Comfort Zone (Awkward Love 4)

Focus, Becca. Now is not the time to be fantasizing about him.

“I wanted to speak with you for a moment about the internal instant messaging service you love to abuse so much.”

My heart thumps in my chest as I force myself to swallow.

“What about it?” I finally manage to ask.

He smiles at me, those electric blue eyes burning through me. My skin goes hot as I shuffle on my feet, waiting for him to tell me what the hell this is all about. A horrible thought hits me. I hope he’s not cutting me off. I shudder at the thought.

“I’m an administrator, Becca. That means every single text sent within that system pops up on my screen. Most of them I ignore, but every now and then one captures my attention.” His eyes twinkle as he stares at me. “Oddly enough, the ones that stand out are nearly always yours.”

I stare at him, my eyes wide. Is he fucking kidding me?

“Is that even legal?” I ask, my voice coming out a strangled growl. “Surely that’s an invasion of my privacy.”

“No, not when you signed a disclaimer on the first day of class,” he reminds me.

He stands up and walks around to the front of his desk, parking his ass right in front of me. He’s within my reach, which means there’s a fifty-fifty chance of me doing something stupid, like reaching out to touch him. I cross my arms over my chest, just in case, because if today has established anything, it’s that I’m stupid enough to unconsciously stroke his cock through his pants or something.

“On that first day, I went through the terms of use in extreme detail because I wanted everyone to be aware those messages are filtered through my system. I said it twice, but you obviously weren’t listening.” He turns around and grabs a file, flicking through it until he reaches a certain page. “Your signature?” he asks, holding it up.

My heart pounds as I nod. How did I miss that? I was probably too busy messaging Amy. I drop my gaze, beyond embarrassed. It’s a strange feeling, because I’m usually the cause of this kind of humiliation. All I can think about are the hundreds of embarrassing, inappropriate, and often downright weird messages that I’d sent Amy during his class. I close my eyes and swallow, my heart pounding, because I fail to see how this can get any worse.

“Look, I’m not telling you to stop messaging your friends—I just wanted you to be aware that I could see them.” He pauses, the tiniest smile visible on his lips. “Since so many of them involve me.”

“Is that all?” I whisper.

I don’t want to stand here making small talk with him. I want to get the fuck out of here and never speak about this moment again. Ever. Only I’m not convinced that my mind is ready to let me forget about this just yet.

“Sure.” He studies me for a moment, before continuing. “It’s the weekend. I’m sure you’ve got a very full schedule planned. Just make sure you squeeze in some study time, okay?”

I smile tightly and then turn around, quickly making a break for the door. Just as I touch the handle, he calls out to me.

“Ms. Chambers? One more thing.”

I cringe and force myself to smile as I turn around to face him again. I’m so embarrassed, it’s not funny. How could I sign something when I had no idea what it was? God, how fucking stupid can I be? Who knows what else I have unwittingly signed over the years.

“Yes?”

“While I appreciate your commitment to trying new things, I can assure you that no tongue”—he pauses— “not even yours, will ever be going near my asshole.”

Oh God. I want to die.

His eyes flicker with amusement as I struggle to breathe.

“Of course, I have no control over whether you masturbate in public, but I suggest if you do go down that path, you choose a warm night. The last thing you want to end up with is a cold.”

This is not happening.

The way he’s looking at me, I might as well just drop the skinny jeans it took me an hour to get into and get myself off right here in front of him. It’s obvious he’s imagining it anyway. I force myself to keep eye contact, because if I lose that, then I’m done.

“Thank you, Professor Sullivan.”The second I get to my car, I call Amy. I’m miffed that she didn’t wait for me, but I get over it pretty fast, mainly because I need to unload all of this on somebody who’ll understand. There’s no better candidate than the person who put me in this position in the first place.

“So, did he throw you down on his desk and fuck you up the ass?” she teases.