Professor Ink – Inked by Love Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)

He’s going to put me in detention if I keep drooling over him. Max Stellar is no ordinary professor.

Something caused me to run from the West Coast. It makes it difficult to trust. That’s why I’m suspicious when Max Stellar offers to tattoo me.
I know it’s inappropriate, but I like his professorial, bossy tone. I like the hunger in his eyes.
But does he really want me? I’m half his age and a virgin. Surely, he’s out of my league.
I can’t stop thinking about his dark ink showing through his shirt under the lecture hall lights. I go to him for my tattoo, and everything changes. It’s steamy, intimate, possessive. Just when I think we might be able to make this work, he drops a bombshell on me.
He’s tattooed himself on my heart, but I know I can never be with him. I can’t kiss him. I can’t even think about it. He lied to me, and he’s not the only one.

* Professor Ink is an insta-everything standalone romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************




I shouldn’t feel like it’s the first day of high school as I stand outside the lecture hall. I hold my books, feeling like a dork while trying to seem completely relaxed. Everybody around me is talking in small clusters, or that’s what it looks like.

Reminding myself I’m not a kid anymore, I force my gaze to scan the large entrance hall. There are around forty people in here. Most of them are already talking to people, but a few, like me, are hovering on the edges. Maybe they feel the same gnawing, whispering dread at the prospect of putting themselves out there.

None of them can know about the incident, as I’ve come to think of it. The evil, crazy thing that happened to me. Or maybe I caused it. I don’t know. I’ve never been able to decide whether I should take some of the blame for myself.

A woman catches my eye and smiles with the same shakiness I recognize. It’s like I can feel the shape of her smile on my lips and all the uncertainty that comes with it.

I’d call that artsy-fartsy pretentious bull crap, but this is English Lit. Somehow, I think artsy-fartsy, pretentious bull crap flies here. That’s a private joke just for me. There’s no way I’d say it out loud and offend somebody before the academic year even begins.

The woman is blond, tall, and on the leaner side. It’s like somebody has drawn a picture of my exact opposite. She shoulders her book bag, a green satchel with pins dotted all over it, and walks over to me.

“Uh, hey,” I say, annoyed at myself for the uh.

She raises her voice over the surrounding chatter. “I was standing over there thinking, well, here it is, my first year at college, and I’m alone, a real loser. Then I saw you looking. I thought, hey, maybe we can be losers together.”

She smiles tightly, then goes on, “That was a joke. My uncle said I should try to make a joke. Too blunt, right?”

I laugh, hoping I put her at ease a little. “Not too blunt at all. It’s nice to talk to somebody.”

“I’m way too blunt sometimes.”

I shake my head. “Seriously, it’s fine. I’m Ellie.”

She sticks her hand out. She has jittery energy, almost bobbing on the spot. I wonder if it’s her anxiety bubbling up in her, whereas mine folds inwards, disappears inside, and buries itself.

“I’m Chloe.”

We shake hands, and she leans against the wall beside me. “Have you heard about Max Stellar? Professor Stellar, I should say.”

“The man who’s keeping us waiting?” I say, glancing at the clock.

She grins. “That eager to get started, are you?”

“Honestly, yeah. I’ve been building this up in my head all summer. The first class and all the ways it could go wrong.”

“Jeez, sounds like being in my head. We really are two peas in a pod, Ellie.”

I laugh when she playfully nudges my shoulder, feeling lucky she walked over, lucky this conversation feels so easy. It’s far more effortless than my first conversations with people usually are.

“Have you heard, though?” she goes on. “He’s a real hunk, apparently. I’ve never been much of a Casanovia. You know, the female version of Casanova.”

“Did you just make that up?”

She beams. “Maybe, but the point is, be on your guard. Supposedly, he makes people swoon.”

I’m about to say I don’t believe her. I’m about to say it doesn’t matter because I’m here to learn and nothing else. I had too much drama before when everything went wrong, and all the bull crap stacked up and fell on my head.

Then I see it: women—and some men—swooning over Professor Stellar. I don’t see him at first, just the effect he’s having. Several women nudge their friends and nod over at him, blushing like they’re ashamed of how hot he is.

“I’m going to screw him by the end of the year,” I hear a woman say. Then she and her friend laugh loudly. She has a cheerleader look about her. Maybe she’s right. Maybe she will.

I turn, following their gazes, and then I know none of them can ever touch him. None of them get to stroke their hands up his large, muscular arms. His tattoos are just about visible beneath his white shirt. His broad chest and the lines in his abs are visible too. Or is that my imagination, my hunger?

He’s got black hair with flecks of silver, swept to the side and kept there with some product. His dark ink flashes through his shirt when he strides through the path of the overhead light.

He pauses. I swear, for a second, nobody else exists. He’s looking right at me. He’s staring into my soul like he wants a piece. I can hardly believe he’s doing this in front of everybody, just staring. I don’t understand why. He just looks at me, like he’s locked in place, and then quickly walks toward the door.