I couldn't breathe.
Professor Anderson Daniel, stood at the front of the lecture hall looking impossibly handsome in a navy suit that fit his broad shoulders like a fucking glove, he was god-damned gorgeous. He had short dark hair, and it was all business now instead of slightly ruffled at the bar, but those eyes...those killer blue eyes were exactly the same.
And they were looking at me.
"This class will probe the intricacies of human behavior," he continued, his voice steady and professional, though I could hear a tensing in his jaw. "We are going to explore how we make the decisions that we do, especially the ones that are not in our best interest.
Was he talking about me? About us?
My face burned hot. I hunched down in my chair, praying for the earth to swallow me whole.
"Miss?" Professor Anderson's voice pierced my panic. "In the middle row. Yes, you."
Oh God. He was calling on me.
All eyes in the lecture hall turned to me. I sat up and went into shock the adrenalin caused my heart to beat so fast I was sure she could hear it.
"What's your name?" he asked, his expression unreadable.
"Brooklyn," I whispered. "Brooklyn Miller."
There had been a flicker in his eyes recognition, warmth, perhaps sorrow, but it was eclipsed by his professionally neutral expression. "Brooklyn. Welcome. Now tell me, what do you think motivates people to act on impulse?"
The question felt loaded.
"I... um..." My mind went blank. I couldn't get his hands on my body, mouth on neck, the way he'd whispered my name in the dark out of my head. "Fear? Or perhaps ... wanting to escape from something painful?"
His lips curved slightly. Not quite a smile, but close. "Interesting. Escapism as a motivator. Who else wants to take that and run with it?"
A man in the first row raised his hand, and Professor Anderson looked away from me. I inhaled and exhaled; I hadn't realized that I had been holding my breath.
It was going to be terrible.
For the other forty-five minutes of class, I attempted to listen to his lecture on behavioral psychology but couldn't stop thinking about that night. The way he'd looked at me. Touched me. Gave me a feeling of being alive for the first time in forever.
And now he was my professor.
"That would be all for today," Professor Anderson concluded as the end of class neared. "Read chapters one to three for Wednesday. And...I could see them again for a moment.His eyes met mine once more. "Brooklyn Miller, come to my desk after class."
My stomach dropped.
Students started streaming out, buzzing about their schedules and how hot the new professor was. I packed all my things at a snail's pace, hands shaking, counting off each head that left the lecture hall.
At last it was only the two of us.
Professor Anderson, I couldn't call him Daniel any more, was behind his desk, arms folded, as he watched me head towards him. The air was so heavy between us.
"Shut the door," he whispered.
I did, my heart racing.
"This is.." He dragged a hand through his hair, the first chink in his professional armor. I had no idea you were a student here, Brooklyn. If I had known—"
"I didn't realize you were a professor," I cut in. "Your name is Daniel," you just said.
"It is Daniel. Daniel Anderson." He came closer and I received a whiff of his cologne, the same as tonight at the bar. "This is a problem."
"I know."
"A serious problem." His eyes darkened. "What went down between us … it can't go down again."
"I know," I said, even as my body reacted to his closeness and I remembered exactly what his touch had felt like on my skin.
"You're my student. There are rules. Ethics. I could lose my job." But as he said it, he moved closer, until we were inches apart. "I could lose everything."
"And then we ignore it," I said, attempting to sound sure. "It was one night. We were both drunk. It didn't mean anything."
"Didn't it?" And his voice lowered with that perfectly dangerous tone I remembered. His hand lifted, a fingertip lightly brushing my cheek. "Because I can't stop thinking about you. About that night. About the way you tasted,"
The classroom door burst open.
We sprang back as if we'd been shocked with a jolt of electricity.
A bleached blonde girl with a cheerleader's figure minced in, her gaze on Professor Anderson full of predatory intent. I knew her immediately, it was Addison, a good friend of Scarlett's.
"Oh, Professor Anderson," she cooed as if I didn't exist. "I feel menschI'm so sorry I'm late to my first class. I became disoriented trying to locate the building. You know, think you could help me put together the syllabus?"
Professor Anderson's face became professional courtesy in a flicker. "Of course. Brooklyn, we'll talk about this later in office hours. You're dismissed."
I picked up my bag and practically ran to get out of there, but not before seeing Addison's smirk. She knew very well what she was interrupting.
"You've seen a ghost," Ella said, catching me outside the building. My best friend was waiting, two coffees in hand. "How was psych?"
"Complicated," I grumbled and accepted the coffee with gratitude.
"Complicated how?" Ella's eyes narrowed. "Did something happen?"
Before I could respond, strong arms encircled my waist from behind. Slippers again and I bristled, then smelled Jayce's fancy aftershave.
"There's my girl," he murmured against my neck. "Missed you."
I willed myself to relax in his arms, but really guilt was churning my stomach. Jayce was trying. Since I'd forgiven him, he'd been the perfect boyfriend: attentive and romantic and always sending me through sweet text messages.
I should be happy. I should feel lucky.
So why had I felt nothing, when he had touched me? Why was the only area of my skin that burned the place I thought about Professor Anderson touching?
"How was your first class?" Jayce questioned, tugging me to face him. He was beautiful, God he was gorgeous, all chiseled jaw and glimmery smile. Half the girls at my school would have traded to get to him.
"Fine," I lied. "Boring, actually."
"All right, let me make your day a little more exciting." He took out his phone and showed me a picture. "Scored us an invite to the party of the year this Friday. Kappa Alpha's welcome bash. It's the place everyone who is anyone will be."
Ella squealed. "Oh my God, seriously? I've been trying to get on that list for weeks!"
"Jayce Jones gets what he wants," he said with that cocky smile of his that I'd once melted for. "So what do you say, baby? You and me celebrating our new beginning"?
I should say yes. This was what regular college students did. They partied with their boyfriends. They didn't obsess about forbidden nights with their professors.
"All right," I said, forcing a smile. "Sounds fun."
Jayce kissed me, deep and possessive in the middle of campus. I kissed him back, hoping to feel something, anything.
But all I could think was electric blue eyes and a warning that sounded more like a promise: What happened between us can't happen again.
When we let go of each other, I looked up at the psychology building.
Professor Anderson was at a window on the third floor, and he looked out and watched us. The gaze tried to burn right through me even at this distance.
Then he turned and vanished into the darkness of his office.
"Brook to Earth," laughed Jayce, wiggling a hand in my face. "You zoned out. What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," I lied. "Just tired."
But as we were walking away, I felt this was only the start. That no matter how much I wanted to be a good girlfriend, to just immerse myself in my future with Jayce, I was entangled in something far more dangerous.
Something I wasn't even sure I wanted to get out of.
My phone buzzed with an email alert.
From [email protected] Subject Office Hours Brooklyn, We really need to talk about your course of study this semester. Please stop by my office hours tomorrow at 4 PM. This is mandatory. -Professor Anderson
I looked at the email, heart pounding.