Her Private Professor

Chapter II

Coralie blinked awake blearily, sun shining in her face. Her T.V was off; probably her father coming in last night to check in on her. 

She groaned when she remembered she had her first day of lessons. 

So this is why people say they hate mondays.

Rolling reluctantly out of bed, she decided she'd better get ready, seeing as she only had half an hour until her professor arrived. 

After a quick shower, she pulled on a little skirt and fitted cropped top. She left her long golden hair out, the tips brushing the bare skin below her ribs.

She skipped down the stairs, and despite hating having been forced into this, she was a little curious to meet her professor.

"Dad? Where am I gonna be working?" She asked her father, who was sitting at the bench with a newspaper and cup of coffee, ready for work. 

"The dining table, perhaps, darling? I'll be at work all day, so I won't bother you," He turned the page of his paper. "Also, sweetpea, you'll need to bring your workbook, a pencil, and your laptop."

"Whatever," She poured a bowl of cereal, not feeling hungry enough for anything heavier. "Does he tutor a lot?" 

"No, I don't think so, darling. He used to be a professor at a college, but he's had a couple years off. Something about a business-"

"Okay, okay. All I needed was a yes or a no."

She sat down across from her father, pulling out her phone. She skimmed the email again, opening the file outlining the subjects for today.

Ugh. Math first. She began to scroll down to see the next subject, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

She looked up at her father imploringly. 

"Get that for me, Dad?" 

Her father sighed, "Alright, Coralie."

She looked back down at her phone, scrolling mindlessly through her insta feed. She heard the door open, voices exchange greetings. 

"Coralie darling, meet your new professor, Mr Rossi. Mr Rossi, meet my daughter, Coralie Gwendoline Holloway." Her father proudly introduced her. 

He'd always been proud of her name, seeing as her mother had thought of it. Coralie didn't remember much about her mother, except for the fact that her father had loved his wife more than anything.

Coralie looked up from her phone, switching it off. 

She looked judgmentally up at her new teacher, and couldn't help but part her lips in a silent gasp. He was beautiful. 

He had a strong jawline, a straight, firm nose and dark eyes. His hair was dark too, with golden tanned-skin only visible on his hands, neck, and face. The rest of him was obscured beneath his suit, the clothing perhaps even finer than her father's suits. He was younger, too, than she'd expected. Much younger. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five, maybe twenty-six. His biceps strained against the fabric of his jacket. Wetness pooled in her panties. 

She bit her lip. 

His eyes seemed to track the movement, something sparking in the blackness of his irises. 

"A pleasure, Miss Holloway." He reached out a hand for her to shake.

She looked at it, briefly. 

Remembering how she'd vowed to hate her professor as much as she possibly could, she looked away. 

Her father winced. 

"I guess I have to show you to the dining room, then." She stood up, looking back at him. "This way."

His brows furrowed at her very obvious rejection of his handshake. But, moments later, he smoothed out his face, coolly covering up the awkward moment by switching hands on his briefcase. 

"Very well. Show me the way." 

She led him to the dining table in another room, hearing her father close the door on his way to work.

That was her cue.

She spun around to face Mr. Rossi and crossed her arms under her chest. He stopped, eyebrows raised. 

"Everything okay, Coralie?" He questions, a light frown on his stupidly handsome face.

"No, actually, it's not." She huffed. "My father paid for these lessons, but I'm the one that has to sit through a million hours a day learning things I'll probably never use. So, I'm the one who calls the shots. Got it?" His frown deepened, but she didn't give him a chance to reply. "Instead of six, we do one and a half hours a day, and I get to choose what you teach me."

"Oh really?" He question, frown smoothing out into a dangerous smirk. "Is that what you think?"

His underhanded confidence threw her off guard. She hesitated, trying to ignore how ridiculously tall and muscled he was. The top of her head barely came to his collarbone. Though, she'd always been short for her age, anyways.

He started talking again in that low, husky tone of his that she swore she hated.

"Because I think that since I'm the professor, I get to call the shots." He stepped closer. "And I say we do five hours a day, and I get to choose what I teach. But, since I'm in a good mood for once, we can make an agreement." He stepped closer still, and her breath hitched. He was hardly a foot away from her now, and she could smell his musky cologne. "You have to agree to what I want to teach you before I teach it."

She regarded him, tilting her head back slightly so as to look him in the eyes.

"Three hours a day." She bargains.

He took another step closer until their chests were almost touching. She tried to keep her knees from shaking.

Mr. Rossi sighed. "You really are spoiled, aren't you? Though, I can see why," He had a mildly thoughtful look on his face as he casually twisted a stray lock of white-golden hair around his finger, before releasing it. "Five hours, Coralie. Now, this is the dining table you spoke of, is it not? Run along and fetch your things. I'll start setting up."

He walks past her towards the table. 

She stands there, slightly frozen, unsure of what to do. Should she turn around and start yelling at him for telling her what to do? Or should she just walk upstairs and do as he says? 

Recalling his dangerous smirk, she decides on the latter.