I wore the shortest skirt I owned the next time I walked into his lecture hall.

Black, soft, and high on my thighs. A thin white blouse with the top two buttons left open. No bra. I felt the cool air of the room brush against my nipples the second I sat down, and the fabric clung just enough to show the shape of them if anyone looked closely. I wanted him to look.

Professor Kane stood at the front like always—dark shirt, sleeves rolled, expression unreadable. But when his eyes landed on me, they paused. Just for a second. Long enough for heat to flash low in my stomach....