Page 8 of Falling for Mindy

“Pick up the dumbbells. We better get ready for a long semester of tough workouts and cold, cold showers, my man.”

I couldn’t argue. Not while I was lifting weights and thinking miserably that Aaron was right. It was going to be a hell of a long semester.

CHAPTER 5

MINDY

“You are misspending your youth. You’re supposed to go wild, regret it later,” Katie said, emerging from her bedroom dressed to go out.

“What?” I asked. “I was too tired to cook. It’s been a long week. But I survived it.”

She glowered at me, where I sat on the couch in my sweats with an open pizza box beside me.

“You could come out with me. It would be fun!”

“You go, have fun. I’m going to stay in tonight. Watch a little Netflix, catch up on my laundry and get some sleep.”

“You’re so exciting,” she laughed, kissing my cheek, “have fun, I guess.”

Katie took off, and I found a movie on Netflix I had been wanting to watch. I settled in with an iced coffee from the fridge and enjoyed a little romcom in my comfy clothes.

I would admit to myself that I was a little lonely, that I wished I had a boyfriend to snuggle with and to laugh at when he complained about my movie choice, but what I’d told Katie was true. I was happy hanging out by myself and watching what I wanted to, eating what I wanted to, with no pressure.

I was so cozy on the couch that I just let the next movie queue up without reaching for the remote. Sometime during the second movie, something silly about mistaken identity, I fell asleep.

Professor Quinn was looming over my desk. I looked up at him, startled. His broad shoulders nearly blocked out the light, the fierce expression on his handsome face making my mouth go dry.

“You were sleeping in my class, Ms. Sayers. Am I boring you?”

“N-no--” I stammered.

“Class was dismissed several minutes ago,” he said. I looked around, confused, at the empty auditorium, just the two of us alone in there. “Come to my office so we can discuss this.”

Hastily I gathered my books and computer, stuffed them in my bag and scrambled after him. He ushered me down the hall to a small office and followed me in. I saw him flip the deadbolt, locking us in. I put down my bag and started to take a seat when I noticed him leaning against the door, blocking it. Drawn to him, I approached until we were toe to toe, my head tipped way back to meet his eyes. Those dark eyes with the glint of honey to them, ferocious and molten at the same time. His chest was heaving, straining the buttons of his proper blue shirt. I ran one palm up the front of his starched cotton shirt, feeling the heat of his muscular flesh beneath it. I was shocked I had the nerve to stand so close, to touch him. He was my professor. He was here to reprimand me for sleeping in class and I was taking the liberty of putting my hands on him because I’d never get another chance. He bent his head and I felt his lips behind my ear, his mouth kissing and sucking my neck. I rose on tiptoe, gasping at the intimacy, the jolt of sensation that spiked right between my legs.

“We both know what this is about,” he said, “do you know what you do to me sitting in the front row, crossing and uncrossing those legs, never looking at me?”

I slid my hand into his hair, arching my neck to give him better access as he licked and sucked my sensitive throat. “Jesus,” I breathed, clenching my fist in the front of his shirt, sucking my lip and biting it to keep from crying out. My nipples grew hard and achy, abraded by the lace of my bra. I was wet for him already. I wanted him to know, but I didn’t have the guts to tell him so. I stood there, pressing myself against him at full length and trembling, my fingers in his silky hair, tugging just a little. His hand was in my hair, and his other was on my hip, on my thigh hiking up my skirt. I could feel my knees start to go. I tilted my head and leaned up to whisper in his ear, “Please, Professor Quinn, please,” I said, my lips brushing his ear, my teeth grazing his earlobe, “I’ll never tell. I swear.”

“Please what? Do you want something from me, Ms. Sayers?”

“I want you,” I babbled. “I need you. So much. It’s all I think about. It’s why I can’t look at you in class, and it’s why I keep crossing my legs. Because your voice and your nearness make me wet. I’m so embarrassed and so uncomfortable in your class. Just sitting there, mortified, creaming my panties over my teacher. I want to scream or beg you. Or beg you to make me scream. I know it’s wrong. I know we can’t—but please. Just once, and I’ll never ask you again.”

“Once would be enough? I thought you needed me. If you’re really sitting in the front row, wet for me and aching for my touch, would once be all you wanted?” he was taunting me, and it made my body clench helplessly around nothing, made me bite my tongue. I wanted him; the sly bastard knew it. He bit my neck right where it met my shoulder just to prove his point. I moaned before I could clap a hand over my mouth.

“Yes, I think you do want it, don’t you?” he said, drawing back from me. His eyes were fevered and fiery, possessive. I nodded, lips apart, almost undone by his touch. He hadn’t even kissed me yet.

“Yes,” I said, “I need you, Professor.”

I framed his face with my hands, touching that square jaw, those sharp cheekbones. My thumb traced his dark, sardonic brow as he frowned at me. Then he brought his face down and his mouth covered mine. There was no tease, no tantalizing locking of lips or buildup. There was only hot hunger and his tongue in my mouth, questing, devouring. His passion was humbling and exciting at the same time. How could a man who looked like him want me this much? I felt it, could smell it on him. His arousal was as strong as my own, and it thrilled me. I wanted to give him everything, wanted to share everything with him. His mouth worked mine, and my muscles felt loose, my body felt open. His kissing was so sexual that it primed me, stealing my tension and making me so eager. I held his shoulders and then his big biceps, and his arms went around me, crushing me to him. It felt glorious to be so consumed by him, that broad chest and big arms wrapped around me, his hard thighs, his body curled around me almost protectively. God, it felt good.

“Now, I’m going to fuck you on my desk, Ms. Sayers, and you can’t make a sound, even though I’m going to make you feel so good you think you’ll think you’ve gone to heaven. Do you understand me?” he said.

His words went through me, white hot. I shivered in his hands and nodded.

“I understand. But before we do this, can I just--?” I said, looking at him shyly.

“I’m a busy man. I don’t have all day,” he teased. “What is so important that it precludes bending you over my desk and fucking you like you want me to?” his filthy words were sweet and perfect. I fell to my knees, exactly as I planned.