The Heat Professor (Nerds Who Knot Book 4) Read online

  When class finally ends, the other students rush to leave. I take longer than necessary packing up my textbook and notebook. I’m wearing tight jeans today, so I bend over my desk to zip the front flap of my backpack. My ass is my best feature, after all.

  I turn around to find Professor Ringdal erasing the board. He wasn’t even looking.

  He never is.

  3

  Damien

  The moment an omega succumbs to their heat is fascinating to watch. One second, they’ll be talking to you about the weather, and the next something indefinable takes hold. Their eyes drift off. They forget where they are or what they were doing. The loss of self can make them feel incredibly vulnerable.

  I finally understand what that feels like.

  The doctor told me I shouldn’t be teaching. A heat latch is a serious condition. Sometimes, alphas who do heat sex work for an extended period of time develop one. After a while, the emotional intensity of sharing too many heats gets to their inner alpha, and they experience an intense need to find a mate. There are moments when I lose myself—when I forget what I was doing or what I was saying. Like when Tatum Bloom bends over to zip up his backpack.

  If his essays weren’t so intelligent and thoughtful, and if he didn’t have such an endearing desire to learn, I don’t think I’d be tempted at all. He must be ten years my junior. I force myself to turn around and erase the chalkboard—the chalkboard with absolutely no writing on it.

  Perhaps it’s finally time to tell the dean about my condition. The doctor warned me that if I didn’t find a mate soon, my inner alpha would take control, and I’d bite whatever omega he felt the most drawn to—with or without the omega’s consent. So far, I’ve been able to keep myself under control, but it’s impossible to know how long my luck will hold out.

  “Professor?” a familiar voice says behind me.

  I’m not sure what to do. I can’t ignore him, but I don’t trust myself to face him either.

  “Yes?” I keep my back to him. I hope he isn’t offended.

  “There’s this internship I applied for at the SLASW. Abbie said you worked there too. I was hoping you could put in a good word for me.”

  The SLASW, Social and Legal Assistance for Sex Workers, is a good stepping stone for the kind of social work he wants to do after graduation. I saw his application yesterday. Abbie would be a fool not to hire him. I didn’t tell her about the pull I feel toward him because I didn’t want to ruin his chances at a great opportunity.

  “Yes. Don’t be concerned about it. I already did.” I can’t reasonably keep my back to him anymore, so I finally turn around.

  He smiles, light dancing in his big, blue eyes. I want to reach out and cup his jaw. I force myself to stay distanced and polite. “You’re an excellent choice for the SLASW. I wish you the best of luck.”

  He steps closer—close enough I can smell him. I’m overwhelmed by his pheromones, which are impossibly strong. Is he going into heat soon?

  “Did you read my application?” he asks.

  I know what he’s asking. While we don’t require applicants to have personal experience with sex work, we do give them an opportunity to disclose on their application if they want to. Tatum revealed he’s a camboy. He even gave us the dates and times of his shows. The fierce temptation I felt to watch his show last night horrified me.

  “Yes. But your application is confidential. I will respect your privacy, I assure you.”

  His smile mellows into a sheepish quirk of his lips. “It’s kind of weird that you know. I don’t really tell people.”

  “I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. But as you know, there’s never any judgement at SLASW.”

  He shakes his head. “No. It’s okay. Thanks, Professor.”

  As Tatum gives me a friendly wave and heads for the door, I understand why my clients pay so much money for a heat companion they can trust. This vulnerability I feel around Tatum leaves me raw and needy.

  I’ve put off dealing with my heat latch for long enough. It’s time to come clean with the administration and SLASW about what’s going on before I do something I’ll regret.

  4

  Damien

  On Saturday mornings, the offices of the SLASW are empty except for me and Abbie. That’s because Abbie doesn’t ever go home. At least on the weekends she switches out her dress suits and heels for a sweater and jeans. Abbie stripped her way through law school, which is how she ended up working around the clock at SLASW. We all have our own reasons.

  She’s arguing on the phone with a clinic in Phoenix, her bright red lips pressing together when the clinic puts her on hold for the third time.

  “I’m gonna kill ‘em. I swear to God,” she says.

  I hand her a steaming cup of coffee. She takes it and blows me a kiss.

  Abbie’s desk dominates most of the work space. Two additional offices are tucked off to the side for the social workers who provide therapy and occupational resources for our clients in Grayson. I pour myself a cup of coffee and open the door to the first office. There’s a mountain of paperwork that I’ll barely be able to put a dent in, even if I work through the entire weekend.

  Abbie starts arguing again. It sounds like she’s going to be in it for the long haul. People often underestimate Abbie because she’s a pretty blonde omega, but I’ve heard her talk circles around enough people to know she isn’t the kind of woman you mess with.

  I work for another half an hour before she walks into the office and perches at the edge of the chair across from me.

  “Good morning, work-mate.” That’s her pet name for me, since neither of us have real mates and we spend more time at the office than anywhere else.

  “Good morning. Did you have any success?”

  She rolls her eyes. “No. But that’s not why I came in here. I just wanted to let you know I hired Tatum. He’ll be coming in today to fill out a bit of paperwork and discuss the direction of his internship with you. I figured since you recommended him, you’d like to be his advisor.”

  I need to tell her now.

  “Normally, I would. But… I’ve been diagnosed with a heat latch.”

  Abbie carefully shields her emotional response, but I notice the tension in her neck. This is a huge blow for her and the organization. I put in over forty hours a week of volunteer work, and we’re still barely getting by. Without my help, she’ll be swamped.

  “How bad is it?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to work through it for about two months…”

  “Two months? Damien, if you had done something with one of the clients—”

  She’s right. I should have dealt with this the moment I was diagnosed. I guess I didn’t want to believe it was over. Once I bond, I’ll never be able to knot anyone else ever again. My days of being a heat companion are over.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I could white-knuckle it.”

  She drags her hand across her face. “Okay. I’ll handle Tatum’s internship. You need to get out of here and find someone.”

  “I could still do paperwork, as long as no one is around.”

  “You need to address this before it gets worse” she says. “What’s your plan? A dating app? Speed dating? Misguided blind dates set up by your parents?”

  “I’m not sure. To be honest, dating has always been tricky as a heat companion, so I don’t know where to start. I don’t normally choose my sexual partners, they choose me.” I had hoped to continue my work for another five to ten years. I still can’t believe I’m never going to help an omega through their heat again.

  Well, I suppose I will. But it won’t be a job anymore.

  She crosses her legs and sits back in the chair. “What’s your type, Damien?”

  Tatum Bloom, I want to say. What would Abbie think if I told her that?

  “There is one man I’ve been particularly drawn to. Perhaps I should try to find someone like him.”

  She tilts her head. “Who is it? Why don�
�t you pursue him?”

  “I work every waking moment. Where do you think I met him?”

  She winces. “Right. Okay. Well, what is he like?”

  Of course that’s when Tatum walks into the front office. He normally wears jeans and a T-shirt to class. Today, he’s in a full suit. His wild blond curls are windblown, and his pale face is flushed from the cold outside.

  I hold my breath. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone or anything so beautiful.

  “Good morning, Tatum. Welcome!” Abbie stands up and walks over to shake his hand. Tatum greets her, then walks into my office to hold out his hand to me. I glance at Abbie in a panic. I’ve never touched Tatum before.

  She shrugs her shoulders. Short of telling him I have a heat latch, what is she supposed to say?

  I stand and grab for his hand. His fingers are slender and cold. I can’t be certain, but I think his cheeks get even pinker as we touch. I’ve been holding his hand for too long. I need to let go, but I’m not sure I can.

  “How about we get that paperwork done, huh?” Abbie guides Tatum out of the smaller office by his shoulder. When our fingers part, my heart aches. This stupid heat latch.

  As soon as I find another intelligent omega I can grow an attachment to, I won’t have further problems with Tatum.

  Before I lose my nerve, I compose a letter to the dean of the history department at Grayson University, detailing the complications with my heat latch, and offering to continue my course online for the duration of the semester.

  I hate to think about what I would have done if Abbie hadn’t been here to stop me. It’s of the utmost importance I never come in contact with Tatum again.

  5

  Tatum

  Abbie Michaels is one of the tallest people I’ve ever seen. She’s also one of the thinnest, which, paired with her height, makes her look like a human version of a giraffe—a giraffe wearing bright red lipstick.

  “I thought Professor Ringdal was going to go over the paperwork with me today.” The way he looked at me while we shook hands was intense. I want to go back into his office and shake his hand again.

  I know that’s not a thing, but I still want to.

  “Professor Ringdal doesn’t have time to be the advisor of your internship after all. I’m sorry. He has a lot on his plate right now.”

  My stomach sinks. Maybe he wasn’t interested.

  “Go ahead and sit down. Let’s talk about what your responsibilities will be for the next few months.” She sits behind the front desk and gestures to a scuffed-up couch across from her.

  “The great thing about this internship is we can design it to suit your interests. Is there something specific you’d like to do?”

  I take in a deep breath and relax onto the couch. I’m not sure what she’s going to think. “Well, you were saying you have about a hundred people who come to your different activities, right?”

  She nods.

  “I was thinking it might be helpful to do a costume swap. Or that’s what we could call it. One of the most expensive things about the business is apparel. Obviously, we’d need to put limits on things people could bring. No underwear, for example. But a lot of the costumes I wear are simply to create a fantasy and definitely something I could swap. My clients don’t want to see the same thing over and over again. We could even make it a party.”

  Her bright red lips spread into a big smile. “That’s a great idea. Do you have any experience with marketing?”

  Here goes. “I might have already designed a flier.” I pull out my phone and open the free graphic design app I use for homework projects. I like designing things. I create all of the marketing for my camboy business myself.

  Abbie takes my phone. “This is great, Tatum. Really professional. When do you want to do this? We’ll need about two months to plan for funds and get the word out.”

  “May?” I take my phone back and pull up my calendar. “Would the eleventh work?”

  She types something into her computer. “Great. It’s scheduled. Maybe you’d be interested in making more marketing materials for our other events? That would be a good way to get your hours in. Or do you have any other ideas? Like I mentioned in the application, this is a self-directed internship.”

  I know what I want to do, I’m just not sure if she’ll go for it. “Uh, there is one other thing.”

  “What is it?” She sits back in her chair and clasps her hands.

  If she works for this organization, she must be familiar with the problems sex workers face, but there was one in particular I was surprised SLASW didn’t address.

  “For omegas doing sex work, heats are still a huge problem. Most of us don’t have mates, and a lot of us are caretakers. Sometimes, omegas will simply take suppressants until they stop being effective, which isn’t healthy. Maybe I could work on something that would help omegas who perform sex work have a proper heat? We couldn’t afford to provide them with heat companions, but maybe we could provide them with childcare.”

  She sighs. “I wish we could. But the government already provides heat relief services for low-income omegas. We’re so overwhelmed with our current workload, we can’t afford to be duplicating efforts.”

  I’m not sure how much I can tell her without revealing my current predicament, but I think this would be a game-changer for sex workers in Grayson.

  “The social workers who are in charge of the qualification process for those services are very… judgmental.” I pause, watching her closely. Her interest still seems professional and reserved, so I continue. “There’s a long waitlist for caretakers, and if they think someone doesn’t deserve the service, they’ll keep moving them to the bottom.”

  Abbie’s eyebrows furrow. “I didn’t know that was happening. Will you put together a list of possible solutions and grants that could pay for those solutions? I want to support you on this, but my current staff can’t fund a program like that without additional resources.”

  She’s really going to let me do it. If she just gives me a chance, I can prove to her this will work.

  She leans forward and glances over at Professor Ringdal’s closed office.

  “Working at SLASW is like joining a family, Tatum. We all look out for each other here. If there’s anything you need, I want you to know you can ask for it. We’ll be there for you.”

  I shake my head. The last thing I’m going to do is blow my chance at a great internship by telling her I haven’t had a heat in three years. She probably wouldn’t believe me anyway.

  Supposedly, heat suppressants are only effective for up to two years before your body lapses into a heat anyway. But there are things you can do to make heat suppressants work longer.

  The first is obvious: don’t have sex. Masturbating is necessary, otherwise your unsatisfied libido can trigger the onset of a heat. But no horizontal tango with anything but your right hand or possibly a dildo, if you’re feeling fancy.

  The second is trickier. Images of naked alphas (or omegas, if that’s your thing) are supposed to be triggering too. So I have to masturbate without porn. Erotica can be fun. Elaborate fantasies involving Professor Ringdal are better.

  Third, up the dosage over time. Which is pretty dangerous, but I can’t leave my mom alone for a week while I’m in the throes of my heat. Hopefully the money I earn with this internship will be enough to hire someone to take care of her. She’ll be agitated if I move her, so I have to hire someone who’s willing to come stay with us—particularly someone willing to be threatened by my mother, who will think they’re a stranger. She can get very creative when she thinks someone’s broken into her home and taken her hostage.

  There’s no way Abbie would employ me if she knew my real situation. With any luck, I’ll have enough money saved in a few months, and she’ll never need to find out.

  “Thanks. I think I’m really going to like working here,” I say.

  She stands up. “Well, I’ll see you again on Monday. I’m looking forward to working with you
too.”

  I stand as well and glance over at Professor Ringdal’s office. I’ve spent many hours fantasizing about having sex in his office at the university, but his office here would be so much better. We could be colleagues, working side by side for a common cause until the early hours of the morning. The mounting sexual tension between us would become more and more unbearable by the hour, until, despite his reservations, we finally kissed for the first time. He’d let me unbutton his shirt and lay my hand flat on his chest. He’d whisper my name while my fingers trailed lower and his stomach contracted under my touch. And he’d say yes when I asked if I could unbutton his slacks because he’d want me too much to turn me away.

  I realize I’ve been staring longingly at Damien’s office, and I blush furiously.

  Abbie gives me a kind smile. She knows. “Have a good weekend, Tatum.”

  I grab my bag and stumble out the door. My fingers still burn where Professor Ringdal touched me. Maybe it’s time for another appointment with my dildo. Back in the shed at home, no one can judge me for moaning his name. Still, the longer this goes on, the more I wonder if I’m growing too attached. How will I feel once the semester is over?

  Maybe it’s better to not worry about that yet.

  6

  Damien

  I don’t leave the office until after midnight. Then I wake up at six and go back. If I can just get through this paperwork, Abbie’s workload won’t be as ridiculous. At three o’clock, she stands in the doorway of the office with the salad she ordered from the deli down the street.

  “You were totally going to jump Tatum’s bones yesterday.”

  I clench my jaw. There’s no use denying it.

  “I’m not trying to judge, but if I was about to jump unsuspecting undergraduates, I’d be out looking for a mate.” She pokes the air with her fork for emphasis.