Too bad I was late for registration. I couldn’t get a good math teacher in time and ended up with the pre-cal teacher I failed under last semester. But this was a new me, a serious me, and I had to get on the ball or else I’d be dropped like one.

I only had this semester to make a difference.

Otherwise, I’d lose my scholarship and my future would be ruined. It’d be filled with dancing on a pole or something crazy like that. That’d shame my poor parents who worked hard to keep a roof over my head. University was my chance at a better outlook on life, and I needed that badly.

“Ready for the new semester?” my friend Alison asked, fiddling with her tablet. She had nothing to worry about. She was an expert on math. She couldn’t explain it to save her life, but the girl knew how to tackle anything. Alison was a living calculator.

“Sort of? I just need to pass my classes with a ‘C’ or better or my ass is toast,” I said to her, looking at the clock on my phone. “Hmm, Mr. Warby is late. He’s never late. If anything, he’s always on time.”

The door opened and in walked a tall, muscular older man with salt and pepper hair cropped short. He shuffled some folders around on Mr. Warby’s desk and set his bag down next to his chair. Wait—what’s this? Did I have the wrong classroom? He cleared his throat and examined the class with his strong silver eyes.

“Hello, class. I’m your new professor for the semester. My name is George Dent, and I hope that this semester goes smoothly for you, both in my class and your others.”

The warmth and deep vibration of his voice lit me up like a match. I hadn’t felt my cheeks heat up like this in a while. His eyes flickered over to mine and held my gaze. Oh, God, I was trembling now.

My phone beeped and I jolted out of my seat.

He’s hot! Alison texted her. I smiled and sent her an lol face. He was hot, but he was also more than that. George looked like a one hundred percent man, the real kind, one who would protect a girl and provide for his family.

All the older men were so different from the things slopping around the university grounds. More mature, more everything. Even sex was better, at least from what I’ve heard.

I raised my hand, feeling a bit awkward at such an immature gesture. This wasn’t grade school, but I didn’t want to seem disrespectful.

“Yes?” he said, flashing me a smile framed with a faint shadow.

“Um, what happened to Mr. Warby?” I asked.

“He quit, unfortunately. But I hope you don’t mind my replacing him.”

He showed more teeth and my pussy felt like it was going to malfunction. This man had a pull over me that wasn’t freaking normal. What the hell was going on?

Light chatter started to rise from my colleagues. Why would Warby quit? That guy had seniority, but he was also hard as hell to understand and follow. This might have increased my chances of passing pre-cal now that Warby was gone.

The classroom was already cold, but looking at George made it much worse. My nipples were painfully hard and begging to be touched by those large, strong hands. He only came into this class a few minutes ago, and he’d already made my body spiral out of control.

Too bad I was too young for him. I mean, at twenty years old, I’m sure he’d skip over me for a more mature woman closer to his age.

But a girl could dream, right?

Despite the fact that George was all man, I needed to know exactly what the hell I was dealing with. Was he a difficult or easy teacher? While he pulled out his textbook and began scribbling some problems on the board, I took out my phone again and held it in my lap.

Check Professor dot com was the only site to go to when you needed to see the difficulty level of your professor.

Let’s see. George Dent.

I typed in his name with my small fingers and watched the screen load. Come on, he had to have something. George wasn’t young enough to not have a trail. When the site loaded, it reverted to its offline mode. Screw school internet. It was so damn glitchy. I switched to my own network and reloaded the site.

I glanced up to see what George was putting on the board and jumped when I saw him looming right over me. Thank goodness he hadn’t seen that text message Alison had sent me a few minutes ago or mine agreeing with her that this man was hot.

“I see something else had your attention. I’m jealous.” He grunted. God, he was making me melt between the thighs like ice over an open fire. “How about you give me an hour or so before you jump on the internet? It’d do your future grades a world of good,” he said, winking at me.

“This? Oh, um . . . sorry. I was just trying to check my school email.”

“Really?” He narrowed his eyes. “Check Professor dot com?”

The surrounding students stared, and some puffed out a chuckle or two. In trouble on the first day. Great.

“Sorry, I do this to all of my professors,” I explained, and my voice rose in pitch as I turned off my phone and placed it back in my bag. “Just want to brace myself for your style of teaching is all.”

Especially since I had to pass this semester. Having a teacher with no reviews was just as bad as a teacher with horrible ones.

It was a fifty-fifty chance of failure or success, and I didn’t like teetering on the edge of anything these days.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

He turned around and walked back up to the board. Alison giggled, and I sulked down into my chair. How embarrassing.

But my God, his glutes were showing through his tan slacks. This wasn’t the average professor. George worked out, and it showed. His muscles were going to rip his shirt to shreds, and those suspenders? The way he wore them was completely illegal. He’d make any female wet in nanoseconds. That included me.

There was one thing I hoped wouldn’t happen at the end of class. And that was getting up only to see that I had left a puddle of lust in my seat and a pussy stain on my dress.

I heard the buzzing of my phone vibrating in my bag and didn’t dare take it out. I didn’t want to be on George’s bad side on the first day of class.

The only punishment I didn’t mind was the punishment of being thrown over his knees and spanked with no panties on.

Too bad George didn’t punish me like that. My bag buzzed again, and I glanced at Alison who mouthed, Look at it.

I turned my glance over to George and caught his eyes on me. He was talking about functions and all that jazz. What did Linear equations have to do with a law degree? This was a waste of time. I should’ve been studying about laws and read up on state requirements for lawyers. Instead, here I was, scraping around to pass a subject I loathed.

I had more fun in my English class, and to be honest, that was the only class that held my interest. Even reading the most boring, bland books would pique my interest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pointing to me. Oh, no, was I in trouble again? “What is your name?”

“Um, Cecilia Winters, Mr. Dent,” I said in a soft voice. He smiled and pointed to a problem on the board.

I hesitated and tried to work it through in my head. But the only thing I remember memorizing for the last thirty minutes to an hour was George’s body and how he moved.

I scribbled the problem down on paper and tried to make a good effort.

“You got this!” Alison cheered. But that didn’t help the burning embarrassment I felt churning in my gut at all.

Math was not my strong suit.

“Having trouble, Ms. Winters?” George asked, walking up to me. The closer he got, the quicker my heartbeat sped up.

Great, now he was going to see the gibberish I’d scribbled down on this paper. I covered it up and shook my head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can answer it,” I said, failing with grace.

* * *

I suffered through another hour and a half of class and made sure to take notes vigorously to show some participation. Mr. Dent was too distracting.

But strangely enough, after I had sat through his class, an epiphany hit me like divine intervention. Suddenly, the problems on the board started to click.

I was still rusty and needed some help, but I had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and it was through Mr. Dent’s class.

When the clock struck one thirty, the students grabbed their bags and hustled out the door to their next class or to the cafeteria to chill and have lunch.

“Hey, come on, the cafeteria is doing Sushi Day today! They have your favorite, eel!” she chimed, tugging on my arm.

I looked over to Mr. Dent collecting his papers and readying himself for the next class.

“Go on without me. I have to ask the professor something,” I said.

“Fine, don’t take too long.” Alison sighed, winking.

She hustled out the door with the rest of the students, and I slinked up to Mr. Dent, who glanced at me and smiled.

“Ms. Winters, I hope you study well for this class,” he said, packing the rest of his stuff into his briefcase. My gaze settled on him too long and I felt heat crawl up to my face.

“Um, about that. I really think you’re good at explaining the procedure of getting through a problem and I’d like to get some tutoring from you.”

Mr. Dent tilted his head slowly and grinned. “There’s a very good tutoring center located in the—”

“No, not that. They can’t tutor well at all. I tried them for the last two semesters for math and it hardly works out at all!”

Mr. Dent folded his arms in thought. I needed to push him just a bit more.

"Ms. Winters, you’re taking notes, right? Plus, I don’t have my own office here just yet."

"But there are some things I still don’t understand. And even though I have notes, I still need that teacher help." I took in a breath. "Mr. Dent, if I fail your class this semester, I’m going to lose my scholarship I worked so hard to get. Please.”

He dropped his arms and relaxed his shoulders. Got him.

“Ms. Winters . . .”

“Please?” I threw him the pleading eyes. He needed another nudge over the edge and . . .

“Ms. Winters, I live close to the school, and the only time I have to tutor is when I’m at home,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth like coffee. Cue the swooning.

“That’s fine—”

“It’s against policy,” he whispered and bent over with a smile. God, those age lines couldn’t look any sexier.

“I know,” I whispered back. “I promise not to bust you, but I really, really need to pass this class badly.”

He bent back up with his grin still in place. His cologne wafted around me once again.

“Fine, we can start tomorrow around six.” He took a pen and paper and scribbled something down. When he handed it to me, I realized that it was his home address.

“Thank you,” I whispered, putting the piece of paper in my bag.

Alison opened the door and dipped her head in and pouted. “Hey, come on, what’s taking you so long?” she said, looking back and forth between me and Mr. Dent.

“Coming!” I went over to Alison and looked back at Mr. Dent, who was striking a handsome pose. “See you next class, Mr. Dent!” I waved, and he waved back.

I bounced down the hall, feeling more secure about my scholarship.

But then a small doubt settled in.

Should I even pursue this? Did I really want to go down this path at all?