the breath from my lungs.

  Jeez, he is so freaking good looking, so rough around the edges, it makes me all jittery inside. He’s taller than every other guy at the precinct, and has an athletic, rock-hard body that any criminal would be a fool to challenge. But I want to challenge him. Oh yeah, just once I want to push him until he loses that hard-earned control and acts on the heat between us. The sexual tension is off the charts, so powerful and volatile I can’t believe the other adults can’t feel it. Then again, maybe they can. Maybe they all know how we feel about each other, but don’t much care because Jack is a good man, and a good cop, who wouldn’t do anything illegal.

  But I won’t always be seventeen.

  My body warms as his gaze rakes over me, his brilliant blue eyes holding me in place, keeping me captive. I stare back, and hold my own against him like I always do as he closes the distance between us. He stands over me, crowds me, and I toy with the button on my blouse, another little thing I do to tease him. I know it works because his gaze drops to my fingers, the muscles along his jaw rippling as he clenches his teeth hard. He dips his head, his mouth so close to mine, it’s all I can do not to go up on my toes and press my lips to his. Instead, I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip, leaving a streak of moisture that invites him in for a taste.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks.

  Poking the bear?

  Then again, maybe he’s talking about the alcohol, and not my sexual teasing. But I can’t help myself around him. From the second I hit puberty a few years ago, I’ve wanted Jack in my arms and in my bed. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve laid between the sheets, running my hands over my body, and pretending they were his. There’s sixteen years difference between us, but I’m a minor until next month, so those years might as well be a chasm. As soon as I turn eighteen and move into my dorm room at University of Texas at San Antonio—a college close to home so I can keep an eye on my mom—I don’t think the gap will come into play at all. Then again, this is Dad’s best friend, and if I want him in my bed, I’m going to have to do more than play with the button on my shirt.

  “It’s just a couple of coolers,” I say to him. “My friends and I are going to sip them and watch a movie inside.”

  His nostrils flare and his gaze drops to my mouth again, fixates on it. “You’re too young to drink.”

  “Are you going to tell on me?” I ask, and coil my hair around my finger, playing the innocent. The truth is I am innocent. Sure, I’ve made out with guys, but I’m saving myself for Jack. Not that it’s hard to say no to the fumbling idiots my age. But for my first time, I want a real man to take me. A man who knows his way around a woman’s body, not some stupid jock who hits the finish line a second after the gun goes off.

  I don’t know this firsthand, of course, but my best friend Luanne isn’t saving herself for anyone. She sleeps with a different guy every weekend and is well aware of my obsession with Jack. While she thinks I should get a few fucks under my belt so I’ll know how to please a guy like him once I finally get him into my bed, I disagree. I want him to be my first, and I have a feeling that once I give him my virginity, it will bring us closer, and keep us together.

  Patience…that’s all I need.

  “I’m no snitch,” he says.

  “I never thought you were, but if you’re so worried about me having a few drinks, maybe you’d like to discipline me yourself.”

  “Layla...” he murmurs, his jaw doing that clenching and unclenching thing again.

  “I suppose you could always put me over your knee and give me a good hard spanking for my disobedience.”

  “Fuck,” he murmurs, and ignoring his no touch rule, his hand moves, his knuckles brushing against mine and sending heat straight to my sex. It moistens and clenches, aching for his attention, something hard to grip on to. His big, broad frame is blocking mine and no one can see us. I step closer, push my body against his and feel his huge cock swelling in his swim trunks.

  It thrills me and urges me on. I move against him and he puts his hands on my shoulders to stop me. “We can’t,” he says through gritted teeth. “We’ve been over this.”

  “I know,” I say. “But when we can, it’s going to be amazing.”

  “Layla,” he grumbles and steps back from me. The bottles in my backpack clink and he looks over his shoulder, then back at me. “No driving?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You know alcohol impairs—”

  “Jack,” I begin and put my hand on his chest. He sucks in a sharp breath, and every muscle in his body goes rigid as I splay my fingers. I resist the urge to glance down, to see that other muscle that always grows hard from my touch.

 
; “No touching,” he says, but his voice belies his actions as he takes as small step toward me, giving me better access to his body.

  I keep my palm on his body and say, “Don’t you trust me?”

  “I don’t trust the guys you’re hanging with, Layla,” he says and looks over my head.

  “Liam and Caleb?” I shrug and wave a dismissive hand. “Those guys are innocent.”

  Jack dips his head again, and scoffs. “Are you forgetting I was once a seventeen year old boy? I don’t want you to find yourself in a situation that you can’t get out of.”

  “That’s not going to happen as long as I have you watching over me.” I smile sweetly and say, “Now is it, Jack?”

  “What about when I’m not watching?” he asks.

  I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip again and remove my hand from his chest. I instantly miss his warmth, but console myself with the fact that someday we’ll be together and can touch each other at whim.

  “But you’re always watching, Jack.” I hand him mom’s drink to deliver, and spin around. I give an extra shake to my backside as I saunter into the house. I shut the patio door behind me, but I feel his eyes on me, burning through my clothes and caressing my naked body.

  “Did you get it?” Caleb asks and practically rips my backpack from my shoulder.

  “I grabbed a few coolers.”

  Liam unravels himself from Luanne and rushes toward us to help Caleb tear through the backpack. “Come on, man. What about the harder stuff?” he asks.

  “I couldn’t.” I shrug innocently. “One of my Dad’s friends caught me. I’m lucky I got away with the few bottles I was able to snag. For a minute there I thought he was going to put me over his knee and spank me.” I slide my gaze to Luanne, and she grins, knowing exactly who I’m talking about, and just how much I’d love to be put over his knee and disciplined.

  “Fucking girly drinks,” Caleb says as he pulls the vodka coolers out and tosses one to Liam.

  “I’ll try to get more later,” I say. “Soon enough they’ll all be drunk and won’t even know we’re in the house.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” Liam says as he makes a crude ‘fucking’ gesture, thrusting his hips back and forth as he gazes at Luanne. Charming.

  “I always know you’re in the room,” Caleb says, his voice lower, full of heat as he grabs me. He pulls me to him and his cock presses against my stomach. Heat sizzles through me, but it’s not from Caleb. Nope, not from Caleb at all. I angle my head, catch Jack watching us. I should push Caleb away. I want Jack to know I’m his and his alone, but it’s so hard waiting. Instead of shoving the slimeball asshole off me, I put my hands on his chest and laugh. I can feel Jack’s rage through the glass patio doors. I shouldn’t poke him so hard, but when it comes time for him to take me, I don’t want him holding back an inch. I want him to let his guard down, to use and abuse my body the way he needs. The way we both need.

  “Caleb, you’re such a pig,” I say, then break from the circle of his arms. “Find us something to watch. I need to shower. Some of us do work during the day, you know.”

  “Need any help up there?” Caleb asks, ignoring my jibe about him lounging all summer while the rest of us work to pay for college. He comes from money, I don’t. Even if I did, I doubt my parents would help me. They didn’t want me in the first place. Guilt for being alive and interfering with their hopes and dreams tangles in my gut. Both my mom and dad planned to become lawyers, but instead my mom now works retail and my dad became a cop. They make a descent living, but constantly remind me they could have done better, had they not made a ‘mistake’ with me.

  Not wanting to think about the disappointment my life has brought them, I say, “I think I know how to get all those hard to reach places myself. I’ve been touching them myself for quite some time.”

  “If you tease me like that, you’re going to get what you deserve.” There is a warning edge to his voice, and it actually makes me a bit nervous as I bolt up the stairs. I really don’t know Caleb that well. I only started hanging out with him a few weeks ago when Luanne hooked up with his best friend, Liam.

  I strip off the god-awful brown uniform I have to wear in the food court, drop my phone onto the counter and turn the water on hot. I open the sliding glass door and stand under the spray. As it pours over my naked body, I exhale a soft breath and grab my favorite vanilla-scented soap to lather up. My hands skim my body and the whole time I picture Jack in the shower with me, his mouth all over me, between my needy legs, licking and sucking and taking what’s his. I continue to pleasure myself, my mind on an erotic journey as bubbles form in my hands. A soft moan escapes my throat, my clit so swollen I’m only seconds away from an orgasm.

  “Is that moan for me?” I hear from the other side of the glass shower door, and gasp when I turn to see Caleb standing in the bathroom.

  “Get out of here,” I say, and cover my body with my hands.

  “You know you don’t want that. Let me come in there with you, show you how good I can make you feel.”

  “I’ll scream.”

  He laughs. “Everyone is shit-faced drunk.” He pops the button on his pants, and panic explodes inside me. “Go ahead and scream. No one’s going to hear you.”

  “I’ll hear her.”

  At the sound of Jack’s voice, my heart jumps into my throat. Through the steam, I see Jack’s big outline as he steps into the room and stands over Caleb. God, he’s so huge and intimidating, if I didn’t know him, I’d be shaking in my boots.

  “Hey come on. She invited me.”

  Jack looks at me, and even through the mist, his eyes are piercing and deadly as they meet mine. “Is that true?”

  “No,” I say without hesitation, my pulse pounding so hard in my neck the room grows fuzzy.

  Guard up, jaw tight, Jack turns his focus back to Caleb. Caleb snorts and says, “I’m a minor. Lay one hand on me and you’ll be in a shitload of trouble, pal.”

  I’ve never seen Jack wound so tight. His gaze is focused, targeted, with Caleb smack-dab in the crosshairs. “Lay one hand on her and same goes for you, pal.”

  Caleb stands there for a moment, sizing up his opponent like he’s actually thinking about taking him on. The guy clearly isn’t too bright. Then, as if deciding it’s a suicide mission, he backs down, and lowers his gaze. “Fine. I’m fucking leaving. No piece of ass is worth the trouble.”

  Jack’s eyes narrow in anger, and his fingers curl into fists like something has been unleashed inside him. I don’t think he’s going to attack Caleb—as much as he looks like he wants to. The fight wouldn’t be fair, and if there is one thing I know about Jack, he’s a just and ethical man—a real rule follower. He’s a man of his word, and when he makes a promise, he sticks to it.

  “Don’t go near her again. Ever,” he seethes. “I’ll be watching and if you do, I won’t let you walk away in one piece next time.”

  Jack turns to the side to let Caleb pass. Caleb looks like he’s about to pee his pants, but once he clears Jack, he seems to gather an ounce of bravado, and shoots back with, “What is she to you anyway?”

  I slide the humid glass panel open, and steam billows into the room. Jack has his back to me—clearly glaring at Caleb—but I’m sure I heard him say, “Everything,” under his breath as Caleb rushes down the stairs.

  “Thanks, Jack,” I say and fight off a tremble. I hate to think what could have happened if he hadn’t shown up. “I guess you were right about him.”

  His body is rigid, his back hard, and I wish I could wrap my arms around him, hold him tight and help loosen him up a bit. “I’m right about a lot of things,” he murmurs.

  “I know,” I say in total agreement. I trust Jack, trust and take everything he says to heart.

  “I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.”

  I grab a towel off the hook and wrap myself in it. “You can turn around. I’m covered.”

  He turns, and takes in the big fluffy towel as I
knot it over my breasts. I draw in a slow breath, everything about this man seducing my senses.

  “Where’s your phone?” He scrubs his face like he’s in total agony. I gesture to the bathroom counter. He picks it up and swipes a big finger over the screen. God, how I want those fingers on my body, deep between my legs. My clit throbs and I squeeze my thighs together, desperate for an orgasm.

  “I’m punching my number in.” Rich, intense eyes lock on mine as he breathes in, the scent of my vanilla soap strong in the room. “If you ever find yourself in trouble and need anything, don’t hesitate to call. If you’re in a situation where you can’t call, text with the word ‘vanilla.’ It will be inconspicuous to others, but I’ll know you need me.”

  My heart thumps at how sweet he is. “You’re giving me a safe word?”

  He angles his head, gives me a dark, warning look that I totally recognize. He hates the thought of me with anyone else, as much as I hate the thought of him with some other woman.

  “What do you know about safe words, Layla?”

  I grin. “Oh, not much. Just what I’ve read. But when I’m with you, you can bet you’ll never hear the word vanilla come out of my mouth,” I say. His turbulent gaze alerts me to the fact that he gets the meaning behind my words—when it comes to him, vanilla is the last thing I want. I look him over; the need to hand myself to him, let him take charge of my body is so intense it’s almost painful. I put my palm on his bare chest, feel the strength of his heartbeat beneath my fingers.

  “You don’t need to say it, just text it when you need something,” he says.

  “There is something I need, Jack.”

  “What…what do you need?” he asks, his eyes half closed, like he’s in total agony. God, he’s so intense, so unlike the boring guys from my school.

  “I need you.” His lids flash open and I give him a small smile as I shake my wet hair out. It falls over my back, and my breath comes out in a low hush when I say, “But you already know that.”

  Desire clouds his eyes. “You can’t have me.”