Page 6 of The KING Review
The door swings open as I’m dotting a period at the end of the sentence, and I look up to catch the pretty green gaze of Professor Daddy Grant King. I pop up so quickly I almost knock over my coffee cup, placed right by my thigh in a pink to-go cup. “Doctor King!”
His shoulders roll, drop, then rise ever so slightly—he can’t help his automatic response, but he’s an expert at maintaining a façade. He’s good at that, and I can understand how people could see him as intimidating as a result—but not me.
“Miss Hart,” he greets me evenly, coming to stand by the central fountain wall where my books are stacked.
“Please, Miss Hart?” I say with a light laugh. “You can call me Neve, okay? So… I was wondering if you wanted to get a coffee?”
His brow furrows, and he glances at my stuff—pink binder, pink pen, pink coffee cup—then back at me. “You already have coffee,” he points out.
“It’s decaf,” I say brightly. “In case you’re worried about over-caffeinating me.”
“I’m not.”
I roll my eyes. “Still got that bug up your butt, I see.”
Grant’s lips roll in, and he averts his gaze for a moment, looking over my head. “Why do you want to get coffee with me?” he asks, and he sounds genuine.
I blink. “Because I like you.”
His eyes snap back to my face, and his mouth parts. “What?”
I shrug. I don’t see why it surprises him that I’m direct—until I realize maybe that’s not what surprises him at all, but the fact in and of itself that I want him.
“I want you,” I say, then I clear my throat loudly when I realize I misspoke. “I mean—shit, sorry, I mean I like you.”
The tips of his ears go red. I’m blushing too, but I don’t really care—that did a pretty good job of laying my cards on the table.
Grant shakes his head. “You don’t know me.”
“No,” I say with a shrug. “But I’d like to. Isn’t that how dating works?”
Grant huffs an incredulous laugh, glancing around the quad, though of course, nobody’s batting an eye at a student and a professor talking out in the open. “We can’t date, Neve,” he says, voice carefully lowered. “You’re a student. I’m a professor.”
“I know. I also know Talan is pretty cool about that.” I read up on it. Their policies are clear, but progressive. As long as a relationship is between two consenting adults and is fully disclosed in writing, it’s permitted.
“I’m sixteen years older than you,” Grant says. “I’ve got a daughter and an ex-wife who hates me. Doesn’t any of that bother you?”
“No,” I say easily. “But if it bothers you, that’s fine. Tell me, and I’ll be on my way.”
He seems confused by my response, and I tilt my head, studying him.
He’s trying to study me in return. I flash a smile, and I enjoy witnessing the full force of it hitting him. “I don’t play games, Doctor King—or, at least, not with boundaries. Please, if I’ve overstepped, tell me.”
He blinks down at me—he must be at least six two. I’m a slut for a size difference, and he’s huge. I’m five four, and although I’m not slim, he makes me feel tiny.
“You haven’t overstepped. I just…” He seems to struggle to find the right words. “Aren’t you—” He cuts himself off.
“Aren’t I what?”
He shakes his head. “You should just… be careful. You’re twenty-six, Neve.” Something lights up in me at his remembering my age when I know I’ve only told him once. “You’d be easy to take advantage of.”
I quirk a brow. “Threatening me with a good time already? We’ve not even had coffee yet.”
Grant soughs out a breath. “I’ve been reliably informed that I use my education and research to manipulate people—especially impressionable young women.”
Wow.
Someone really did a number on this guy.
