"Nice to meet you," Professor Grant says, shaking my father's hand. "Parker Grant."
My father eyes me and then returns his attention back to the broad shouldered man in front of him. Several seconds of silence pass between us before my father fires off a question at Professor Grant.
"How old are you?"
"Dad," I blurt. What has gotten into the man? My father throws up his hands as if he's just been caught redhanded.
"He's better looking than any of the professors I had in college," he says. "I thought your English professor was old."
Professor Grant laughs. "I'm 39, recently divorced and I have a daughter. Those are probably the stats you're curious to know. I recently took over the class your daughter's in."
I blush at my father's audacity and Professor Grant's candid response. Am I living in an alternate reality? Is this really happening or did I bump my head sometime between this morning and last night.
"Dad, can we stop with the twenty questions," I beg.
My father shoots me a look that says he'll ask as many questions as he pleases and I'm not stopping him.
"I hope my daughter isn't giving you much trouble in class," he continues. Keyword being much. Try all the trouble. Professor Grant grins and I nearly melt at the sight of his smile. It's the complete opposite reaction I thought he would have. Of course, Professor Grant knows trouble is my middle name. I hold my breath waiting to hear his response. Is he going to spill the beans and tell my father how I become a thorn in his side? It was only weeks ago that I was in Professor Grant's office demanding he let me do a rewrite.
Professor Grant glances at me with eyes that practically dance in delight.
"Your daughter is spirited and passionate about her grades," he says stoping for a moment, as if contemplating his next sentence. "She's very much a breath of fresh air."
My father's eye crinkle as he laughs and nods in agreement. "Yes, she definitely has spirit and she gets it from her mother. It's what first drew me to her."
"I'm right here," I interject. "You don't have to talk over me."
"Maybe a little bit from me," my father laughs, rustling my hair like I'm five years old again. I roll my eyes, trying to bury my embarrassment.
"My daughter, Olivia, is the same. She has a bit of my ex-wife's spirit."
Surprise hits me at the mention of Scarlett, a subject he's never mentioned around me but which I know all too well about - the internet is to blame for that one.
Professor Grant catches me staring at him and his smirk reappears. As if sensing the tension between us, my father shifts his focus back to me.
"Parker why don't you join us today? We would love your company" my father says, gesturing to the boat behind us. "Kitty, my wife, would appreciate another man around to keep me company. I gulp at the idea of having to spend an entire afternoon on a yacht, trying to ignore Professor Grant. After several seconds of silence, I look up to see his gaze trained on me. Before I can stop myself, I'm stringing a half-baked sentence together.
"Dad, Professor Grant probably has better things to do with his day. You know, like grade papers and stuff." Lame. My excuse is so lame.
A scowl crosses his face, but it quickly vanishes before my father takes notice. "Actually, I would love to join you," he says, accepting my father's invitation. Before I know it, the impossible is happening as he shakes my father's hand, and we head toward my parent's yacht. I walk ahead trying to put some distance between us. In the background, I hear the two men in my life talking about boats and the best places to fish. Shock hits me as I glance back at the gorgeous man following me and my dad. This is really happening. I gulp at the ghost of a smile that plays on his lips. Something tells me Professor Grant accepted my father's invitation for the simple fact of making me uncomfortable.
This man loves watching me squirm, whether its beneath his hands or beneath his gaze. I board onto the yacht with a good measure of reluctance, keenly aware of how close Parker follows behind me. For a moment, I swear I feel his breath on my neck. The sensation nearly sends me overboard as the boat sways. Warm hands catch me, pulling me back into what feels like his growing erection.
"Those high heels don't make for very good sea legs."
"No, but they make for great legs."
"Fashion over comfort?" He chuckles.
"Always."
"Why does that not surprise me? They're hideous."
"You have poor taste."
He smirks. I flip my gaze behind me again just in time to catch him staring at my ass. My father lingers behind as he spots my mom on the other side of the yacht. My attention is drawn back to Professor Grant as his voice calls to me.
"Was it poor taste when I fucked your pussy?" he asks, sliding his gaze back to my face.
If my cheeks could turn redder I would be a cherry.
"If my father hears you, he'll throw you off this yacht."
I grin at the image of Professor Grant going overboard. I'm almost tempted to push him myself for leaving last night without so much as a goodbye.
"He'd do far worse if he knew how much you liked it."
My skin flushes at his words and it takes all of my strength not to push the man down the stairs. I try to ignore him as I step inside the yacht and head for the kitchen. I need a drink, some liquid courage, anything to keep myself from melting around this man. Professor Grant follows closely behind, leaving my father on the deck as he waits for my mother.
I pour myself a glass of whiskey over ice and then take small sips.
"That's never happening again," I say, putting down my class. "You're never touching me again."
A chuckle behind me sets a wave of excitement through me. I love hearing him laugh. The deep throaty sound is enough to make me throw caution to the wind. I turn to find him inches behind me. He steps forward closing the space between us. His thumb tracing my bottom lip as he leans in to kiss me. A rough, scorching kiss. Didn't I just tell him he was never touching me again? Blood rushes to my head as his hands captures my face and he pulls me into a kiss. I frantically wrap my hands around his neck as he presses into me, making me all too aware of his hard arousal. A moan threatens to break as he grinds against me. I pull away trying to catch my breath, but he doesn't let me get far.
His hands tangle themselves in my hair as he yanks my head back and plants a kiss on the side of my throat. I sigh against him and it's just the reaction he's looking for. He moves his lips to my ear.
"It's not over until I say it is."
He steps away ripping the warmth he brought with him. I watch as he leaves me and heads back onto the deck. I don't move too elated in my euphoric state to do anything other than replay the last few seconds in my mind. This game has become dangerously addictive, but what happens at the end of all of this. What happens at the end of the semester when class is over and reality sets in.
COMING SOON
To be continued…
Foreword
A special thanks to my husband for listening to me vent and cry about the difficulties of being an author, and for always encouraging me to write regardless of whether I publish or not.
A big thanks to my fans who’ve stuck with me over the years. Who’ve been patient and kind, and above all extremely understanding of all my changes and hiatuses. You guys are the best. It means so much to me to know at least one person enjoys my writing. Thank you for loving my characters. For bringing them into your life. I hope they’ve given you a small reprieve from this crazy world.
Lastly, I want to thank my daughter, Elise. ‘Ma-ma’ loves you. You’re my light. My life. My everything.
About the Author
Vanessa Booke is a lover of poetry, Rom-Coms, the combination of peanut butter and chocolate, and all things Jane Austen. She is an avid reader and graduate from Cal State University, San Bernardino where she received her Bachelor’s degree in English Literature. Vanessa lives in beautiful Southern California with her husband, Ryan, and their three dachshunds Zer0, Zoe
y, and Zelda. When she isn’t working on her novels, Vanessa spends most of her time window shopping and taking grand adventures with her partner in crime.
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For More Information:
www.VanessaBooke.com
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Grade A Ahole (ABCs of Love Book 1) Page 8