Page 79 of The Accidental Dating Experiment

Juliet: You could say that. It’s promising, if a little complicated.

Mom: What happens next with him? Will you see him next week when you return to the city?

That’s one question I don’t have an answer for.

29

THE THIRD DATE

Monroe

At eight o’clock, Juliet knocks on the door. This date is dinner at the professor’s house. She left a while ago, telling me to return to the house at seven-thirty and get ready, and then she’d arrive.

I’ve got a bottle of her favorite rosé, a takeout dinner from Clementine’s, and the professor look. Eleanor’s closet came through, and I found a pair of horn-rimmed glasses with no prescriptions for the lenses. I’m wearing a short-sleeved Henley. By now I’ve learned Juliet is into my ink.

Or the professor has learned it. Whatever. I don’t care. She likes my arms, that’s all that matters.

With Pearl Jam handling the vocals tonight—90s tunes were on the prof’s profile—I head to the door and open it.

She didn’t just understand the assignment. She nailed it. No, she elevated it. Juliet’s wearing a short plaid skirt and a white button-down shirt, open just enough to tease me. Her chestnut locks are pulled back in a high ponytail. She clutches a notebook that she uses strategically to boost those beautiful breasts.

My gaze roams up and down the bold beauty in front of me, who kicked the role-play sky-high. So far, I’ve been the one who’s been play-acting. Now she is, and I am motherfucking here for it.

“Hello, professor,” she says demurely. “I have that paper for you. Can I show it to you tonight?”

I square my shoulders, school my expression, and adopt a stern tone. “Yes, but this is the third time we’ve worked on it. I expect serious improvement, Miss Dumont.”

She bats her lashes. “I’ve applied myself, professor. Can I show you?”

So innocent. So committed to the role.

“Come in. But don’t disappoint me.” I shut the door behind her, then watch her walk across the hardwood in that sinfully short schoolgirl outfit that is frying my brain.

She stops at the living room couch, tilting her face up. “Do you have an office or a den we should go to?”

“I do, Miss Dumont. But I fully expect this paper to demonstrate everything you’ve learned.”

She nods sweetly. “It will, sir. It will.”

We head to the den, the pictures of old-time Hollywood stars watching over us as I walk behind the desk, taking the chair.

She doesn’t sit. She comes right to the edge of the desk, leans over it, and slides the notebook right in front of me, giving me a perfect view of the swell of her tits.

I suppress a groan, but she catches it anyway, giving me a sweet, but seductive, smile. “You can find my very hard work on the first page.”

She’s flipped the script on me tonight. It’s a little unnerving to give up control like this. But it’s thrilling too.

I flip open the notebook. Then, the words that come out of my mouth aren’t words. They’re grunts and growls.

I shake my head, but not in a no.

More of a holy fuck. I swallow, clearing my head as best I can, then read her writing one more time.

Bend me over the desk. Spank me. Then take me. I’m yours.

I meet her gaze. Her eyes are wide and guileless. She can act. And she sure meant it when she said this was a third date.

“What do you think?” she asks innocently.