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Chapter Four

H endy

Very few things or people in my life can catch me off guard and make me fumble, mostly because of my time playing football.

Over the years, beginning back in my peewee football league time, I’ve learned to employ my natural skills of reading people and their potential next moves. I’ve learned how to anticipate plays by judging the field positions so I could dodge and outrun, pivot, or dish the ball with a speed and grace few quarterbacks can muster.

My ability to adapt and remain flexible both on and off the field and in life is what makes me such a fucking great QB.

Or made me one. Past tense since I no longer play.

But this play wasn’t listed in any of my playbooks or experiences with women.

There are no offensive plays or tricks to outmaneuver the quarterback sack I was just hit with when I walked in and saw that Lottie is my new professor.

I follow Lottie—or rather, Professor Butler—down the corridor and through the hallways filled with students, many of them calling out my name as we pass.

After the first few times, Lottie— fuck , I mean, Professor Butler—peers over her shoulder and gives me a cross between a glare and a look of confusion.

I shrug and continue on until she finally takes a sharp left down the main hallway toward the faculty lounge and offices.

It’s quieter here and I’m enthralled with the sound of her high heels clicking against the shining wood floors. I stare at her toned legs…the ones that had been wrapped around my waist as I pounded into her during our one night together…and hell, I can’t help the twitch in my pants as my dick stirs at the memories.

This whole thing is so surreal it’s almost unbelievable. Like, if I told EJ and Killer about this strange reunion, they’d never believe it.

One minute I’m fucking a complete stranger on a ski vacation, with no idea of her full name or any life details, and six months later, here I am, one of her new students.

Jesus, what a mess.

Funny thing is, I remember all the drama that unfolded last year between Kelsie and Hayes when he showed up at our house party and she freaked out over being duped by him.

At the time, I didn’t get it. So what? So he never told her he played football and was going to attend this school? Big fucking deal. Get over it.

But now I kind of get it.

Maybe I should be pissed at Lottie…and fuck it, I’m going to keep calling her that name in my head because that’s who she is to me. She wasn’t my professor or even Charlotte when we met. She was just Lottie and I got a lottie her between the legs.

I chuckle at my internal dialogue as she gives me an icy glare.

It’s not surprising she seems a little pissed at the moment, too. She had no idea who I was when we slept together, either, and no way of knowing I’d be in one of her graduate classes this semester.

It’s not something we discussed that night. Our one night wasn’t anything like what Kelsie and Hayes had. They had a relationship, for fuck’s sake. Lottie and I were just two consenting adults looking for a good time. And it was a fucking great time, if I do say so myself.

Lottie was the hottest lay I’ve ever had. I still think about her a lot when I’m alone and in bed. Or in the shower. Or just alone. My mind will wander back to our night together and my hand instinctively reaches for my hard cock. I bring myself to orgasm with thoughts of her audacious invitation to go to her place and fuck.

Was it more exciting because she’s a few years older than me and I liked that I was more experienced than her in bed?

Was it her smokin’ hot body and the legs that didn’t quit?

Or those low sexy moans and the whimpers she made when I was between her legs, and the way she asked for more, more, more in that seductive British accent?

Jesus, I had a hard on for this woman for weeks after our hookup and my dreams were taken over with images of her gorgeous fucking mouth wrapped around my cock.

I swallow and discreetly adjust my now tight jeans as we get to the door of her office. I wait patiently while she unlocks the door, opens it, and reaches to flip on the light. The move only serves to increase the lust that threatens to overtake me when I breathe in her lemony sugar scent.

Barely three inches separate us. If things were different, I could close the door behind us, press her against the wall, cup her cheek, and kiss the living hell out of her.

But that’s not happening now. Our weird turn of events won’t allow me to live out my fantasy of fucking my new professor on her desk.

Instead, I make myself take a step back and watch as she rounds the edge of her neatly organized desk. She sits down and, for a moment, drops her head in what looks to be defeated contemplation. When she lifts her gaze again, her eyes bore into me. Not in fiery passion like the last time we were together, but in grave earnestness.

“Joel…”

“Hendy,” I correct, my brows lifting upward and a smirk forming on my mouth. I like this side of her—the professional.

As if to prove she will not give in to my overt flirting, she starts again, leaning forward over her desk, her cream blouse tightening over her breasts, a resolute look in her expression.

“ Mr. Henderson . This unforeseen and obviously uncomfortable situation we seem to have found ourselves in is quite serious. It creates a multitude of problems for me. For you.”

I take a seat across from her desk and drop my bag on the floor next to the chair and casually crossing my leg over my knee, placing my elbows on the chair arms.

“I disagree, Professor. I don’t know what problem you’re referring to. I have no problem at all.” I lay it on thick, doing my best to ruffle the feathers of this beautiful bombshell professor. “I’m not uncomfortable at all.”

Everything about that night comes rushing back so clearly in the moment. The way she melted under the first brush of my knuckles across her cheek and the hot kiss out by our cars. How she quivered when my mouth was between her legs. The bite of her fingernails as they scored down my back.

Yeah, it’s going to be a fun semester.

She inhales deeply and huffs out a breath of air, clearly not on the same page.

“Yes, Joel. There is a problem. One that could be utterly damaging to my career if anything about our shared time together gets out.” She presses her lips together, the frown marring her perfect features, and anchors me hard with her green eyes.

“It can never get out. Do you understand me?”

Lottie pauses a moment and places her hands demurely in her lap. It’s clearly obvious she is not originally from the US with her straight-spined, debutante stature. If someone were to tell me she came from old money and was of royal descent, I wouldn’t bat an eye. She’s absolutely regal with that tight bun sitting low at her neck, a braid of hair elegantly wrapped over the top of her head like a goddamn crown.

Her bright green eyes flash with anger and she levels me with a pointed stare. A shaky hiss of breath passes through her lips.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she says with authority. “You’re going to talk to the registrar to drop this class immediately, and we will do our very best to ignore each other on campus.”

I screw up my nose and tilt my head to the side, as if debating the merits of her request.

“No can do, Prof,” I state mildly but with a forceful shake of my head. She can’t hide the shock on her face, no matter how stoic she tries to be or whether she might typically be the ‘ keep calm and carry on ’ type.

“This is a required class in my program and my schedule is locked in tight so I can finish with my master’s degree this year.”

Her expression morphs into something I can’t read and I scoot forward in my seat, placing my hands on top of her desk.

In a deep, daring voice, I murmur the next words in a raspy whisper.

“Here’s what’s actually going to happen, Lottie …I’m not going to drop your class.” I pause for good measure. Her eyes flare at my rebellious response. “During this semester, every time I’m in your classroom, during every lecture you facilitate and seminar you lead, I will be a good student and dutifully take my notes and listen to you speak, participating in all the important discussions, completing all the required assignments on time. But all the while…”

I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows. “I will be imagining you just as you were six months ago…on your knees in front of me, getting me off with your mouth.”

The statement is crass. It’s over the line. It’s inappropriate. It begs for a reaction.

A reaction that comes in the form of a loud gasp and causes angry blotches of red color her otherwise creamy white neck and cheeks. Or she could be turned on, I don’t know. But I like it.

Without waiting for any further argument, I grab my bag and stand from the seat, walking toward the door.

As I turn the knob, I peer over my shoulder one last time to see Lottie appraising me candidly.

“Joel,” she says in a whispered plea, a long, slender hand coming to clutch at her pretty neck. “Please don’t let me regret that night.”

“My only regret now is that it wasn’t longer.”

My wink is the last thing she sees when I close the door quietly behind me.

Then I hear a noise that sounds like books crashing against the door and I chuckle.

Oh yeah. It’s going to be an interesting semester.