Page 8 of Forbidden Professor
She just glances back with a wry expression. The locksmith is just now working on her door and I’m almost out of time. She lifts a shoulder and shrugs. “Whatever.”
Then she heads up the steps to her modern, expensive-looking house.
She’s wearing a pair of my Levi’s now, and the thought of her in my jeans is doing something to me that I never expected. Watching her climb the stairs, providing me with a clear view of her ass swaying from side to side makes my cock twitch.
God, if she were anyone else, I wouldn’t feel so conflicted.
But she’s not just anyone, she’s Aiden’s sister. Sure, it’s all removed because she’s adopted. There’s no trace of kinship between us. But still, somehow, it feels wrong.
Myfeelingsfeel wrong.
Like, I’m supposed to be able to easily resist them, because of those complications.
But my body hasn’t caught on to the fact that she’s strictly off limits. My cock doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.
She doesn’t look back again as I wistfully turn toward the bridge that will carry me across to the meeting that I’m almost definitely going to be late for.
As I jog down the street, I can’t stop my mind from churning.
Seeing Eve is like someone has kicked me in the gut. One minute I’m jogging toward home, the next minute I’m trying not to stare at her honey-colored hair and her incredible face.
Her lips alone could make a man beg for mercy. Her eyes are exactly halfway between blue and green. And the way she arches her eyebrow when she has a question…
It’s funny how that little facial quirk can bring me to my knees.
Every single interaction I’ve had with her has been exactly that way. Try to focus on what she’s saying and not on her slender body. Or the way she tosses her hair back and fixes me with a fiery glare. Or the swell of her hips, swaying softly back and forth as she walks.
Yeah, it’s official. I’m thirty-two years old and I have a fucking crush. On Eve no less, who is a spoiled princess just out of her undergrad years. She’s way too young for me to even be looking at herandshe’s my half-brother’s sister. Adopted sister. Whatever.
And yet… I mean, just look at her. Other than all the things I just mentioned, she’s basically perfect. Lucky for me, things have never lined up right for us to be able to spend much time together.
Until now. How am I supposed to deal with her being in such close proximity?
She’s perfect for someone else. With her sharp tongue and her critical gaze, she’d be better off with a marshmallow of a man, someone who will let her walk all over him. Someone that can give her the life she is used to, the one that she deserves.
I blow out a breath. Eve leaves me confused and horny at the best of times.
After I’m partway over the bridge, I take a last wistful look over my shoulder. I can see her place in the distance and now I know I’ll see it every time I head home from work.
Her place is nicer than mine, that’s for sure. Her new house is twice the size of mine, with large picture windows and thousands of dollars’ worth of landscaping outside. And that’s just what I saw today. The inside is undoubtedly much fancier, unlike my solidly middle class home choice. It’s not that I can’t afford a nicer place, but I’m attempting to be frugal.
And, after the blow out fight that I had with my mother over my trust fund, I’m not exactly rolling in available cash. She administers my trust until I turn 35. I comfort myself with knowing that’s less than three years away.
Nevertheless, I’m forced to live on my actual salary alone for the first time, and…. well, it’s proving more difficult than expected. I straighten my tie as I walk the rest of the way over the bridge to the University of Washington Medical School.
Ten minutes from now, I have a meeting with the head of the biology program. I’m not nervous exactly; I’ve never spared much thought for job interviews. But I worked as an adjunct professor last semester, and I would really, really like to move up to a less tenuous position.
You know, the better to pay the rent with or whatever. But I still can’t help but feel like I am being called into the principal’s office when I climb the stairs to meet her.
When I get to Dr. Mooney’s office, she ushers me in and points to a seat. All around me are piles of files and books, stacked haphazardly. It’s a challenge to fit my body in the empty space of the chair without knocking over anything.
Dr. Mooney sits down at her cluttered desk and looks down her nose at me, even though she’s probably only five feet to my 6’3”. She’s old and cranky as fuck, wrapped in at least two old cardigans today. It’s hard to get a read on her, honestly.
She opens what seems to be my permanent record on the desk in front of her, leaning close to read. “Dr. Morgan. You taught a Bio 300 level class at the community college last semester.”
I shift in my seat, brushing a stack of files with my shoulder. “Yes.”
“Let’s see. Yale for undergrad… and you did your post grad at Portland State.”