His words roll over me sending a thrill straight through me. I hate the way his voice affects me. It doesn't matter how much I tell myself not to let it, it does. My neck heats at the biting sound of his words.

"Shouldn't you be working on your paper?" he asks with a smirk.

"You mean the paper you said I couldn't rewrite?"

The words fall from my mouth in a heated flurry. Am I really standing here drunk, arguing with my professor? This is all very real and he's definitely standing there looking handsome as hell. He isn't wearing a dress shirt and sweater vest like the other day. Tonight he's coated in dark wash jeans, a tight black shirt and a leather jacket. My gaze wanders from his toned chest muscles to his wave of brown locks brushed back. Unlike most of the guys I've met on campus, Professor Grant is classically handsome. And I'm not talking about some hipster with an ironic beard who buys vintage clothes handsome. No, somehow, my irritatingly good-looking professor pulls off a leather jacket and a sweater vest like he's mother-fucking James Dean, instead of Mr. Roger's.

The really irritating bit is that if he decided to add some loafers, it would still do it for me. I'm halfway to responding with my half-ass attempt at something witty but Vicky's voice cuts through the air with a tone that would make most guys run for the hills.

"She's taking a much needed break since her asshole professor has been riding her ass."

I elbow Vicky, cutting her sentence short. Irritation flares across her face as she silently scolds me with her gaze. My roomie, the shy silent type, is now a lot less willing to take bullshit from anyone.

Professor Grant studies me with disinterest. I'm sure he's just expecting me to cower in fear in front of him like other students must do, but instead I straighten my shoulders and point my chin up. I'm not going to let him make me feel inferior. I may only be a student to him but I help pay his salary. Or rather my parents do.

"Hey Parker, who are your friends?"

Parker? His name is Parker?

A tall, blonde hunk with an easy smile approaches Vicky and me as we stand inches from the dance floor. His smooth voice calls to us over Professor Grant's shoulder. The handsome stranger flashes us a bright smile that reaches to his eyes. His gorgeous green eyes. There's a strange similarity between the stranger and Professor Grant.

"Derrick, this is my student Ms. Wilde and…"

His eyes glance toward Vicky with disdain.

"I'm Vicky, Ms. Wilde's bestie," she says, reaching out to shake Derrick's hand. I suppress a grin watching my bestie's eyes light up like she was just served a delicious brownie a la mode. Derrick's smile widens as he and Vicky shamelessly eye-fuck each other.

"Lovely to meet you. I hope you're not one of my brother's students."

Vicky laughs, pushing back a lock of hair behind her ear. Watching the two is like watching the beginning of a RomCom. I'm almost sickened at how adorable they are looking at each other. I guess I'm the Carrie Fisher in this scenario.

"No, thankfully not, but Josie is."

Derrick's gaze flashes to me with a sympathetic smile. If he's related to Professor Grant I'm sure he already knows how much of a dick he can be. I almost feel sorry for him because at least I don't I'm not related to the dude. Which is probably a good thing because the way Professor Grant is looking at me is anything but familial.

"You do know I'm standing right here," he says with irritation.

I bite back a laugh at the thought of someone actually being able to this ego-centric man feel inferior. I'm surprise the earth hasn't been thrown off its axis because of the size of his ego.

"So, what are you ladies up to tonight? Making trouble?" Derrick says, slapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. A grimace spreads across Professor Grant's face. Despite how much I would love to continue watching my professor squirm, I'm not interested in getting to know him outside the classroom.

"Always."

If Vicky's smile could get any wider, the rest of her face would disappear.

"We're actually here to dance. Would you guys like to join us?" she adds.

Professor Grant begins to say,"we should be going-"

"We would love to," Derrick interrupts. The tension between the two brothers goes right over Vicky's head but it doesn't get by me.

"Shall we?" Derrick asks, holding out his hand.

The man's soft eyes fall to my best friend. She turns to me with an expression that says she's over the moon. A bright blush spreads across her cheeks as she waits for my approval. We've always had one a rule about going to the club. We always leave together. I get the feeling that we might we breaking that rule tonight.

"Go," I smile.

She pushes her glasses up as if trying to get a better view of the hunk in front of her. Vicky, even if you wipe the hell out of those glasses he's not disappearing.

"Let's go," she practically squeaks. I bite back a laugh trying hard not to giggle at my friend's demure manner.

"Have fun," I laugh, mentally shaking my head at my oblivious friend. Her eyes widen as she glances at me and then at the man beside her with green-honey colored eyes. He pulls her next to him, ready to take her to the dance floor. A sliver of envy hits me as I realize they're leaving me behind with Professor Grant, who's remained silent this entire time.

"Wait," Vicky says, sounding unconvinced. She looks back at me. I signal her to go and have fun as a gentle reminder that I won't vanish into the crowd.

"Derrick, I'm leaving now." The words are uttered by a voice dripping with distain. "Take a cab home."

My gaze turns to Professor Grant as he stands to my left. He stares directly at his brother, completely ignoring my presence. I'm privy only to a side view of his shoulders and the dark stubble on his square jaw.

Rude.

"Parker, stay. Enjoy tonight."

Her scoff's at his Derrick's suggestion despite the pleading look in his eyes. It's the same look you give your wingman when he's about to bail because he got the ugly chick.

"Nothing in the world could tempt me to suffer through another depressing song. Enjoy your company," he says.

"Maybe you could ask dance with Josie?" Vicky says just as he's about to turn. "I'm sure she would love the company."

My cheeks heat at her suggestion. Love the company? Not ever. I'm sure he doesn't even like to dance and that's a dealbreaker in my book. Besides, he's my professor. I'm not that drunk. Professor Grant turns and fixes me with his gaze. The man who I've been thinking about all night is standing right in front of me. Professor Grant is tall with dark brown hair and a jawline sculpted by the Greek Gods. I hate him for it.

Bright green eyes pierce me with an expression of annoyance that sends a startling amount of heat to my belly. What did I do to deserve his animosity? All I asked for the other day was a chance to rewrite my paper.

I'm tempted to throw Vicky a glare for even suggesting a dance with him, it's obvious this man has issues. I'm just about to object when his voice stops me yet again.

"No, I'm afraid not."

My cheeks burn as I swallow the lump in my throat. Well this is utterly embarrassing.

"Parker," Derrick begins. "C'mon, you can't stand here all night."

"I don't see any reason to dance, if that's what you want to call it. It's more like mating season in here."

Derrick turns toward me with an expression of sympathy.

"I apologize on behalf of my brother he's a bit of an asshole. As of lately, he prefers his own company."

"It might do him some good to actually get laid," I mutter.

Vicky's audible gasp is my first indication that I've spoken to loud. The second is the coaxing sound of the arrogant man's voice speaking inches from my ear.

"Is that an offer?" His quick-witted reply sends an irritatingly delicious shiver up my body. I peek up at him all too aware of the heated gaze he wears. Suddenly the club feels uncomfortably stuffy. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.

"You must live a sad life that you prowl the local college bar for women."

"Does it bother you that I'm looking at other women?"

Irritation hits me like a match igniting a fire. If he thinks I have any concern for him and other women he's an idiot. He's my professor not my boyfriend.

"I'm leaving," I declare.

Vicky turns to stop me but I walk past her and head out the back of the club. To my dismay, it's raining. Fuck! The downpour soaks me from head to toe within a matter of seconds. I'm briefly blinded by droplets of water and mascara smearing in my eye. Something yanks me backwards and the sound of the back door opening fills my ear. I'm practically sputtering when I look up to see Professor Grant staring down at me.

He's wet and his chest his heaving like he just ran.

I catch sight of my reflection in one of the hallway mirrors and cringe. I'm a wet raccoon who was just rejected by an older man.

"I hate you," I say, turning to Professor Grant.

He stills behind me.

"What?"

"I hate you."

A deafening silence fills the space between us as his gaze takes me in. A flicker of emotion passes his face and I'm immediately hit with a twinge of regret. Hate is a very strong word for how I feel about him. Attraction is a better word. I move to put space between us but he grabs me from behind.

"Show me how much you hate me," he says, practically growling in my ear. His hand snakes around my neck as his lips graze my ear. "Your tits seems to say otherwise."

I gasp at my reflection in the hallway mirror and the arousal of my breasts on full display. Parker stands behind me, his hand falling to my waist and the other inching down my dress. HIs eyes never leave mine even as I feel him pulling at the hem of my dress. A moan hits my lips as his fingers slide between my thighs, pushing my legs apart.

"Parker?" A voice echoes down the hallway.

Without warning Professor Grant releases me from his touch. Fuck. My whole body aches to be touched. To be caressed by him.

"Goodnight, Ms. Wilde." His breath is on my neck and then like a ghost he's gone before I even have the chance to tell him to stop.

To tell him touch me again. To pet me until I see stars.