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Suddenly, she sits upright and closes her laptop. The hairs on the back of my neck stand as she stares at me.
“What is it, Miss Green?” I ask, keeping my cool.
“Don’t you want to punish me for the way I acted today?”
I gaze back down at my book. “No. We’re not doing that anymore.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“You know why,” I reply, glancing her way only briefly.
“What are you so afraid of, Dr. Goode?” She leans back and crosses her arms over her chest.
Getting attached. Falling in love. Breaking your heart.
But I can’t say that.
“Losing my job,” I reply.
“Who’s going to find out?” she asks. “It’ll be our little secret.”
There’s that word again—secret—the one that sets my body on fire with exhilaration. I want to keep secrets with her more than I’m proud to admit.
“Miss Green, stop it.”
“Punish me, Dr. Goode.”
“No. Besides, it doesn’t feel right spanking a pregnant woman now that you’re starting to show.”
I glance up from my book, expecting her to relent. But she doesn’t.
Instead, she moves onto all fours. “There are other ways to make me pay.”
Fuck.
“Miss Green,” I say in warning, but like the petulant brat she is, she doesn’t listen.
“Come on, Professor,” she purrs as she crawls closer. The sound of that word on her lips does things to me.
“What are you doing, Miss Green? Why are you trying to cross this line now?” I ask.
“Because another woman touched you today,” she says with determination. “And I didn’t like it. I’ll do whatever I can to get your attention, Dr. Goode.”
“Because you’re a brat.”
“Because I’m your brat.”
I gaze down at her, my conscience lost between right and wrong. Want and need. Smart and reckless. Sadie exits somewhere in the blurry gray haze of virtue and sin. She muddles my cognition, obscures my principles, and obliterates my judgment.
As she reaches me, where I’m sitting in my brown leather chair, I’ve given up the fight. When she grabs the book from my hands and tosses it across the room, I don’t even flinch. My eyes are focused on her and the temptation to discipline her for her tantrum.
“How exactly would you like to be punished then, little devil?” I ask, forcing myself to breathe.
“Let me make it up to you,” she says. “Let me show you how good I can be.”
From this angle, her eyes glisten, and her mouth looks delicious—those round, full lips. And I know what she’s implying, but it’s so wrong.
“Then go ahead,” I mutter with a cold, hard expression. “Show me.”
