Katrina

“What the hell was that out there?” Luka demanded, slamming his hand down on my desk aggressively.

Ah, so Professor Nazi it was. Not that I minded. Luka’s dominant, cruel teacher persona did things to me that made my body ache in all the right places.

“I don't know what you mean, Professor,” I respond before grabbing a pencil and tapping it against my lips.

“You had no clue how to protect yourself out there. Are you even paying attention to your studies?” He asked, his eyes flaring with anger.

“Well, you'd have a hard time paying attention, too, if you had a teacher who looked like you,” I reply, pursing my lips and trailing my pencil down into my cleavage.

“Damnit, Katrina!” Luka yells, slamming his hand against the desk beside me, “This is serious.”

“Wow,” I reply, trying to hide the hurt I felt at his outburst; none of my mates had ever spoken to me like that before.

“I’m sorry, Kit-Kat,” Luka states reaching over to touch my hand, only to be disappointed when I jerk it out of r