by BJ Harvey
“So you decided to push me toward an inevitable complication?”
“I gave you a well-overdue push and honestly,” he says, quirking a brow, “it didn’t take much more than a poke.”
“Well something was—”
He levels me with a ‘really?’ glare. “You finally gave in to what the rest of us have been watching for months now, and you’re worried about being her teacher?” He sighs. “There are ways around that, Jax. Talk to Joey.”
My cheeks heat, which is so unlike me, because I’m not one to blush. “I already have,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry. Did I hear you say you already have?”
I square my shoulders and meet his amused gaze. “I met with him yesterday.”
“Then pull your hand off your dick, stop coming up with excuses and just fucking do something about it before some cocky freshman goes all out to fulfill their cougar fantasy with her.”
That makes me growl—loudly—and his grin turns huge. He poked the bear and got the reaction he wanted. “Asshole,” I mutter.
“Bet you’ll reply to her text now though,” he says, nodding to the phone in my hand. “Or are you gonna run and hide from someone who is into you, isn’t photog-pussy, and likes you for you and your small, ineffectual cock?”
I go to punch him but the fucker is already shutting the truck door before I can react, his laughter filling the air.
Jax—What does a Ken have to do to get the gorgeous Barbie to go out with him?
Her response comes a few minutes later, those scrolling three dots on our message string driving me insane the more time passes without an answer. When it comes through—as per usual—she doesn’t disappoint.
Ronnie—Chase her until he’s caught her.
Ronnie
Monday afternoon, and I’m in my chair at the back of the class, my eyes glued to the door. I’ve never been the girl who pines after a guy, but everything about Jaxon Cook draws me in.
Case in point: my body overheating at the sight of him walking in the room. Butterflies make my stomach their home as his gaze sweeps the room, a dazzling smile curving his lips when he locks eyes with me.
Today he’s wearing navy dress pants, a white open-neck linen shirt, and a grey tweed blazer over the top. On most other men, it would be stuffy and almost nerdy. On Jax, with his black thick-rimmed reading glasses, stylishly tousled hair, and bright, all-seeing amber eyes, it looks damn hot. Geeky hot, read-me-a-textbook-and-I-won’t-hear-a-word-of-it-because-I’m-too-busy-imagining-you-naked hot. He-asks-you-a-question-and-you-sit-there-all starry-eyed-looking-like-an-idiot hot.
Shit, that actually just happened.
“Ms. Nelson?” he calls out.
Shaking my head to clear the lust-fueled haze, I don’t miss the twitch of his lips before he quickly schools his expression. The same can’t be said of my classmates, all of whom have twisted in their seats to look at me.
“Yes, Professor Cook?” I reply, my tone saccharine-sweet. Last class he told us to call him Jax, but I’ve never been one to do what people want me to. My father and my abandoned law career can attest to that.
My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but pride refuses to let me acknowledge my embarrassment. I square my shoulders and lift my chin with an edge of defiance.
“I asked everyone if they’d brought their cameras today as requested.”
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes flash at the salutation before he breaks my gaze and returns his attention back to the class. I, however, let go of the breath I’m holding while trying to quell the rising ache between my legs.
“Before I give you your first class assignment, let’s go over the different parts of the camera and their function,” he says, pulling up his own Canon from the desk. “This will most likely be revision for some of you, but you never know; you might learn something you didn’t know.”
For the next twenty minutes, he brings up slides on the projector and methodically works his way through the different features of the equipment, stopping to answer questions when students raise their hands, and not paying any further obvious attention to me. There’s a group of girls—I can call them that because they’re more than ten years younger than me—sitting in the front row, doing everything possible to get Jax’s attention. I don’t blame them, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel an unwelcome clench in my gut every time he smiles at them or turns on the Jax Cook charm when he answers.
We agreed to keep whatever it is between us to ourselves when we’re on campus, but part of me really wishes I could stake my claim. I can just imagine the shocked look on the girls’ faces if I stormed to the front of the class and slammed my mouth against those soft, perfect lips of his. Their reaction would almost make the ramifications worth it. Almost.
He finishes with his explanation, putting his camera down on the table in front of him and looking back to the class.
“Now, for the fun stuff,” he says, a wicked smile curving his mouth, “the first assignment is worth ten percent of your grade and requires you to work in pairs.”
Straight away, students look to their friends in the class or their neighbor next to them, nods, high fives, and handshakes being shared as the quiet classroom morphs into a hum of conversation.
Jax shakes his head before knocking the wood in front of him to regain control of the class. “Before you go arranging your own partners, I’ve taken the liberty of selecting your partners for you. The aim is to challenge you to work with someone you may not know and hopefully, learn something from one another. I’ll call you down in pairs, and then you can go meet somewhere around campus to discuss the project and brainstorm. The theme is portraits, so I want you to carefully read the assignment brief and note down the key points we expect to see. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you all again next Monday.”
Then, two by two, Jax calls out everyone until the last pair of giggling female fans—I mean, students—walk out of the room, closing the door behind them, leaving just the two of us. “Veronica Nelson,” he says with a smirk. His eyes are filled with amusement as I stand, pulling my bag over my shoulder, and make my way down the stairs toward him.
“Am I paired with someone away from class today?” I ask.
He glances to the closed door then back to me. “Fortunately, there is an odd number of people in class so that means you’re going to have to work with me for the project.”
I open my mouth to protest, unease rising inside of me at how this might look.
“But, I will only be there in an observational capacity. There can’t be any misunderstanding that you might be getting an unfair advantage by working with your professor.”
I let out the breath I was holding, my shoulders lowering with my exhale. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He grins, lifting his arm as if to sweep a loose tendril of my hair away, but catches himself. “I said I wasn’t going to jeopardize your grade in this class because of our personal involvement and so I won’t. This was an opportunity I wasn’t going to give up though.”
I tilt my head. “Why?”
“You need to ask?”
“I said to chase me, and I haven’t heard from you since then. This,” I say, sweeping my hand out, “isn’t part of the chase. You haven’t even asked me out on a date yet.”
His lips twitch. “Barbie,” he says, deep and low. “Was showing you the Dream House not a date?”
I bark out a laugh, throwing my head back. “If you think that’s a date, you have a lot to learn, sir.”
His gaze drops to my mouth and my wide smile, his eyes darkening when my breath hitches and I subconsciously run my tongue along my bottom lip, earning a rumbling growl in his throat.
“Care to teach me?” His voice is rough and reminds me of the way he sounded when he was turned on and driving deep inside me. I shudder, and it’s my turn to lock my arms at my sides to stop myself from acting on the memories flashing through my brain.
>
“We better get out of here and go somewhere around people. Then I won’t have to fight every instinct I have. I want to grab hold of that ponytail, tug your head back, and kiss that mouth of yours to shut you up.”
I step back to put much-needed distance between us. “But you like my smart mouth.”
“I also like what it does to me in my fantasies right now, so I think it’s best we go to a coffee shop off-campus to discuss your ideas for the assignment.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Not that I don’t like the idea of his fantasies and what I might be doing in them, but if we’re going to get through the semester unscathed—professionally, of course—then letting him kiss me and do other things to me in the classroom where he teaches, and I have to concentrate, would not be a wise move.
“Lead the way,” I say.
He walks to the door and swings it wide. “After you, Ms. Nelson. I do believe I’m the one doing the chasing. Remember?”
“You’re learning, Ken,” I whisper, a sly smile on my lips.
“Sometimes teachers need to be taught too,” he murmurs, shutting the door behind us before walking down the hall at my side.
Ten minutes later, Jax is pulling out a chair for me at the back of a quaint little coffee shop a few blocks away.
Once we’ve ordered and I’m seated, he sits opposite me, pulling his phone and wallet out of his pocket and sliding them inside the front compartment of his leather satchel.
“Do you come here often?” I ask. His eyes crinkle, his lips quirking on one side as it occurs to me how it sounds. I shrug. “Two birds, one stone.”
“Indeed. But wasn’t it you who insisted we keep this professional?”
“Only on-campus. I figure we can call this a pre-date/pre-assignment meeting. That way, I can brainstorm ideas for the project, and also educate you on the fine art of the chase.”
“I’m quite adept at going after what I want.”
“Is that so?” I ask, tilting my head to study him. “Because if I recall, it was you who actively avoided me at all family functions for the best part of a year.”
“I was—”
“Not chasing.”
“I didn’t want to complicate anything,” he says, his expression filled with sincerity.
“I guessed that. It’s not like you to be shy.”
“No, that’s my doppelgänger.”
“He’s not shy either.”
“Around his family and friends, no, but he takes a while to let his guard down around strangers. He was burned once, so he can be rather introspective sometimes.”
“The yin to your yang?”
“In some ways. In others, we’re like two peas in a pod,” he says with a soft smile.
“So, like twins then?”
“Exactly.” His grin widens just as the server delivers our coffees.
I cup my hands around the mug and bring it up to my lips, letting out a moan and closing my eyes at that first hit of caffeine. When I open them again, I find him frozen mid cup-lift, his attention now one hundred percent on me and my mouth.
I frown, nodding to his suspended coffee. “You going to drink that, or just sit there and imagine me moaning during other activities?”
That snaps him out of it.
“Yeah. That sounds like a good idea to me. As your professor, I insist we do that instead.”
I giggle and shake my head, watching him smirk. “Somehow, I don’t think that’ll help.”
“You never know,” he says with a wink. “I didn’t say the portraits couldn’t be action shots. Especially if you’re the subject and I’m taking them of you mid-orgasm.”
Someone clears their throat, breaking the moment. Jax and I turn our heads and meet the disapproving eyes of an elderly couple looking truly scandalized.
“I’m so sorry for my friend here. He seems to be under the impression coffee shops are the ideal places to proposition students,” I tell them, trying to hold back a laugh when they both glare at Jax. One look at my professor and I find his eyes wide before narrowing when he meets mine.
“Actually,” he says to them, “my student just offered me sexual favors for a good mark. As an upstanding member of the teaching fraternity, I couldn’t possibly consider her request.”
They gasp again, their heads turning between us like they’re watching a tennis volley.
“Kids these days,” the woman mutters before they both stand and leave the coffee shop.
“That wasn’t very nice of you,” Jax says they’re gone.
“And saying I’m swapping sex for grades was?” My lips twitch, as he at least has the decency to look guilty—only for a second though. “So, should we actually talk about the assignment now?”
He nods, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a piece of paper. He hands it over the table to me, his fingers brushing mine as I take it from him. My eyes snap to his when he doesn’t let it go straight away.
“I won’t swap sex for an A, but I’m open to sampling the goods,” he murmurs.
I tug the assignment brief from his hold. “Don’t you remember, I’ve sampled already, and it will forever be associated with the most embarrassing moment of my adult life. Your mom thinks I was getting myself off while everyone was downstairs.”
“Well… not everyone.”
He reaches out and grabs my hand again, tangling his fingers with mine, sending jolts of lust straight to my core. “One day I’ll erase that memory for you and show you exactly what I was about to do before I was rudely shoved off the bed and onto the floor.”
“Oh, really?” I scoff. “How about I keep that as spank-bank fodder for later, and before you make me squirm any more in my seat, we talk about the assignment.”
“You’re no fun,” he grumbles half-heartedly as I chuckle at his pouting lip.
“We both know that’s not true, but I’ll make sure to prove to myself later tonight just how much fun I really can be.”
His head drops down, and a pained groan escapes his lips. “Barbie is a cock tease.”
“And Ken has no fucking idea yet, but he will,” I say with a beaming smile.
An hour and another coffee later, I’ve got a better idea of what Jax expects for this assignment, and a few concepts to work with. Having paid the check, Jax stands and rounds the table to pull out my chair, before sliding his hand to rest on the small of my back and leading me toward the front door. Walking in at the same time we’re walking out is one of the girls I recognize from class. I freeze, my body tensing up. Jax is seemingly oblivious, his hand pressing against my shirt.
The student looks from me to Jax then back to me again. She scans me up and down with what looks like a bitter taste in her mouth before turning to Jax. I step sideways and out of his reach.
“Bar—”
“Professor Cook, I didn’t expect to see you here,” she says, moving in front of him.
Jax, being Jax, appears unaffected by this turn of events. “Ah, Chelsea, is it? Did you decide to go off-campus too?”
Chelsea’s head jerks back. “My partner and I have finished our meeting already. I was just coming here to grab a brownie. I’ve been told it’s the best for miles.”
“Good to know,” he replies with a half-grin. “Veronica is without a partner for this assignment so I’ve offered my services.”
“Oh,” she says, her eyes widening. “I didn’t know that was a possibility. If I had, I might’ve volunteered to work alone.”
Oh, hell no, bitch. I bite my lip to control the green monster sparking to life inside of me.
Jax laughs. “Maybe next time, Chelsea. We were just leaving so I’ll see you in class next week?”
Chelsea steps aside, giving us room to pass by. “Absolutely. Have a good day.”
Jax nods and again rests his hand on the small of my back to usher me outside.
My body is still tense as we begin the walk back to campus.
“
Does this class as a date?” he asks, turning toward me. “And if so, how many dates does it take for me to see you naked again? Preferably horizontal and underneath me.” His voice is laced with sex, and a weaker woman would fold there and then and beg him to take her, anywhere and everywhere.
Thankfully, I’ve never been described as weak or meek, for that matter. My mother would call me stubborn. My father would say strong-willed. Gilly would describe me as brave, whereas I just like to think of myself as a woman who knows what she wants and will no longer settle for anything less. I want a man to make an effort for me. Someone who won’t shy away at the challenge of making me theirs.
Jax may have followed me upstairs at the engagement party, but he didn’t require any further instruction whatsoever after he walked into that room. He definitely hasn’t let the complication of me being his student assuage his interest in me. So, either I have a magic vagina and he’s pussy whipped, or he’s going to prove what I saw that first day I met him. He loves the challenge and he likes to come out on top. Although that’s a position I like as well, so we may have to compromise.
“What are you thinking, Barbie?” he asks, putting his hand on my arm and moving us out of the middle of the sidewalk and into the entrance of a narrow alley between buildings.
“I’m wondering if this clueless act is all a ruse and you actually know what you’re doing after all.”
“Why’s that?” he asks, his eyes showing a glint of amusement. He totally knows what he’s doing.
“Because you may have kept your distance before last weekend, but now… you’re actively working on driving me crazy.”
“In a good way?” he says, his lips twitching.
“In a ‘we should stick to crowded places or else I’m never going to be able to keep my hands to myself’ kind of way.”
He leans closer. “And that’s a problem?”
“Lewd acts in a public place won’t look good on my record.”
He drops his head, his shoulders shaking with his quiet laughter. Unfortunately, it also brings him just that little bit closer, and I catch the scent of his woody cologne.