I’ve been in his classes since sophomore year, which was also when this incessant schoolboy crush started. Specifically, when I saw him outside of school for the first time. If I thought his professor look was hot, it’s got nothing on his out-of-office look. Christ Almighty.

He’s night and day. Light and dark. Yin and fucking yang.

Outside of school, he’s all leather, tight jeans, combat boots, and badassery. And it fucking works for him. Watching him dance with his wife or girlfriend, or whoever the fuck that woman was, was enthralling. The way his hips moved effortlessly with hers. The way his large man hands groped her in a way that was innocent yet walked the line to inappropriate. And hell, the way his jeans fit to every curvature of his thighs and ass.

That fucking ass…

What I wouldn’t give to see him stripped down, completely naked, miles of golden tan and muscular skin on display for me. Every divot, every groove, every wide plain, just waiting—begging—for my tongue and touch.

“Mr. DeMarco?”

Shit. I didn’t even realize I had zoned out. Stone—err, I mean Professor Philips—is standing over me, a perturbed look on his face, and a stack of papers in his hand.

“Sorry about that. What’s up?”

His lip curls into a crooked grin. “No worries. I wanted to see if you could work on grading these for me?”

“Yeah. Of course. I’ll get started on them right away.”

“Thanks, Cash.” He walks back to his desk as I shamelessly check out his tight ass wrapped up in his navy-blue tailored slacks. My lip is sucked between my teeth as I envision sinking my teeth into that ass instead.

Stop. I fucking refuse to get another boner in class.

Bringing my attention back to the classroom, my gaze lands on a set of eyes already watching me. My face heats and a smile splits on my face as my buddy, Weston, pins me with a knowing look. He most definitely caught me checking out the professor. My attraction to Stone is no secret amongst our friends, and they all enjoy giving me shit about it.

He picks up his phone. Seconds later, mine is buzzing in my pocket.

Weston: You’re so obvious.

Me: Fuck off. Only to you, because you know.

Weston: No. Anyone with a working set of eyes.

Me: Fuck off. And get back to work.

Weston: *eye roll emoji*

This is our senior year, which for most of my friends—no, all of them, actually—means they’re almost done entirely with college. Not me, though. Next fall, I’ll start my graduate program. I don’t want to take any extra time off between undergrad graduation and starting that journey. I’m trying to get my PhD as quickly as possible, so I can start teaching.