Shuttered Affections (Cornerstone #1)

Chapter Two

"His gray eyes were dancing with serious amusement—such a walking contradiction."

The man casually standing in front of the class was so young and attractive—very attractive—infuriatingly attractive.

He was still wearing that smug grin while leaning his ass against the desk. His arms crossing over his chest caused his muscles to strain against the white, button-up shirt he so casually wore. His black slacks trailed down his long legs as he overlapped one ankle on the other and lounged against the sturdy piece of furniture.

What I wouldn't give to be that desk right now.

All I could do was nod and blink rapidly, my eyes matching my heart rate. I definitely didn't trust my voice as irritation and embarrassment began to boil beneath my skin.

I wanted to glare at him with a venomous look so he knew of my distaste for his lack of parking courtesy. But seeing as he was my new professor and, seriously, the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen, I just kept my head down. In a daze, I took my seat quickly.

Crossing my arms around myself, I attempted not to look as upset and uncomfortable as I felt.

Glancing up in his direction to see why he hadn't continued talking, I realized he was still staring at me. Crawling further into my hole, I quickly looked away, burying my chin in my chest. Noticing my cleavage was as obvious as two watermelons popping out of my shirt, I hid my grin as I comprehended what he was actually staring at.

Figures.

Even though I was angry, I couldn't help but replay the sound of his warm voice—my last name rolling and dripping off his tongue, like he was licking sweet ice cream.

Oh, knock it off, Julia.

I knew we would have a new professor that day. The faculty change wasn't surprising.

Mr. Barnes, my beloved photography teacher for the past year and a half, told us he was retiring from teaching due to medical reasons.

In a private meeting with him over a month ago, he informed me he was suffering from stage IV Lymphoma. He had been fighting the cancer for quite some time, but was losing the battle. He explained how tired and sick he felt all the time and how much he was truly going to miss teaching photography, but that he missed spending time with his wife even more. If he was going to spend the last of his days battling this disease, he wanted to do it by her side.

Mr. Barnes was a rugged, biker type on the exterior, but once we all got to know him, we knew he was a big softie who loved his job, his students, and above all else, photography. He had long, gray hair pulled into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck and a gray goatee rimming his lips and chin. His attire often consisted of jeans, t-shirt, and a leather vest with various buttons on it, showing pride in the places he had visited on his motorcycle. He'd recently shaved all his hair off completely and I knew it was because of the cancer treatments.

Oh, I was going to miss him.

The infuriating, yet striking, man standing at the front of the class rambled on about how he planned to work with Mr. Barnes electronically to make sure the class stayed as close to the original syllabus as possible.

With medium-toned skin, his body was a perfect combination of height and muscle. It seemed he spent some time in the sun by the looks of his dirty blond hair with different shades and highlights. His hair wasn't necessarily neat, but uneven and free. I wanted to run my hands through each strand and feel the texture beneath my fingers.

I was only half listening as he explained his sincere apologies for the reason behind Mr. Barnes' sudden departure and how he planned to make the transition on us as easy as possible without letting it affect our learning. He likely had no idea just how much Mr. Barnes meant to me. No words from a stranger could make me feel any better about losing my mentor—my friend.