Teacher's Bet: A Billionaire and Virgin Romantic Comedy Page 5

  I hold my hands up. “This is required for my major. There will be no failing here.” Or banging the professor. What the fuck is this girl smoking? Does she not know how incredibly dangerous that would be, for the professor and the student? And apparently “all the girls” take this Dr. Hawthorne’s intro classes for the same reason. For once, I’m glad I keep my nose buried in my books. And I’m reminded why most of my friends are male math nerds who probably couldn’t find the clitoris without a detailed diagram. Yeah, I’m not like those girls at all.

  Except you are, a voice whispers in my head. I grit my teeth. As hard as I’ve tried, I can’t put my ill-conceived plan to lose my virginity out of my mind. Am I really any better than Annabeth sitting next to me? She wants to bang the professor. I bet my virginity. On the scale of good choices, those both rank so low they don’t even chart.

  My mind flits back to that night with Aiden, and I feel flushed. It’s like he cracked open a part of me that I never knew existed. A sexually charged part that has made good friends with her vibrator in the week and a half since Vegas. All to images of Aiden going down on me. Yeah, I know. I’m pathetic.

  Heat radiates through my body as I recall the way he looked, smirking up at me from between my legs. I fan myself. “Is it hot in here?”

  Annabeth just looks at me with a blank expression. Yeah, she’s going to fail this class with flying colors. I twist my hair up into a knot on the top of my head and stick a pencil through it. That helps a little, but I’m also wearing a fluffy sweatshirt. It is January. I didn’t expect the classroom to be blazing like a furnace. Or my body to go off on an Aiden fantasy.

  Adjusting my glasses, I open my textbook and scan through the first chapter. Something I typically do in the week before classes begin. I like to be on top of things. But my mind has been so preoccupied that I haven’t done any of my usual prep.

  “Hey, Olivia,” a smooth voice says, sliding into the seat next to me. “How was your winter break? You went to Vegas, right?”

  I look over at Brody, the only guy I’ve seen in my three and a half years of math classes that isn’t a total goober. I’m not being mean. Just honest. I’m sure that plenty of these guys will hit their stride and work out how to pull off that sexy genius thing at some point. They just aren’t there yet. Except for Brody. I’ve thought plenty of times that he’s pretty attractive, but being awkward me, I’m never able to carry on a decent conversation.

  I think back for a minute to Vegas and try to channel some of the vibe I had going there. I don’t know what it was, but I was able to pull of sexy and confident. Back here? Not so much.

  I smile at Brody, ignoring the fact that Hot For Teacher next to me is now listening to our conversation. “Yeah, Vegas. It was pretty amazing.”

  He wiggles his eyebrows. “Now I want to hear all about it. Olivia Morrow let loose in Vegas.” The smile he gives me is more than a little suggestive.

  I laugh. “Oh no, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

  That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. If I say it enough, maybe my brain will get the picture and stop obsessing over Aiden.

  8

  Aiden

  Shit, I’m late. I grab my briefcase and make my way down the hall as quickly as I can without actually running.

  I grit my teeth as I silently reprimand myself. It’s getting to be ridiculous. My inability to keep my head in the game is out of control, and the last week and a half have been more of the same.

  Olivia. I can’t get her out of my head. Everywhere I go, everything I do, all I can see are images of her flashing through my mind. Her head falling back, her mouth open in ecstasy as her pussy clenches around my fingers, her wetness soaking both of us as she comes so hard while crying out my name.

  Fuck. I stop at the end of the hall, just outside the door. This has to stop. I can’t go in there with raging hard-on. Leaning against the door frame, I try to focus on something, anything, that will get my mind where it needs to be—teaching my differential equations class.

  But it’s too damn hard. If I’m not thinking about the way it felt for her to come apart in my arms, I’m thinking about the disappointment I felt when I came back from the gym the next morning to find her gone. No, disappointment doesn’t even begin to cover it.

  Get it together, man. I take a few deep breaths and start to feel my tension ease.

  Just when I think I’m set, I hear a peal of laughter that sounds all too familiar. Great, now I’m really losing it. I’m hearing Olivia in my head? Maybe I need to make a visit to the Psych Department after I’m done with today’s classes.

  Shaking my head, I push open the door to the lecture hall and stride toward my desk, tossing my briefcase on top and popping it open.

  “Good morning, class. I hope you had a nice winter break.” I grab my list of enrolled students. “I’ll tell you a bit about myself, and then I’ll go through the attendance sheet and put a face to this list of names.”

  I smile and look up to take in the class. I love the first day of a new semester. A lot of the students are ones I’ve had before, but there are always a few new faces. When I glanced over the enrollment sheet earlier, I noticed that there are not one, but two female students. Good. I hate that my field is so male-dominated. I scan the room, and when my eyes fall on the two girls sitting together, I freeze.

  Literally, I think my blood stops in my veins. Because sitting midway up the stadium-style seating, dead center, is the one woman I can’t get out of my mind. Her hair is up, and she’s wearing glasses and some baggy university sweatshirt that’s hanging halfway off one shoulder, but there is no doubt in my mind it’s Olivia. Those lips, that neck, the wide green eyes blinking back at me in disbelief.

  What in the actual fuck? How is this even possible? Olivia is here? She lives here? Goes to school here? And hang on, my brain is still trying to compute. She’s my fucking student?

  I stare at her for what I’m sure is an inordinately long time, silence hanging over the classroom as they wait for me to do what I said. Which was what again? I can’t remember past the fact that she looks really damn cute in her tortoiseshell glasses. Or that her slim shoulder is just begging me to nip at the delicate skin.

  Something in my face must give me away because Olivia’s eyes go even wider and she gives a quick but subtle shake of her head. She looks nothing short of petrified.

  Clearing my throat, I tear my eyes from her and pretend to look through my briefcase. “Sorry,” I say to the class. “I just realized I have the wrong attendance sheet. I’ll be right back.”

  Dashing out of the classroom, I practically sprint back to my office and shut the door behind me. I lean against it, trying to sort out the thoughts fighting for my attention, but I have no clue how to deal with this. Sleeping with a student could put my job at stake. It’s something I would never in a million years even consider.

  Until now. Because I can’t find the will to care that Olivia is not only my student but apparently even younger than I thought. It doesn’t matter. I still want her as badly as I did that night in Vegas. I tip my head back against the door and growl in frustration. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since, even though the rational part of my brain told me I’d never see her again. Then she shows up here? How am I supposed to ignore that?

  I know I have to get back to class or the students will start to leave, and I’m just about to head back when I hear a knock at the door. Turning, I open it slowly.

  Olivia is staring up at me through those sexy librarian glasses. Reaching out for her, I wrap my fingers around her arm and haul her into my office and shut the door, flipping the lock as I do.

  She notices, her eyes on the doorknob, and her mouth opens as if she’s about to say something I don’t want to hear, her eyes full of warning. Something like, we have to forget what happened. Fuck no, I won’t forget it. So before she can say it, I close the distance between us and do what I’ve been fantasizing about for the last ten days
.

  I tangle my fingers in her hair and crush my mouth to hers, all the frustration and tension I’ve felt pouring out as I kiss her hard, tangling my tongue with hers. The second she gives into me, I feel it. Whatever she came here to say evaporates as our bodies say everything that matters. It’s like an undercurrent between us, some vital force that draws us together. I’m a rational kind of guy who relies on statistics and facts, not frivolous things like luck and fate. But I feel really damn lucky right now, and can’t dismiss the notion that maybe some type of fate brought us together.

  Olivia moans into my mouth as I stroke her with my tongue, nip her lips with my teeth, and hold her against me as if I’m afraid she might disappear. I work my way down her neck, licking and biting the soft skin until I feel her clinging to me. Then I can’t resist anymore. I plunge my hand into her yoga pants, finding her so wet that I can’t control my own moan.

  “Fuck, Olivia,” I say, thrusting a finger into her tight channel, as desperate as a horny teenager to feel every inch of her I can before we’re forced to break apart. Because as much as I’d like to, I can’t hide out with her in my office forever. I have to get back to my class at some point. But right now I’m going to remind her of exactly why she can’t dismiss me. “So wet. So tight.”

  “Aiden,” she breathes, her head falling forward on my shoulder as she grips my arms to hold herself up. I plunge my finger into her repeatedly, driving her to the edge. I can feel her begin to tighten, to get even wetter, and I tilt her face back so I can watch her reaction as I add a finger, stretching her further than she’s ever been stretched before.

  She lets out a sharp gasp, and whimpers the words, “I’m coming.”

  “I know, baby. I can feel you getting wetter, coming all over my hand.” That’s all it took. Two fingers to stretch her pussy and she came for me. My dick is hard as a rock as I imagine how it will feel to actually be inside of her. And I know then, no matter how risky it is, no matter how much is on the line, I’m going to have her.

  I can’t not have her at this point. She’s wormed her way under my skin, gotten inside my head. I did the right thing in Vegas by not taking her virginity. But she still owes me a night in my bed. A real night. And I’m not going to give up until I claim my prize.

  Pulling my hand from her pussy, I lift it to my mouth, making sure she watches as I like her off my fingers. “So sweet.”

  She gapes. “Oh my god, Aiden. Why do you have to be so fucking hot?”

  I chuckle. “There’s my dirty girl.”

  Her face heats, the pink of her cheeks from her orgasm deepening even more. Suddenly, she shakes her head. “We can’t do this.”

  Dammit, she said it anyway. “Why not? We just did,” I point out. But I know what she’s going to say before she says it. Or at least I think I do.

  “I can’t lose my scholarship.”

  It’s like all the wind goes out of my sails. She’s here on scholarship. If it were to come out that she was involved with one of her professors, she actually could lose it. I can’t do that to her.

  “Maybe you drop the class,” I suggest. I don’t like the idea because seeing her in my class gives me a bit of a twisted pleasure that I’ve never experienced before. Student and professor fantasies have never been my thing—but Olivia has never been my student before.

  She shakes her head quickly. “I have to have this to graduate, and they only offer it every two or three semesters. There’s no guarantee I’ll graduate on time if I don’t take it this semester.”

  A valid point. I sigh, rubbing my hand over my jaw. I know I have to get back to class. But I can’t leave without something from her. “Just promise you won’t make any decisions about anything until we talk. I’ll think of something.”

  She frowns. “Aiden, I don’t see how this—”

  “Just wait. Please? We’ll talk later.”

  When she nods, it’s as if a weight has been lifted off my chest and I can breathe easier than I have in ten days. I don’t know what that means, but I don’t have time to think about it.

  “I’ll go out first, then you wait a couple minutes and go,” I instruct her, then I frown. “That’s going to look bad, though.”

  “No. I made it clear when I left that I didn’t have time for a professor to be unprepared and that I wasn’t coming back today.” She smiles faintly.

  “Wow,” I say, arching a teasing brow. “But yeah, it’s probably best if you don’t come back in. I’ll make sure I don’t mark you absent, but don’t start thinking you’re the teacher’s pet or anything.” I reach out and tuck a strand of hair that came loose from the bun on her head behind her ear.

  “More like teacher’s bet,” she mumbles, not meeting my eyes.

  I laugh, then wiggle my eyebrows at her. “That reminds me. You still owe me, and I always collect.”

  I leave her standing there with her mouth open, a smile on my face as I make my way back to the class, feeling way more on my game that I have in days.

  9

  Olivia

  A week has gone by since what I have started to call the incident in Aiden’s office. I’ve managed to avoid Aiden—sorry, Professor Hawthorne—completely before and after class, and I make an effort not to look at him during class. At least, not unless his back is turned. Then I let myself look plenty, taking in his firm ass and broad shoulders.

  I feel like he’s calling on me a disproportionate amount compared to the other students, and I wonder if anyone suspects anything. But that’s stupid. Why would they? Maybe they just think he’s a misogynist ass that likes to pick on the females in class. Though I highly doubt that. He’s one of the most entertaining and engaging professors I’ve ever had, and pretty much everyone feels the same way.

  Except Annabeth. She’s sitting next to me on Monday morning, barely staying awake as Aiden pulls out our tests from last Friday and starts calling names to hand them out. That’s right. He gave us a test our first week of school. He might be a fun professor, but no one could accuse him of being easy on people.

  When he calls Annabeth’s name, she perks up, sauntering down the stairs and across the front of the room, swishing her hips in such an exaggerated manner that I have to lean over to Brody and joke about it. He smiles but seems more interested in the fact that I’m talking to him than in laughing about Annabeth’s attempts at seduction. At first, I was a bit jealous. Yeah, I’ll admit it. But knowing the only other female in your class is gunning to seduce the prof can be a little unnerving. Especially when said prof stars daily in your fantasies.

  Brody leans closer. “You’re doing pretty well in here it seems. I’m not so sure about myself.” He smiles, laying on the charm. “Maybe you can tutor me if I keep having trouble?”

  Before Vegas—before Aiden—I would have been a bundle of awkward nerves at the suggestive tone underlying Brody’s request. But somewhere between then and now, I seem to have found a way to make that cool confidence from Vegas stick around. Maybe it was the way Aiden looked at me, the way he made it clear he still wanted me. Even though we hadn’t spoken any more than was necessary to answer the questions he threw at me in class, I could see it in his eyes. It made me question my sanity because a part of me wanted to have him too, even though that was stupid and dangerous.

  And what had he meant when he said I still owed him? I wanted to ask him. It had been bugging me. But I didn’t know how to talk to him without calling unnecessary attention to our totally unprofessional acquaintance.

  I glance back at Brody when I feel his eyes on me, and I realize I never answered his question. I lean closer, too, not wanting to draw attention to our conversation. “If you really think you’re struggling, you know I’d be happy to help you.”

  His eyebrows lift up, and a hopeful smile crosses his face. Wow. I never realized this guy was into me. Has he always been, and my own painful awkwardness just got in the way? Seems I’m discovering all kinds of new things about myself. Like how much I love Aiden’s hands. M
y mind drifts off again until I realize Brody is still talking.

  “Sorry. What?”

  His smile dropped a fraction. “I just said maybe we could get coffee after class and go over the tests.”

  I open my mouth, not sure what to say, when I’m cut short by Aiden’s voice ringing out through the classroom. “Miss Morrow.”

  I jump, the sound of my name on his lips like that, stern and expectant, making my pulse speed up, reminding me of how in charge he sounded when he told me all the dirty things he wanted to do to me. I navigate the stairs carefully, not trusting myself to even walk with the three-ring circus of flips taking place in my stomach.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly when I reach his desk, reaching out for the paper he’s holding out.

  He doesn’t let go, instead pulling it back toward himself slightly. “See me after class.”

  I look down at my paper, wondering what I must have done to warrant an after class discussion, but all I see is a bright red A across the top. Glancing up, all it takes is one look at his face, and I understand what he’s getting at.

  “Yes, Professor Hawthorne,” I demure, my lips quirking up at the edges when I see heat in his eyes at my words. So he wants to play it like that, does he? He’s a dirty professor, after all, getting off on me calling him that. Interesting. I’ll have to remember that for another time when we’re—

  No! I cut the thought of before it can fully form. There can’t be any of that. Too much is at risk. I convinced myself that what happened in his office can’t happen again. Ever. I have to take this class, I have to keep my scholarship, and for fuck’s sake, I won’t be the reason he loses his job.