Chapter 8

I kept my answer short but Wyatt wasn't the type to clap for half-assed answers. He expected perfection, that strictness of his making him even hotter in my eyes. I glanced up at him again, my heart thumping wild in my chest and for a split second, I caught something in those blue eyes, a flicker of maybe approval, or was I imagining it? It was something that made my pulse race lower, stirring that familiar ache in my groin.

Then he turned away, dismissing me with a nod, his jaw set firm under that clean-shaven skin.

Was he okay with what I said? Did it sit right with him, or did I screw it up? I couldn't read him because that blank face of his hid everything. Part of me wanted to impress him, to see those eyes light up with something more than just professor-mode. I imagine if it was just us, he would lean in close to me, whispering how good I did, his breath warm on my neck before his lips brushed there, his hands sliding down my chest...

“Who can tell us about the causes of hyperthyroidism?” Wyatt's voice pulled me back to the class, sounding smooth and deep, rumbling through the room.

“Emily defined it earlier, and thanks to Jonathan's little pause, it looked like he had to dig deep into his head for those symptoms and because of that, you've all had extra time to think. So, let's hear the causes.”

A hand shot up from the front, some eager guy jumping in with the answer, rattling off stuff about autoimmune crap and nodules. I sank back into my seat slowly, my cheeks still burning like fire, the heat spreading down my neck. The giggles from my classmates died down, but I felt their eyes lingering on me a second longer before they turned back to the board.

I forced myself to listen from then on and really pay attention, even as my mind wandered to Wyatt's voice. God, that deep, seductive drawl could go on forever and for twenty-four hours straight, and I'd hang on every word, my body buzzing. It wrapped around me, low and commanding, making me shift in my chair to hide the way my cock twitched at the sound. I pictured him using that tone in the dark, murmuring dirty commands to my ears, his strong hands pinning my wrists as he ground against me.

The lecture dragged on for what felt like two full hours, Wyatt pacing the front, his white shirt clinging a bit from the room's stuffy air, outlining the hard lines of his chest. I tried so hard to also take my eyes off his black pants that made my gaze drop every time he turned, watching the way they molded to his hips.

He explained symptoms, treatments, all that medical jargon, but I caught every shift in his posture, the flex of his arms as he gestured, the subtle scent of his cologne drifting back when he passed close. My bad day faded a little under that pull, the anxiety about the journal mixing with this raw hunger. What if he found it? What if he read those pages where I described him bending me over his desk, his cock thick and hard, thrusting deep while I moaned his name, Professor first, all formal and teasing, building that fire until it was just Wyatt, raw and breaking as I cum

Finally, Wyatt glanced at his watch, those long fingers of his tapping the face, and wrapped things up. “Alright, let's call it a day. Most of you look like you're checked out anyway.” A few nods and murmurs rippled through the class with people stretching and grabbing their bags.

He stacked his notes neatly, before adding, “I'll go over the assignments you turned in yesterday this weekend. I've gone through most of it though so your grade should be up by Monday morning.”

My heart slammed down hard at that, a fresh wave of panic hitting me. I couldn't help but think If I'd been a total moron and submitted my journal with the assignment, dropping it right on his desk... which meant that right now, he hadn't seen it yet.

It would be buried in that pile of books waiting to spill all my secrets and fantasies of Wyatt's mouth on my cock, sucking slow and deep, his blue eyes looking up as I gripped his hair. Or Bryce, Professor Lockhart, joining in, his hands rough on my ass, spreading me open.

But no, if Wyatt had it, he'd have exploded by now, hauled me in for a lecture that'd end with me on my knees begging him for mercy.

I felt relieved as another thought filled my head. Wyatt just mentioned he had gone through most of the assignments and since I was the last to submit, my assignment would be the first that he would have checked and if he had seen it, he wouldn’t have kept quiet about it.

And that message on my phone? It can’t be from him because he was too direct for anonymous bullshit. That was good, right? At least my dirty secrets were safe from him, for now.

I shoved my books into my bag, mind spinning back to the text. Who the hell sent it? Was someone playing with me, knowing how bad I wanted those two men? The classroom emptied out, with everyone heading for the door and whatever came next. Some would go to their dorms, some maybe libraries and the rest would probably just hang around. .

“Jonathan.”

I whipped my head up, meeting those blue eyes straight on. Wyatt stood there, gesturing with a tilt of his chin, that commanding pull making my knees weak. “I want a word with you.”

Heat exploded through my body, instantly, like someone flipped a switch inside me. Professor Rooke, Wyatt…wants to talk? To me? Alone?This had never happened, not once in all his classes. My skin prickled, a flush creeping up from my chest, my cock giving a traitorous throb at the thought. What did he want? To rip into me for the question he asked me earlier? Or something else, something that matched the heat I'd glimpsed in his eyes earlier? I imagined him closing the door after everyone left, turning to me with that jaw clenched, his voice dropping low. “You've been distracted, Jonathan. Were you thinking about me?” His hands on my shoulders, pushing me back against the desk, his lips crashing down as he claimed what I'd written about in secret.

“Okay... I'll... I'll be right there.” I stammered, barely getting the words out. My cheeks burned hotter, a deep red I could feel, as I slung my bag over my shoulder and started down the aisle toward him. His eyes stayed on me the whole way, watching my every step, those blues intense on me.

It felt like a spotlight, stripping me bare and making my heart pound so loud I swore he could hear it. Other students filed out, chatting and laughing, the doors swinging shut behind them, but I turned left, towards the front, stopping a few feet from his desk.