Page 4 of Filthy Professor

I shook my head. Stop it.

We settled across from each other in the booth, and he leaned toward me,tilting his head. “The make-out booth, hey?”

My face grew hot as I sputtered. Of course he knew. He’d gone to this school too. How stupid of me. “I mean, it is good for privacy, and it seems like you have a secret to spill. Were you a frequent patron of the make-out booth?”

He smirked. “Were you? Feels like we’ve both admitted it now.”

I crossed my arms, my cheeks heating, and said, “I’ve admitted nothing.” In reality, though, he was right. I had made out with a few college guys in this very booth. I’d never made out with a professor in it. Not that I was planning to now, right? My gaze dropped to his lips as I wondered what he’d done in this booth. How far had he gone with a girl here?

With a chuckle, Harrison shook his head and crossed his arms, mirroring me. “The fact you know of it and requested it is an admission in itself.”

I sighed. “Okay, I admit it. The allure of making out with a guy who bought me deep-dish pizza was too strong to resist.”

“That’s all it takes, huh?”

I blew out a breath. “Man, you just call me on all my bullshit.”

He shrugged. “Professor. It’s hard to turn it off.”

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing.” I leaned forward. “But who is doing the interviewing here?”

Taking his time, Harrison let his eyes caress my face, his gaze dropping slowly to my lips. “That’s a good question.”

My breath caught in my throat. “So, what’s the secret?” I blurted out, unable to help myself. I needed to get some control here. This conversation was turning too heated, and I needed to try to find some semblance of professionalism, even though it seemed like we’d breezed way past that already.

“I said food first.”

The reprimand shot a zing right to my core. Holy hell. I didn’t think I liked being challenged or commanded, but coming from him, it turned me on. “Okay, Professor.”

His eyes widened, and his chest heaved. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who liked how this exchange was going. He cleared his throat. “So why is your sister so fascinated with Ann-Margret’s boobs?”

I snorted. This was not at all the guy I’d been expecting today. He could set me on fire with a glance or a tone of voice, but then make me laugh with a direct joke. “Well, I don’t think it really is about her boobs themselves . . .”

“Really? That was her whole shtick there for a while.”

“Okay, fine, it is. That woman shakes them so hard with no bra on. It’s fascinating, painful, and amusing to watch. That’s all.” I held up my hands. “Have you seen that one?”

“I mean, she and Elvis did a few together—they were having an affair—but I think you’re referring to Viva Las Vegas, in which case, yes, I’ve seen it. But she does that in many of her movies, and on talk shows too.”

I laughed. “This must be the most bizarre way to start an interview that I’ve ever had.”

He shrugged. “You started it.”

“You resurrected it and made me read that text in front of the entire class.”

Harrison smirked. “I had no way of knowing what your text said. Although, that is one of the more embarrassing and best ones.”

I laughed. “I guess I did start it originally by me texting her about Elvis before I came in.”

“As one does?” he said as our pizza was placed in front of us.

I carefully picked up the thick slice. “When he reminds you of your dad, absolutely.” Sinking my teeth into the delectable slice of pepperoni deep-dish, I moaned. It had been too long, and this was exactly how I remembered it. I sighed. “You know how things often aren’t as good in real life as you build them up in your head to be? This pizza still is.” I took another bite as Harrison dug in.

“You’re right. It’s been a while since I’ve been in here too.”

“But you live here. You can come whenever you like.”

“The place is usually crawling with students, and besides, I work hard for this body.”