Dear Professor(82)

“Miss Hamilton, how nice of you to join us.” His tone was dry.

“Sorry, sir.” I flashed him a demure smile. “I had trouble starting my car.”

“Perhaps you should schedule an appointment to get that repaired to avoid this happening again.”

“Right after class.” My smile turned sweet, and I sat in my chair with a flourish.

Jake’s side-eye was full of questions, but I ignored it as I pulled my things out of my purse and got settled in for class.

Professor Keaton’s eyes stayed on me for a moment longer. “May I continue with the class?”

“Please do.” I tilted my head to the side and, with a sassy smile, bit the end of my pen.

His eyes darkened a shade right before he turned around and picked up presumably where he’d left off. I leaned back in my chair, making sure to keep my eyes on him. I wanted him to feel my attention. It was like telling him that I had him pegged without actually saying the words.

My gaze followed him as he walked back and forth across the room. His jaw visibly ticked each time he stopped talking, and his eyes flitted my way more than once. Each time they met mine, my lips twitched, which only made the anger I saw strengthen.

I had no doubt that, if we had been alone, he wouldn’t have been so far away. In fact, he’d have been right against me.

The game continued all throughout class. Jaw ticking, eyes meeting, lips quirking.

It was the most fun I’d had in a long time—even if I knew my ass would suffer for it… In around two minutes.

The class ended. Jake grabbed my arm as soon as I stood up and leaned over.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?” he hissed in my ear. “You’ve had ants in your pants all throughout class.”

I frowned at him and wrenched my arm out of his grasp. “I’m in a good mood! Plus, it’s bonus payday.” I grinned.

That wasn’t a lie—my bank account was now much, much prettier than it had been when I had gone to bed last night. Nisha had a great incentive to work hard by the monthly bonuses. Mine was two thousand dollars this month.

That screamed new shoes.

“You haven’t been yourself all week. Yesterday, you were really down, and now, you’re in the best mood ever. Are you sure you’re okay?”#p#分页标题#e#

“I can’t be sad all the time, Jake. I have to live, and today, I feel good.” I shrugged and picked my up purse. “I have to go. I have an appointment with Professor Happy over there about my letter.”

“Do you think he’ll finally give it to you?”

I had no doubt. “With any luck. I’ve spent way too much time trying to convince him.”

Jake snorted and grabbed the door, stepping to the side to allow me out. “No shit. At least twice a week, you see him.”

I should be so lucky. “He’s a pain in the ass. I’ll call you later?”

“All right.” He hugged me quickly. “Try to escape alive, yeah?”

“Got it.” I smiled as he strolled down the hallway and threw a wave over his shoulder.

I only had to wait for a minute before Jordan appeared. His brisk steps had him traveling the length of the hall in seconds, and he pulled a key out his pocket and shoved it into the keyhole. He turned it with vigor and shoved open the door. Then he waited.

I looked up at him, and he gestured for me to enter his office. With a deep breath, I stepped inside. Apprehension tingled up my arms at the same time that a chill ran down my spine.

His anger was palpable. I could taste it in the air as he swept past me. He sat on his chair, rolling his shoulders as he rested his arms on the desk.

His electric-blue eyes focused on me, and in the bright hue of his gaze, the rest of his office seemed to melt away. I had no idea how he kept doing that to me—it was almost as if he were casting a spell over me, hypnotizing me with nothing more than a glance.

My heart thumped loudly in my chest at the lust I saw burning back at me. That hard-edged, animalistic lust that drove me wild. I’d never tell him that though. Especially not now. I refused to give him that much power over me.

He already had enough… But not for much longer.

“What’s wrong, sir?” I asked as I coyly twirled a piece of my hair around my finger.

“I’m trying very hard not to be pissed at you, Darcy,” he shot at me. The rough edge to his voice rumbled through the air between us until it hit me full force. His words crawled over my skin, and each one carried the whispered promise.

Or maybe it was a threat; I couldn’t tell.

“How can I piss you off? I haven’t done anything.” It was a petulant response—I knew that. But I didn’t care. Mostly because I had done something, and I’d done it deliberately.