The Professor Who Loves Me

“She gave me a B plus, but I thought this was the lowest possible grade.” Lora’s bewildered blue-green eyes stare at me. “Yes, and you know I need straight As to keep my scholarship,” I say, sipping my Frappuccino. “I’m sure that your benefactor would understand. It’s not a bad grade,” says Kristoff. “What did she give you?” I ask him. He pauses a moment before answering. “A-plus. Sorry, babe.” “See?” I groan and clench my teeth. “She doesn’t like me.” “Maybe she’s frustrated that Saint Maria still ranks below you in other academics.” Lora munches her muffin. “Saint Maria. That’s hilarious.” I snort a laugh. “But still, number one is the best.” I bump my boyfriend’s shoulder with my fist. “What does it feel like to be always on top?” He grins. “It’s been the same since the first year.” “Cocky.” I slowly exhale the tension building up in my chest, remembering my benefactor. “Okay, but I can’t keep sending Mr. Pitch excuses. It’s likely one of the reasons why he never answers a

Kristoff ushers me onto the mansion’s front porch. All around us are snow, a bright moon, and a stunning oceanfront with the sounds of beach waves. It is indeed beautiful.I pivot to speak to him, but he brings his face close and presses his mouth into mine. I let out a groan in surprise. This gives him the opening to slide his tongue into my mouth.Our tongues glide in a slow, sensuous rhythm while he skates his fingers at the nape of my head. My heart beats at a rapid rate. Our breaths speed up, and it’s tempting me to go further. I wrap my arms around his neck.God. I need him right now... Here...But suddenly, he pauses, leaving me hanging.“You look so beautiful tonight,” he mumbles.I grunt in protest. “You’re a bad man, Kristoff.”He gives me a peck on the head and chuckles. “I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. I might not be able to stop.”“I suppose,” I murmur hoarsely. “But I love it here. This place is beautiful. Thank you.”He peers deeply into my eyes. “You don’t know how hap

Bewildered, I look up into Professor Sebastian’s face. He’s the man I snatched and kissed in the dark. My gaze lands on his mouth—his soft, plump mouth that touched mine as his fingers fondled the back of my head and lower back. It’s not just in my head. It’s real.But how did he end up right next to me at that precise moment?Stop it, Anya! How could you have known it was him?He’s changed the suit and no longer wears the gold mask.“Really?” Kristoff’s scowl transforms into a beam. “Why didn’t you say so?”God, he shouldn’t be smiling right now.“The professor’s right. I didn’t recognize him,” I clarify, my voice sounding like a sigh.“Actually, I’d like to ask Ms. Scott to a dance,” the professor says.No! “What?”“Ms. Scott. May I?” He extends his hand to me.“Go on,” Kristoff urges, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Maybe you could ask him.”“About what?” He won’t say this if he realizes he is the man I kissed.“What else? About school, of course.”“How about you?”“I’ll be here.

Over the few days after Christmas through the start of the new semester, my encounter with Professor Sebastian has played repeatedly in my mind. His handsome features, infectious laugh, and charming nature all lingered with me long after our little time together ended. Surely, every Whitlock female student would do anything for a chance to dance with him.Coincidentally, Lora and I were able to have a long conversation with him. My best friend also had a brief dance with him at the party. As I suspected, she mentioned wanting to one day lead an orchestra. Lora thinks he’s fascinating.Right now, Professor Sebastian is looking quite dazzling in his semi-formal attire, albeit he still isn’t a fan of ties, yet he’s even more handsome now that he’s wearing eyeglasses.“This term, I will be your professor for music composition and songwriting. I come from a long line of musicians and artists, which may be new to some of you. As the former Executive Producer and COO, I was in charge of the

When Fred turned onto Lexington Avenue instead of my apartment, which was in the opposite direction, I knew my guess was right. I just had a smooth ten-minute drive in a cool car that smelled like berries and brambles. The plush leather upholstery makes me feel like I’m sitting in the most sumptuous seat in the world. Stopping in front of the Le Papillon, I notice Professor Sebastian’s car pulling over the driveway, and a valet opens his door. Fred opens mine. “Ms. Anya.” “Thank you,” I mutter, and then I step down. Ahead of us, I catch my professor’s watchful gaze, observing me. I make my way toward him. “You ready?” he asks. “Yes, but we’re eating dinner here?” I know I asked the obvious, but having dinner with him here is not a good idea. Somebody from the school might see us. “Yes. It’s late, and I’m hungry,” he says plainly. Oh. The restaurant’s head waiter, Harold, welcomes us at the door. “Good to see you again, Professor Sebastian—” he glances at me with slight confu