Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Yet, I want more from Aria than nuances. I want the real thing. I want to see Aria, lush and nude on the carpet of my office. I want her hair spread out in a golden halo as she cries out my name, as she twists and turns with wet pleasure.
But can I do it? Am I that kind of man? The kind who’s ready to take, without a thought as to my career, much less her innocence? Suddenly, a sweet voice interrupts my tortured line of thought.
“Professor Moore?” Aria calls out hesitantly while rapping again. “It’s me, Aria Nelson. I’m here for office hours.”
With the sound of her melodic voice, suddenly I know it’s true. I want Aria, and I’ll do anything to make it happen.
3
Aria
I knock hesitantly on the wooden door again. There’s a frosted pane of glass in the middle of the door, but the shade on the other side is drawn, rendering it dark.
“Professor Moore?” I call again. “It’s office hours, isn’t it? It’s Aria Nelson.”
Suddenly, the door opens so quickly that I step back with surprise. Or maybe it’s the fact that Professor Moore is absolutely huge, close-up and in person. After all, I’ve always watched him from a distance as a figure at the front of the classroom. But now that the man is before me, a mere three feet away, the air zooms from my lungs as I tilt my head up to gaze into those navy blue eyes.
Because Roland must be six three at least. He towers over me, his large bulk looming over my small one. He seems to blot out the light within, and his shoulders are so wide that they appear to reach from one side of the doorframe to the other. But then he steps aside to let me in, and grins, flashing bright white teeth.
“Hi Aria,” he says mildly. “Just in time. It’s two on the dot, and I was just about to open my door.”
I step in hesitantly and look around. His office is tiny, but it’s to be expected. This building hasn’t been upgraded in years, and the dilapidation shows. There’s one tiny window up high behind his desk, but all it reveals are the green leaves of a massive bush. A metal desk is positioned in front of the window, and there’s a chair in front of the desk for visitors as well as a cheery red rug on the floor. But what takes my breath away are the shelves and shelves of books lining the walls because Roland Moore obviously reads a lot. Even though this is a small space, he’s outfitted his office such that all four walls have floor to ceiling shelving crammed full of all sorts of novels.
“Wow,” I breathe, stepping inside. “Are these all yours?”
He chuckles while shutting the door behind me.
“Most,” he acknowledges. “Fiction and non-fiction both. Sometimes I read some non-fiction, but it’s strictly for pleasure. For work, it’s all fiction.”
I laugh, seating myself in the chair before his desk.
“That’s funny because for most people it’s the opposite. Professional reading is usually boring non-fiction, while people read novels for fun in their spare time.”
Roland quirks a grin at me and takes a seat behind his desk. The light in the office is bright, but it’s warm at the same time and casts his skin in shades of bronze. My mouth goes dry when I see the slight vee of chest revealed at the collar of his shirt, and the strong neck rising up above it. Oh my gosh, am I actually going daffy at the sight of a man’s neck? Am I that desperate?
The truth is, yes. Because while Elisa drags me to a lot of parties, I don’t exactly date. Sure, there are boys hovering around at the edges of my life, and I even went with George Littles to that fraternity dance last year. But nothing happened because George was too awkward. He kept trying to carry a conversation, but puberty came late for him and his voice would crack embarrassingly in the middle of every other sentence. By the end of the night, I think he was happy to see me go, if only so that he could go back to his room and let his vocal cords relax.
So the truth is that I don’t really date here at the University of Rhode Island. Not that I want to. The boys that Elisa brings home when she thinks I’m sleeping are gross. They moan and bump around in her tiny twin bed across the room, and most times, I pretend I’m asleep. There’s nothing sexy about teenage boys amped up high on testosterone, I tell you. The longest they can last is about three minutes, and that’s being generous.
But Professor Moore is the real thing. This is no adolescent boy who’s growing into his features. This is a true alpha male, with a piercing blue gaze, and a sense of knowingness about him. I can already tell that Roland knows his way around women from the commanding yet relaxed way he sits in his chair. Even the idle thrum of his fingertips on the metal desktop reminds me that I’m here to see him, and that he’s the one in charge.