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“Right on time. That will be your cab. I called one for you earlier.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to—”
“It’s best this way, Miss Roche.”
I ducked my head, mortified. Logically, I knew we couldn’t be seen together, especially when I showed up at my dorm wearing men’s clothes after staying out all night. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d created a terrible lasting impression I would never recover from in the professor’s eyes.
And I hated that.
This man had been…kind. Looking after me when I was drunk. Protecting my public reputation. Giving me his own clothes to wear and making breakfast for me. He hadn’t scolded me. Not once.
My father would have yelled until he turned purple with rage.
I really needed to stop comparing him with Professor Stonebridge. They were completely different people.
After grabbing my clothes from last night, Stonebridge led me outside with the warm weight of his palm resting lightly on my back. He opened the cab door and gestured me inside.
“I hope this has proven to be a valuable lesson.”
“Believe me, I won’t be forgetting it any time soon,” I replied.
As I moved toward the cab, Stonebridge caught my elbow and turned me to face him. My heart lodged in my throat as I realized how close we were. His posture was soft and loose, instead of the straight-backed, proper professor I knew from class.
I fantasized about closing the few inches between us and sliding my hands under the hem of his shirt, mapping his warm skin and muscles.
“We all make mistakes, Miss Roche,” Stonebridge said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
I blinked in surprise. Why didn’t he reprimand me for being stupid? Why didn’t he scold me for drinking until I passed out? Why didn’t he give me a pep talk about the importance of putting my studies first?
I didn’t deserve to be spoken to like this—softly, with a reassuring touch. I’d screwed up. Badly. And I was well on my way to flunking out of college entirely.
Standing there in front of Professor Stonebridge, I almost felt like I could pull myself together and get back on my feet. Make something of myself. I almost felt like I actually mattered to someone.
Before I realized what I was doing, I rose up on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his.
For a split second, I could have sworn he kissed me back. A flick of his tongue against mine. A faint rumble of desire deep in his chest.
Then he grasped me by the shoulders and pushed me away to a safe distance. He scraped his teeth over his lower lip and turned his head away, dragging a hand over his mouth.
“Good day, Miss Roche.”
He wouldn’t look at me. And his voice was rough, gravelly.
My lips burned with what I’d done. Shame heated my cheeks. I clutched my bundle of clothes to my chest and ducked into the cab.
Congratulations, Elle, I thought. You screwed up. Again.
Chapter 4
Vincent
“Are you all right, Vincent?”
I blinked in surprise and glanced up, dragging myself out of my reverie. Dean Franklin Wilcox raised his eyebrows expectantly, awaiting my answer. He had been the Dean of East Regent University for thirty-five years, overseeing the school with a fair hand, sharp judgment, and very little tolerance for rule breaking.
The memory of that kiss with Elle burned like a beacon in my memory. Technically, I reasoned, I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.
Except for the pesky little detail that I’d kissed her back. And wanted more.
