Professor Zane's Class

Zane's POV::

"Uhh, shit. Sorry. Sorry," the girl says under her breath as she makes her way down the aisle, looking for a free seat.

I don't know what it is about her that arrests my attention; she is not the first student to walk in late today, and frankly, I don't really care. It is the first class of college for most of these kids, so they get lost around campus.

But something about this girl and her wet hair sticking to her sweetly beautiful oval face strikes me differently. The closer she gets, the more I am able to appreciate her figure.

She is curvy with slim, shapely legs encased in her jeans. An unchecked fantasy of having those legs wrapped around my waist zips through my mind, and I shake my head, more worried about my slipping self-control than aroused.

"There is a free seat here," I call to her, keeping my tone slightly annoyed so as to mask the confusing riot of emotions running through me as she walks closer.

"Thank you, Sir," she says, holding my eyes for what feels like too long before taking the free seat in front of me. I avert my eyes from her heaving, full chest.

Fuck, what is wrong with me?

I never look at my students. Not to talk of a freshman. She is a kid, and I am ogling her shamelessly. I turn back to the board with my projected course outline.

As I stood before the class, having just finished the introductions, a late arrival caught my attention.

The spark in her green eyes, a mix of curiosity and shyness, made me hesitate to dismiss the class. I decided to prolong the session, my curiosity piqued. I turned to face the room, my hands slipping into my pockets, and my gaze was instantly drawn to hers.

"Since you've joined us late, would you mind introducing yourself?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Her eyes widened, and I couldn't help but notice a hint of fear. I fought back a smirk, intrigued by her reaction.

"I-I'm Alex Johnson," she stammered quietly. I raised an eyebrow, my interest growing.

"Miss Johnson, what's your area of expertise?" I asked, echoing the same question I had posed to the rest of the class earlier. This time, however, I was genuinely invested in her response.

Her hesitation was palpable. "I...I don't know," she began, and I interrupted, a hint of criticism in my tone.

"No 'uhhs' or pauses, Miss Johnson. If you want to be a writer, you need to be articulate. It's a fundamental rule in this class." The room erupted in laughter, and I shot them a stern glance, silencing them.

As I crossed my arms, my gaze locked onto Alex's, and I was surprised to see a glimmer of tears in her eyes. She quickly composed herself, her voice firming up. "I don't have a specific niche yet."

Her sudden confidence sparked a strange sensation in my chest. I turned to dismiss her, feeling a need to maintain a professional distance. "Of course," I muttered, but she wasn't ready to back down.

"What do you mean, sir?" her voice challenged, her tone now laced with anger. The room fell silent, and I turned to face her, taken aback by her transformation.

Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes flashed with defiance. I felt a pang of guilt for having provoked her, but I couldn't deny the thrill of her sudden boldness. She was captivating, and I couldn't help but notice the way her black top accentuated her curves.

"I think we've established that," I replied, taking a step closer to her. Her glare remained fixed on me, unwavering. The air was electric with tension, and for a moment, it was as if we were the only two people in the room.

The tension is thick in the air. Tension of what? I can't tell but it is there, making my blood heat.

"Am I supposed to have a niche in my first year?" She asks, raising her chin up at me, she folds her arms over her chest, pulling the top deeper into the fleshy mounds on her chest. Fuck. I hope my face is kept rigid and safely professional.

But I can hear my damn heart beating in my ear as I stalk up to her, stopping only a few feet away from her. Thankfully she is seated at the very front of the class, so the rest of the class behind us can't fully see what is going on.

"No, Miss Johnson. But you are supposed to have a sense of where you are headed at this point in your career." I say, my voice low.

"I do have an idea what I want to specialise in, I just don't think I am ready to be niched down yet." She throws back at me. Unflinching. Wow. I have never met a student stand up to me like this.

Is it crazy that I am very turned on by the fact even as I am annoyed?

"Okay." I say to her, I do not take a step back, my eyes narrowed in on her defiant green ones staring straight back at me, I raise my voice, "Class dismissed. We will meet on Wednesday and I will choose my class assistant then." The class erupts into controlled chaos as everyone tries to get out of the lecture hall at the same time like the room has caught on fire. Fucking kids.

"Not you." I say to Alex who is packing her books into her bag.

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Alex's POV::

"You are a very brave kid." Zane says, walking closer to me as the last of the class empties out, leaving just the two of us. I hear the door shut and my breath leaves me. He is getting too close. And I can't read the expression on his face, it scares me even as it excites me.

"Is this about the niche thing, Sir?" I swallow when he stops just inches away from our bodies touching. Fiery heat radiates off the man and his scent overpowers my senses. All my false bravado leaves my body, and all I want to do is lean and melt into his tall, firmly muscled frame.