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Ana doesn’t reply, or if she does then I don’t hear her because a second later, Professor Barlowe strides into the lecture hall, and my entire world narrows to him.
Maybe it’s infatuation. Obsession. I don’t know and don’t really care. Everything about him draws me in and I want one taste. One little taste, and I’ll be satisfied.
Or I won’t.
He strides in with purpose and flashes a dazzling smile at the row of faces filling the lecture hall. Just a glimpse and my heart is fluttering. He’s tall and much more muscular than you would expect from someone who teaches Writing and Literary Concepts. With curly brown hair that sweeps back from his forehead, a constant easy smile, and striking hazel eyes that glint like warm coffee in the sun, I’ve been hooked from day one.
The class starts, and he greets everyone the way he always does, with an anecdote of something funny that happened over the weekend. His voice is low and velvet soft, yet he holds the attention of every single student in here. Me included. As he talks, he moves his hands back and forth while pacing the stage. Occasionally, he lifts his hands to adjust his dark, square glasses or drags a strong-looking hand through his thick hair. The top button of his shirt is always undone, and his tie—today it’s red—always hangs an inch or two down from his throat, loosely knotted.
I want to grab it. I want to wind my hand into the silk and use it to pull him closer to me. I want his velvet voice in my ear telling me how good I look in this skirt. How desperately he wants to rip this shirt from my body and kiss every inch of pale skin underneath. My mind runs with the fantasy for the rest of the lesson, and I don’t notice that the lecture is over until Ana snaps her fingers in front of my face.
“Earth to Emma.” She chuckles. “Where are you?”
“Sorry.” I straighten up. “I was miles away.”
“Clearly.” Ana gathers her laptop and books then slides them into her bag. “Were you and Finn away on some sexy retreat?” Ana laughs to herself as she stands.
“Maybe.” Gathering my books, I tuck them away, sling my bag over my shoulder, and then step out into the aisle. Ana follows and we make it a few steps down then I turn to her. “I just want to ask him something. Meet you outside?”
Ana affectionately rolls her eyes, then pats my shoulder as she passes. “You got it.”
The class is nearly empty when I reach the bottom of the steps. Professor Barlowe—Finn—stands near his desk, bent at the waist with his attention on his computer. I make a beeline for him, only to pause when a hand catches my elbow.
“Hey, Emma.”
Glancing up, I see another guy from my class standing next to me. Mike, I think his name is.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Oh, I was just saying hi.” His thin, concave cheeks flush pink suddenly and a nervous smile spreads across his face.
“Oh. Hi.” I laugh politely and sidestep him, making a beeline for Professor Barlowe. “Professor?”
Finn lifts his head first, with his eyes still on his computer. Then those gorgeous hazel eyes lock onto me and warmth flushes through my body like a wave.
“Emma. How can I help?”
The way he says my name is like honey, each syllable dripping from his lips. I want to hear it over and over. Finn chanting my name like a prayer.
I put on my best smile, tuck a curl of dark hair behind my ear and step forward with my hip cocked. “I actually have some questions about the assignment you gave us last week?”
Finn clicks his tongue thoughtfully behind his teeth, his eyes never leaving mine, then he nods. “The personal reflection within fiction?”
“Yes.” I smile wider and allow my eyes to wander over his broad shoulders, slowly down his torso then back up to his face. I don’t know how much more obvious I can be that I’m checking him out.
“It’s not like you to struggle with something like that. You’re quite the talented writer.”
His compliment brings a burst of heat across my face and I switch my weight from leg to leg, cocking my other hip as I lean against his desk.
“Why thank you, I appreciate that. I just…There's something about this that I’m struggling with. Usually, I have no problem taking care of something so hard, but this one, I need some extra help.” Batting my eyelashes, I lean an inch closer and subtly bite my lower lip when our eyes meet.
Finn…is completely unaffected. His gaze doesn’t move, his voice doesn’t waver and if he picks up on any of the innuendos in my speech, he just doesn’t appear to care.
“I can organize some one-on-one time with a tutor if you think that will help. You have the skill, Emma. If you apply yourself.”
“Not some one-on-one time with you?” I ask with faux innocence.
“I tend to step in after assistance from a tutor fails,” Finn says politely. “Fill this out and get it back to me by tomorrow and I’ll assign someone to you.” In one move, Finn hands me a form then turns back to his computer. I’m silently dismissed.
