WILD THING (18+) - COMPLETED

HIM TOO

It was chilly. Not because of the air conditioning in Dr Harris’s office, which didn’t go higher than sixty eight degrees. It was just cold.

Ben blew out a breath and reached under his desk for his jacket. His hand closed around unfamiliar material, and he pulled it out with a frown.

When he recognized the scent coming from the jacket, he groaned and tossed it onto his desk, reaching down again and this time emerging with his jacket in hand.

While he tugged the jacket on, he eyed the jacket on the desk with a pensive expression.

He wondered if he’d be able to catch the distracted Miss Cooper’s scent from their meeting the previous day in it.

God, she was such a puzzle.

Cara Cooper.

With her shoulder-grazing curls and her bewitching green eyes – green eyes that darkened to the green of a forest floor when she was thinking about sex. The naughty minx.

She’d sat across from him and shamelessly gone somewhere in her mind, to a place that had sent a deep blush spilling from her delicate collarbones up to her face.

Her eyes had glazed over in that way he recognised very well; the unseeing look of a woman on the brink of climax. And, he could swear, she’d been wet.

Maybe it had been his imagination, but he'd smelled it in the air, her arousal. It had taken everything in him to ignore the bait, not rise to it.

Fuck, even the memory of it was making him grow hard under the restrictive fly of his pants.

What the hell was he doing? She was a student, for fuck’s sake. He needed to get his shit together. He only had a couple of months left before Dr Harris got back from her leave.

Surely, he could push through without trying to fuck a student. And, maybe, the smallest maybe, they could even get together when he wasn’t her professor anymore.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself; if they’d met in any situation outside school, he probably would’ve asked her out. But he was her professor. And he had to act like the older more responsible person he was.

Although, God knew, she wasn’t making it easy for him, with her covert little glances when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

And he could’ve sworn that, yesterday, when she was following him to the office, he felt the heat of her stare on his… ass.

Ben sighed and reached for his phone, dialling a number.

“Jonah,” he said when the person picked up, “you left your jacket in my office again.”

“This definitely does not sound like an excuse you made up to talk to me because you missed me,” Jonah joked.

“I’m leaving in an hour,” Ben said before hanging up.

#

A little while later, Jonathan Coleman pushed his way into Ben’s office without knocking. He came right in and threw himself on the couch, letting out a heavy breath.

“Fuck, I am exhausted!” he groaned.

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Dial back the drama, Meryl Streep.”

“I don’t think you should talk to students that way, Professor,” Jonah said. Ben laughed, shaking his head, and he threw the jacket across the room so that it smacked Jonah in the face.

Jonathan Coleman. Twenty-two-year-old Journalism student, Ben’s best friend’s little brother, and a royal pain in the ass.

He let out a dramatic oof when the jacket struck him with all the force of a dandelion cannonball. He sat up in the couch, folding the jacket in his hands then raising it to his nose with a tiny frown.