She’s dressed modestly in a white tank top, with an unbuttoned red and blue flannel—her full breasts still very much noticeable. And I definitely remember what they look and feel like. I find my eyes tracking every exposed piece of flesh, then quickly snap my gaze back to hers.
“Oh, we’re going to a concert.”
She quirks a brow, her lips turning up on one end. “You? A concert?”
I can’t help the small chuckle that comes out. “What? Is that a surprise?”
“Well…yeah,” she says with a laugh. “You don’t seem like the type.” She pauses, putting her hand on her hip. “Wait, is it like a folksy or jazz type concert?”
The laugh I release is a full-on belly laugh. “No, it’s a rock concert.”
Her brows shoot up. “Well, okay now, Professor Kingston,” she says with humor. “Didn’t peg you for a rock concert type of guy.”
“Well, that’s probably because you don’t know me.” My tone is much too flirtatious, and the smile probably didn’t help, but I can’t take it back now.
She grins, surprised. “Not yet. I’ll get there.” Nova allows her fingertips to barely touch my upper arm as she walks past. It’s such a casual gesture, but the look in her eyes and the flirty smile on her lips is anything but casual. It stirs something in me. “Have a good weekend, Professor. I look forward to hearing about this concert.”
I don’t have enough time to produce a response, because she’s out the door and down the hall before I can open my mouth.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter to myself, walking back to my desk.
The rest of the day flies by, but before I go home, I head to the library. Sometimes I choose to do my grading there so I don’t have to take so much home, and I prefer it to my office. When it’s the weekend, I like to relax, and having a pile of paperwork staring at you doesn’t help you do that, so I try to get as much done as possible.
I enter the large building, smile at Annie who’s sitting behind the front desk, then head to my usual spot in the corner, my back to the room.
I take over the table with my laptop, briefcase, papers, and cup of coffee spread across the entire wooden top, then get to work.
After an hour, as I’m getting ready to log into the math portal and check on online homework, her voice stops me.
Nova.
“Hey, Professor. Workin’ hard, huh?”
I angle my head over my left shoulder and look up at Nova’s full lips stretched into a smile. I hate that she calls me professor, but I get it. She can’t very well walk around calling me Elijah.
“Just trying to get it done.”
“Because you’re going to a rock concert,” she states, humor lacing her voice like she still doesn’t believe it.
I sit back in my chair. “That’s right. So, I take it you got the job here.”
She smiles. “Yes, sir. I have the power to tell people to be quiet and make sure books are put back where they’re supposed to be. You should be very afraid of the power I have.”
I crack a grin. “I’ll be sure to keep it down.”
She glances down at the pile of papers. “So, how bad did I do?”
“Well, you aren’t supposed to know until Monday.”
“Right, but considering my paper is that one on the top…” She bends down and gets a better look at the grade. “Well, it’s not failing, but almost.”
“You’ll do better next time,” I tell her.
“Glad you think so.”
Because I just can’t help myself, I ask, “What are your plans for the weekend?”
Nova drops to the chair across from me with a wide smile, like she’s glad I finally inquired about her life.
“Well, once I’m off tonight, I’m just gonna go home, get into some pajamas, and watch TV. Probably snack all night long. Tomorrow, I’m meeting up with my friends and eating dinner before going to a party. And like any other college student, I will do all of my homework Sunday night, regretting not doing it earlier.”
I chuckle. “I see. You’re going with Lorenzo? To the party?”
Her eyes narrow slightly while her luscious lips curl up on the ends. “Yes, I’m going with Lorenzo. Why?”
“Just want to make sure you’re going with people who will take care of you and not take advantage.”
“Aww, you worry about all your students like this?”
I straighten up and log into my computer. “Of course.”
“Well, Lorenzo seems like a good guy, but I’ll also be there with two other girls. So, we’ll outnumber him.”
“Good.”
“I’m not really into Lorenzo anyway. I mean, he’s cute, but…”
I hold my hand up. “It’s not really my business.”
“I just wanted to say he’s not my type.”
What’s your type? What’s your type? What’s your type? Those three words run over and over in my head, resting on the tip of my tongue. It’s not appropriate for a teacher to ask a student that question, but she left it hanging there, wanting me to bite. And damn do I want to take that bite.
I clench my jaw, focusing on the screen, even though I’m not seeing the words. All I can think about is how she’s staring at me, and what the fuck is her type?
“Do you want to know what my type is?” she asks, her voice dropping to a husky tone as her pale pink fingernails scrape across the table, coming closer to me.
I finally peel my eyes away from the screen and meet her gaze, doing my best to look uninterested.
“I like guys who are older than me.” Her pinky finger grazes the side of my hand. I glance down, and she eases back, hiding them in her lap.
“I’m sure there’s plenty of older students here.”
It takes every part of my self-control to not feed into this
