Fraternization Rule (Risqué Contracts Book 3)
Read Fraternization Rule (Risqué Contracts Book 3) Online
Authors: Fiona Davenport
Tags: #student teacher romance, #billionaire romance, #dirty
Fraternization Rule
Risqué Contracts 3
––––––––
Fiona Davenport
© 2016 Fiona Davenport
All rights reserved.
Edited by PREMA Romance Editing.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. For permission requests, please send your email request to
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Fraternization Rule
Risqué Contracts 3
F
alling for her college professor has turned Charlotte Young into a romance novel cliché. The hint of taboo makes her want him more every time she sees him. How can she hope to lose her virginity when all her peers pale in comparison to him?
What Charlotte doesn’t know is that Gabe Alrdic has been watching her as closely as she has him. The college’s fraternization rule makes a relationship between them impossible. Now he’s done waiting and Charlotte won’t know what hit her when he makes his move.
Warning: This is an insta-love story about a girl who believes in fairy tales and an alpha male professor who knows what he wants. It's a quick and dirty read, but don't worry, she’ll earn all her O’s.
**This is the third novella in the Risqué Contracts series, but each story can be read as a standalone and features a different couple.
Heather,
Thanks for making sure my books don't suck... because we all know that's not the fun kind of sucking.
Charlotte
S
omehow I’d turned into a romance novel cliché—the twenty-one-year-old virgin with a crush on her college professor. If my life was anything like the books I secretly loved to read, Gabe Aldric would have spotted me the minute I walked into his American Lit class. Then he would have fallen madly in love with me and quit his new job so we could be together.
Unfortunately for me, my reality was nothing like fiction. The object of my obsession barely knew I existed, except for when he called upon me in class, which was almost never since he seemed to avoid me like the plague. At the start of the semester, I raised my hand often, partially in an attempt to impress him but also because I was excited about his class. It wasn’t every day a student got the chance to learn from someone who’d successfully published several novels.
When the school announced his addition to the faculty, there was a mad dash by all the English majors to sign up for his courses. We were eager for the chance to study under someone who’d done what we all privately hoped to accomplish someday—hit the
New York Times
Bestsellers list. When we met him in person the first day of class, all the female students had another reason to be excited to wake up in the morning. It had nothing to do with his ability to teach and everything to do with his looks. With his wavy dark hair and hazel eyes, Gabe Aldric was gorgeous. Add in an athletic build he definitely didn’t get by sitting at his computer all day along with a pair of stylish glasses he used whenever he was reading, and you had the dream man for nerd girls everywhere.
I was no exception, but my feelings for him grew deeper as the semester wore on. This wasn’t a mere schoolgirl crush based on looks alone anymore. It didn’t take long before I was equally as attracted to his personality. I listened raptly to all of his lectures, intrigued by his perspective on stories like
The Great Gatsby
and
Little Women
. When he read aloud from
A Streetcar Named Desire
, I almost melted into my seat as he spoke of a sudden and complete love. It felt like his words were directed towards me, but I knew it had to be my imagination because his eyes didn’t land on me. Not even once.
In an attempt to feel closer to him, I devoured his books. Rereading them over and over again during the semester, even though thrillers were the complete opposite of my usual reading preference. They were a brief glimpse into his psyche, one I desperately wanted because it felt like he was deliberately freezing me out. As the semester wore on, I raised my hand less and less, feeling defeated each time his piercing gaze passed me by so he could call on another student. Last week, I finally gathered my courage and went to speak to him one-on-one. However, as soon as I arrived at his office, he informed me that he had to cut his office hours short, with nothing more than a dismissive glance my way. At that point, I decided it was time for me to give up on my fantasies about Gabe and focus on my future.
It wasn’t like I could say fairy-tale romances didn’t exist in the real world since my big sister’s whirlwind marriage was proof that it could happen. Just not to me apparently. It was looking more and more like I was going to end up the maiden aunt. Not that I didn’t love my new nephew. Gregory was beyond adorable, but every time I saw him it felt like my ovaries were about to explode. The same way they felt each time I saw Gabe.
Like right now as he walked into the classroom. I was seated in the front row, the same spot I’d chosen when I arrived early to class the very first day. A spot I’d quickly grown thankful for because it allowed me an unobstructed view of Gabe.
Professor Aldric
. Dammit, I needed to remember to think of him as my professor before I addressed him in class the wrong way and embarrassed the hell out of myself. Like staring at his ass the way I was at this precise moment wasn’t enough to do it. As he situated himself at the lectern, he did absolutely nothing to acknowledge me, but I still somehow felt like I’d been caught red-handed in my ogling. I shifted in my seat, my face heating, while I waited for him to begin.
“As you’re all well aware, your final exam is a week from today and counts for twenty percent of your grade. As such, I’d planned to spend this week on a review of the materials for which you’ll need to fully understand if you have any hope of passing the test.” Profound silence met his stern statement. Then his lips tilted in a small grin, and the sound of female sighs of appreciation filled the room. “Relax. I’m kidding, guys. You’ve done the work all semester, and I have no doubt you’ll be able to ace this final as long as you put some effort into your studying.”
Exhales of relief surrounded me, and I steeled myself against the fluttering in my belly at his display of humor. I’d promised myself that I’d find a way to move past the feelings he evoked in me. One more week. I needed to make it through the final exam and then the distance I’d be able to put between us should help me get over my unrequited obsession with him. It was my only hope because evidently I wasn’t strong enough to resist his pull on my own. I couldn’t even withstand one minute in the same room with him.
“Let’s start with an easy question. Who can tell me the difference between modernism and post-modernism?”
My hand shot up before the question was finished and without my intending to do so. It had been more than a month since the last time I’d even bothered, and it garnered a response. A minute one, an infinitesimal glance my way from his hazel eyes, but a reaction nonetheless. Only a day ago it might have been enough to spark hope in my heart, but I couldn’t allow that to happen. Not if I was going to survive my final days as an undergrad and the decision I’d made for my future.
Gabe
E
yes up. Eyes up. Fifty students in this class, you should be able to keep your fucking eyes off of one!
This thought kept running through my head on a loop.
Ever since Charlotte Young walked into my classroom, I’d spent the better part of my days wrestling with the dirty fantasies she inspired. If we’d met any other way, I would have pounced on her in a fucking instant. I couldn’t though, because she was my student and the school had a strict no fraternization rule. Not to mention there was a ten-year difference in our ages. Yes, I’d abused my position and pulled her student records to check. Not just her age, either. I memorized every single fact the school had on her. But, I was completely taken with the girl, and as the end of the semester neared, I’d just about given up entertaining the idea of letting her go.
I had to get through the class and the only way I could control myself was to ignore her. I couldn’t look at her beautiful face, with her flowing, blonde hair and pink, rosebud lips. My gaze would inevitably drop to her perky tits, not large but the perfect size to fit in my palms. She always sat in the front row, torturing me with her long, lean legs. She wore skirts more often than not and the view brought thoughts of burying my head between them, or having them wrapped tight around me. Fuck, everything about her made me dream about her naked body. It’s why I’d so studiously ignored her all semester.
When I’d pass over her hand in class, barely glancing at her, in that millisecond of eye contact, I could see the hurt. It stabbed my chest with pain, but this was the way it had to be until she was no longer my student. The one time she approached me during office hours, I brushed her off and hightailed my ass out of there as quickly as possible. I knew if I stayed, I’d have her spread out on my desk with my mouth on her pussy in seconds.
One week
, I had one more week of cold showers and sleepless nights. I’d already checked my rosters for next semester and her name wasn’t on a single one of them. At first I’d felt a surge of relief, but then I’d realized I wouldn’t have the chance to see her every day and it had pissed me off. As insane as it sounded, I’d have preferred to take the torture of lecturing with a rock-hard dick every class if it meant I got to see her three times a week.
***
I
t was finally Friday. Halle-fucking-lujah. The test was Monday and then my wait would be over. It was still against the rules for us to be together, but I’d finally decided I didn’t fucking care. I’d be able to do—
“Hey!” My thoughts were interrupted when Mark Baker, another student, called out to Charlotte as she was packing up her things. I’d purposely kept my back to her, but I turned just enough to covertly watch the exchange.
The punk put his hand on her shoulder and I tamped down the instinct to break his hand. “What are you up to tonight, Char?”
Charlotte.
She hated being called by a nickname.
“Charlotte,” she corrected. A smug little smirk tugged at my lips. “Packing, I guess. I have to be out of my dorm after my last final next week.”
What the fuck?
Charlotte still had a semester before she was done with her undergrad. Why was she being kicked out of her housing?
“Why are you being kicked out of housing?”
Well, at least you’re good for something, Mark.
“Oh, I’m not, I gave my notice and am moving off campus.”
Her words washed over me, leaving some relief behind. I wasn’t about to let anything stand in my way, and Charlotte living off campus would make it easier to keep our relationship under the radar.
“Oh, well, if you get done early and want to do something, let me know.”
Over my dead body, you little fucker.
She offered him a small smile even while she turned him down, and it was all I could do to not punch his fucking lights out so he couldn’t see how beautiful she was. “Thanks. But, my sister and her husband are coming to help me move all of my stuff to the new place tonight and tomorrow.” She sighed and shook her head ruefully. “My brother-in-law is a little over protective and bought me the apartment even when I told him it wasn’t necessary. I would have been just as happy staying with them while I figure stuff out. I would have preferred it actually, because I could have spent more time with my baby nephew.“
It was completely irrational, but I gritted my teeth at the idea of another man providing my Charlotte with a place to live. Even if he was married to her sister.
My determination to have her permanently in my house, in my bed, was renewed. There wasn’t anything for her to figure out, she was going to be mine. End of story. Rings and babies came to mind, but she was young and I didn’t think she’d be ready for all of that now, even if she sounded all dreamy when she talked about her nephew. I wasn’t happy about giving her time to adjust to the idea of those things, but I was trying to be flexible. I’d give her a year. Maybe.