The week started out so well but went to shit by Monday morning. When you start out with the hottest guy you’ve seen in town basically laying on top of you, the only way to go was down.

I closed my eyes, feeling his hot breath on my face. Nope, it still didn’t make the situation any better. Since moving back to town, I realized how stuck I really was. I was stuck in this town; stuck in this job; stuck in this fucking life.

All because I’d chosen a career that was friggin’ impossible to break into. Basically—I couldn’t get a job, so my dad got one for me. Just my luck, he was buddies with the dean. My boss, a man who’d known me since potty-training.

Fucking perfect.

That was another thing. Now that I was a professor, my parents along with the dean told me to watch my words. In plain speak, they meant removing the filth.

But I liked filth.

Honestly, did they tell the male professors what they weren’t allowed to say?

Who am I kidding? Of course they didn’t. I was about to be a female anthropology professor at a school in the male-dominated engineering field. It didn’t get much worse. Throw in the fact the school’s crowning glory was their rugby team and yeah, you get the drift. If I wanted to see grown men clutch and grab each other while screaming and grunting, I’d watch porn.

“Knock knock,” a voice sang from the living room.

I rolled my eyes and finished putting on the last bit of eyeliner. Without looking up, I knew he was now standing in the door of my bedroom.

“You know, saying ‘knock knock’ doesn’t actually qualify as not barging into my apartment.” I turned to look at my baby brother.

“Ahhh, you know you don’t mind.” He slung an arm over my shoulders and leaned in. “Plus, Amelia totally wants me here.”

My roommate appeared at the mention of her name. She crossed her arms over her pink scrubs. “You’re an idiot, Brett.” She couldn’t hide her slight smile as she turned to walk away and called back over her shoulder. “I’m working late tonight, so I’ll be at the hospital when you get home. Oh, and stop your fussing, you look beautiful. Those tiny little freshmen will be eating out of the palm of your hand. Good luck.”

I’d known Amelia since high school, and she’d saved me when I moved back to town by offering the extra room in her apartment. Southern California wasn’t cheap. I would’ve had to stay with my parents for a little while and probably would’ve shot someone.

I shrugged off Brett’s arm and grabbed my bag off the bed. “Did you want something, or—”

“Are you coming to Mom and Dad’s for the party?”

I groaned. “Of course, they sent you.”

“They knew I’m the only one you can’t refuse.”

I shoved him, and he smirked. “It isn’t for a couple of weeks, do I have to decide now?”

“What’s there to decide? They say jump, we ask how high.” “Maybe that’s how you operate—”

“Oh, come on.” His floppy blonde hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. “Dad gets you a job, and you come running like a little dog.”

“You’re an ass.”

“And you’re in denial. You’ll always do what’s expected of you, always follow the rules.”

I pushed by him and grabbed my keys from the hook by the door. As I reached my car, I glanced back at him. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

His expression grew serious. “I also wanted to wish you good luck today. Who knows, I may see you around campus.”

“Maybe.”

I drove away knowing he was right. I didn’t have it in me to break the rules.

I parked in the staff lot and hoofed it up the hill to the building where I’d be holding my classes. They’d given me a full slate of Cultural Anthropology 101, meaning it would be the basics. Not one of my students would even care. They’d all become various types of engineers and my class? Yeah, it would only be a credit toward making that happen.

My office was tiny, basically a closet. Fan-freaking-tastic. I dropped my bag on the ground and brushed a few pieces of lint from my skirt. I’d had to get a new wardrobe for this job. As the dean put it—my clothes had to be respectable. Basically, he feared women and any ounce of skin they showed.

As the only woman professor in the department, I felt eyes on me wherever I turned. That was going to get annoying. Apparently, I was surrounded by a bunch of old men who didn’t get enough lady love at home. Sigh.

The lecture hall was large, and I was reminded I’d soon have close to a hundred young eyes staring at me. Eighteen—God, that seemed like a lifetime ago. These kids were just starting out.

I checked my phone for the time. Ten minutes to go. Students began to file in, and my stomach clenched as I tried to smile at them. Confidence. I needed to project confidence. I breathed deeply, loosening my hold on the lectern in front of me. I moved out from behind it and even managed to utter a few polite hellos.

I turned to begin writing the first lesson on the Smartboard and stopped when I caught sight of a figure frozen in the doorway.

Gabe fucking Harris.

The man I hadn’t been able to get out of my head since yesterday.

A chill swept over me as he stepped into the room.

“Uh …” he started, confusion clouding his eyes. “Is this Anthro 101?”

Oh my freaking God. Was he a college freshman? Eighteen. I kissed an eighteen-year-old?

“Holy shit balls,” I said.

He grinned at my outburst. “Are you…?”

A few nearby students looked up, and I had to put an end to this right now. I regained control of myself and stuck my hand out towards him. “Professor Young. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Gabe.” His brow furrowed at having to reintroduce himself. Good. It was better if he thought I’d forgotten him.

“Welcome, Gabe. Please, take a seat, and we’ll get started in a moment.”

By some miracle, I managed not to sweat through my silk shirt or trip in my heels. With every movement, I felt his eyes burning into me and tried to push the feeling away. The soccer field was another life—one in which I wasn’t a professor, and he was much older than a college freshman.

I went over the syllabus and dove into our first talk on what exactly culture was.

“If there is one thing you take away from my course, let it be cultural relativism. This is a principle that an individual’s beliefs or activities should be understood by others in regards to that individual’s culture.”

That was why he’d kissed me. I remembered my days in college where anything goes. Students can be forward, impulsive. It didn’t mean they felt anything. No, it was the acceptable culture surrounding college.

I realized I’d paused for too long and glanced around the room, thankful not to see anyone sleeping.

“I think that’s enough for today. I’ll see you all on Wednesday.”

As they filed out, I leaned against the lectern, completely spent. Well, at least my first day wasn’t a complete disaster. Oh wait, there was still plenty of time for that to change.

I heard the door click shut and looked up directly into stormy blue eyes. Gabe stalked closer, and I raised a hand to stop him.

“Don’t come any closer, Gabe.”

“So, you do remember me?” He laughed lightly. “Madison.”

“It’s Professor Young.”

“As in ‘aren’t you a bit young to be a professor’?”

I wanted to laugh at his joke, but a weight on my chest wouldn’t let me. He stopped in front of me, and a smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

I huffed out a breath and pushed away from him. “This can’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“Um, let me think. You’re a college freshman.”

“The hell I am.” He reared back as if I’d slapped him. “I’m a senior.”

I shouldn’t have felt the wave of relief that rushed through me. He was still my student. “Then why are you in my class?”

“Because I put off the boring as fuck classes and now, I’m stuck with them for my final semester.”

I frowned and crossed my arms.

He ran a hand through his dark hair in exasperation. “Shit, I didn’t mean—”

“Of course you did. Everyone thinks their anthropology classes are boring. I get it. That’ll change when we’re talking about sexual positions.”

He stared at me for a moment before a laugh burst out of him. I felt the vibration all the way down to my toes.

I hadn’t meant to make him laugh or turn up the heat in his gaze. I’d only been talking about class. Because, you know, I was his professor. His freaking professor. Sometimes life kicks you in the teeth, and all you can do is spit out the blood so you don’t gag.

Speaking of gagging. Shit, now I was picturing … “Oh, balls. Fucking shit on a shit sundae.”

Yep, life hadn’t seen fit to give me a filter.

And they thought I was the right person to teach freshman. Joke’s on them.

“You have quite a mouth.” Gabe reached towards me and ran his thumb along my lower lip, the same lip he’d bitten the day before.

My breath came out in short gasps as heat pooled within me.

“I like girls with mouths.”

“T-t-that’s insane,” I stammered. “Everyone has a mouth.”

He grinned like I was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “Most don’t have such … colorful things coming out of them.” He leaned forward. “Most don’t taste like yours.”

His lips brushed mine lightly, and reality came crashing in. My eyes darted around the classroom. Classroom! Because I was a teacher and he was a student, and this was so very wrong. I yanked away from his grasp and made for the door. My heels sounded against the tile, and I didn’t pause until I pulled open the door.

When I looked back at him, he stood with his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, a frown marring his beautiful face.

“Please,” I said quietly. “Just lose my number. I’m your professor. This can’t happen.”

Professor Jensen from the adjacent classroom walked by and glanced at me curiously. I raised my voice.

“Thank you for your questions, Gabe. You’ll find many of them answered in the next class.”

I rushed from the room, still shaking, and retreated to the solitude of my little office. I shut the door and sank into the oversized office chair, resting my head against the back of the seat.

My heartbeat started to calm. How did the only man I’d wanted to go out with in such a long time become so forbidden?

That’s right. Because life hated me.