Dirty Professor Read Online Free

farmhouses set back from the road. My mom keeps pushing my dad to buy property out here. I hope they don't do it until after I graduate, or else they'll be in town every weekend and breathing down my neck.
    Chase's house is quintessential Pacific Northwest-- tan shingles, lots of glass, lots of trees-- so many that you can't even see much of the house from the street, which is probably why he chose it. I pull up to the gate and tap in the code he gave me, and a few seconds later, I slow to a stop in front of the enormous double doors.
    A tall figure is silhouetted behind the translucent glass doors. When I alight from my SUV, one of the front doors opens and Chase Brooks steps onto the porch, clad in jeans, a white T-shirt, and socks. He looks like he could be any regular guy just hanging around his house. Well, any regular seriously hot guy hanging around his own house.
    "Thanks for coming," he greets me. He flashes a smile that I definitely didn't see back in his office at school, his teeth perfectly straight and gleaming white. "Sorry this is short notice. I just thought about our conversation a lot after you left, and I decided to see if you were up for a do-over."
    "I'll consider it," I tell him, and his bright blue eyes alight with something I can’t put my finger on, almost like he sees me as a challenge. Is this the same guy who unceremoniously dismissed me outright before even reading my writing samples? If I wasn't standing here on his front steps beholding his friendly grin, with the same perfect nose, same strong jaw and deep dimples beneath those same ice blue eyes, I wouldn't believe it myself.
    The house is even more stunning on the inside. Everything is exposed wood and beams, and the massive windows frame perfect swaths of evergreen forest and mountains. The living room is open so I can see out the windows on both sides of the house, and I notice the backyard blends into the forest. It feels like a contemporary ski lodge, and the fire in the grand stone fireplace twists and burns and pops, casting a glow on the room. And on Chase, who looks unfathomably hot striding to the fully stocked bar across the gargantuan living room and plucking an opened wine bottle from where it sits on the bar.
    I take a seat on the L-shaped couch, and Chase joins me, seating himself on the adjacent section. Not quite facing me, but not next to me, either. I briefly wonder what it would be like if he did sit beside me, then shove that thought away. I need in this class. That's why I'm here. My heart is thrumming a staccato beat against my rib cage, and I will it to calm down.
    "I like a nice Spanish red," he says, pouring two goblets and handing one to me. "Don't you?"
    "Definitely," I fib, even though most wines taste the same to me. Oh, hell. I'm not about to start pretending now. "I mean, I don't know."
    "Oh?"
    "I'm not that experienced. With wine," I add hastily, hoping he doesn't notice the blush coating my cheeks.
    "You're a good girl," he says, with the tiniest smirk indicating he does notice.
    I half-shrug, not really wanting that label but knowing it's accurate. "The good girl bit got me into Noland, so there's that."
    "And Noland is grateful." Chase's eyes smile at me above the rim of his wine glass.
    I wonder if he's grateful. I shouldn't care, after being rejected from his class, but I can't help hoping so.
    "Should..." I wonder how to get him to read my stuff without interrupting this chillaxing thing he's doing. "Should we go over my work?"
    "We'll get to that." He sips his wine and observes me, but his gaze isn't condescending or intimidating like it was in his office. It's more searching, like he's genuinely trying to learn more about me.
    "I like this music," I announce, not sure what else to say if we're not going to talk about my writing yet.
    "Spanish guitar. Goes with the wine."
    "It reminds me of Gaudi's Curse," I say. Chase's eyebrows arch up in interest at my mention of his tenth book. "The movie, I mean. It