On My Professor's Bed

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: Unexpected Encounter

Jessica’s POV

I woke to sunbeams streaming through unfamiliar curtains, with pounding head and Sahara dust-parched mouth. For an instant of pure bliss, I had absolutely no idea where I lay—but then it all burst in upon me in agonizing detail.

Ethan.

His grey eyes as he stared at me over the dance floor. His hands tracing patterns on my skin. His lips on mine, my neck, my—

I woke with a start, tightening my fingers over my chest. The other half of bed lay empty beside me, sheets smooth to touch. I felt my face flush with shame and frustration before I saw the note sitting there beside me on the nightstand in bold, hurried letters:

*Jessica — I didn't mean to wake you. Coffee's ready. Take whatever you'd like. — J*

Below that, he'd scribbled his telephone number.

I smoothed out my fingers over the ink, remembering those same hands tracing over every part of me three hours prior. One part of me wanted to crumple up the paper, erase evidence of my thoughtlessness. Another part of me wanted to put his number in my phone immediately.

I folded the note secretly and put it in my purse before I began collecting my scattered attire and moved towards the shower.

I tried to wash off the hangover along with residual worry in my head that I'd done something I'd regret. I couldn't quite bring myself to regret it. For one night, at least, I'd felt desirable, in charge, alive. Ethan had treated my body gently in ways Nathan hadn't, teased out pleasures I didn't know I'd had in me.

----

"By this point, all of you know that Professor Harrington had to take an emergency medical leave of absence," said Dean Wilson to our entire graduate seminar class three days later. I squirmed in my seat already dreading how much work a fill-in professor would certainly lay upon me. Applied Psychology of Decision Making was notoriously hard to survive, and I had those credits to complete for my master's.

"We are fortunate to have secured such an excellent replacement at short notice. He comes to us from Berkeley with excellent credentials in both academic research as well as hands-on experience in business environments."

One of the doors at the rear of the lecture theatre opened.

"Let's welcome Professor Ethan Gunner, who will be filling in through the remainder of the semester."

My blood ran cold in my veins.

The universe would not possibly be that cruel.

There he was, Ethan, walking to the front of the room in his charcoal three-piece which sat so nicely over his wide shoulders. That silver-shot hair kept itself tidy more conventionally, but those lovely grey eyes gave him away.

I leaned farther in my chair, my face burning. Maybe he would not notice me. Maybe in the dark room of the nightclub, with booze dulling his perception, I had not left an impact.

"I would like to thank Dean Wilson. I look forward to working with this talented pool of students."

His voice—that same deep, confident sound which had whispered such wicked words in my ear—now spoke out before the class in professional authority. I looked down at my notebook, scribbling nonsensical words merely to look busy.

"I have reviewed Professor Harrington's syllabus and will be making some modifications, which we will discuss today."

I caught a brief look upwards just as his eyes scanned the room, and landed on me. The barest flash of shock crossed his features before his professional mask slid firmly back in place. But I saw it. And he saw me.

The rest of class was in a haze. I couldn't focus on one word, my mind reliving scenes from our night together as he lectured through course expectations and research techniques. I caught him staring at me twice, his gaze moving when ours locked.

As soon as he finally excused us from class, I shoved my unmarked papers in my bag and hurried straight to the door.

"Ms. Charm." His words brought me to a sudden stop. "Wait, please."

My peers inched away from me on either side as I stood rooted to the spot, my heart pounding. Once the room had cleared out, I made myself turn and move forward to the front, with the large seminar table between.

"Professor Gunner," I stuttered, formal title sounding absurd after all that we'd shared.

He looked even more formidable in sunlight—the lines etched along the outer rim of his eyes testifying to his experience, his contained strength lending contrast to the uncontrolled fervour I had witnessed in those dark days.

"This is." he began, running a hand through his hair in a disarmingly human way. "Unexpected." I laughed, which sounded dry and hollow. "That's how I'd phrase it."

"Jessica," he said softly now, and I couldn't help but shiver at the way my name sounded coming off his lips. "I didn't know you attended college."

"I did not know that you would be my professor," I replied. "You said you were coming as an executive."

"I am. Was." He breathed deeply, glancing over at the open door before continuing in hushed tone. "I work as a consultant for various companies. I did this teaching as a personal favor at short notice through a mutual acquaintance. I'd come in for business with the company, but then this arose."

"Well, that's awkward," I said, clutching my bag's strap as though I might hold onto it for dear life.

"Worse than awkward." His expression turned solemn. "It's problematically professional."

The idea lingered in the air. Student-professor relationships were strictly prohibited by university rules. A firing offense for him, grounds for possible expulsion for me.

"What happened." I said.

"Never occurred," he said firmly.

I nodded, ignoring the strange sense of disappointment in my chest. "Never happened."

"Good." He stood up, tightening his tie in a movement that seemed more nervous than it needed to be. "I'd not like one night to ruin your academic record. Or mine."

"Yes." I took a step backward. "If that is all, Professor?"

He edged closer, his face impassive. "Thursday, Ms. Charm."

I turned to depart, intending to leave before my face gave me away.

"Jessica" he whispered as I approached the door.

Against my better sense, I sneaked a look. The professional mask had dropped, and for one fleeting moment I saw in his eyes again the same flame I'd witnessed there in his hotel room.

"For what it's worth," he said, voice low enough not to be heard outside the room, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

I couldn't speak. My breath caught in my throat. Before I could say anything, another student entered to take our class. The moment froze. Ethan quickly changed back to Professor Gunner, gathering his papers in crisp motions.

I sprinted down to the hallway, my skin still buzzing where his eyes had touched me. This wasn't right. This wasn't acceptable. This had to be halted before things even started.

As I crossed campus, I couldn't help but recall his statement echoing in my brain: *I haven't stopped thinking about you.*

The worst. I couldn't help but think of him, too.

I was so absorbed in such thoughts that I did not see the person approaching me until we collided.

"Whoa, sorry!" A voice I recognized sent my blood running cold. "Jessica? Is that you?"

I looked up at the face I'd awakened to for three years. The face I'd barely escaped from weeks before.

"Nathan?" I whispered, my past crashing over me in overwhelming shock.

"I've looked all over for you," he said, flashing that smile that used to make my heart flutter but now only produced in me unease. "We need to talk."

I caught sight over his shoulder as Ethan emerged from the building, his gaze crossing over to meet mine across the quad, his own eyes creasing at whatever he saw in front of him. In that instant, I realized I was standing at a crossroads. To one direction lay my toxic past, to another my taboo future. And neither direction appeared to be worth traveling.