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Professor Marcus Bennett's POV

I'm going to hell for this. I know I am.

But when Isla walked into my office wearing that skirt—that fucking skirt that barely covered her ass—I stopped caring about salvation, tenure, or the ethical code I'd signed when I became a professor at this university.

All I could think about was bending her over my mahogany desk and making her scream my name while I fucked every ounce of innocence out of her tight little body.

God forgive me, but I'd been fantasizing about it for weeks.

Every Tuesday and Thursday when she sat in the front row of my Ethics and Philosophy lecture—the...