“You’re distracting me,” I said, my voice trembling in the small space between us.
“Good,” he murmured, a quiet laugh slipping through his teeth. “You’re beautiful when you lose focus. I prefer you that way.”
The tips of his fingers brushed mine again, deliberate this time, hidden beneath the folder I held like a shield. To anyone else, it was nothing, a simple movement, a fleeting gesture, but his next words were meant for me alone.
“You shouldn’t wear skirts that short when I’m near,” he said, his voice low and rough, every syllable drawn tight with control he was losing by the second. “It makes me think about what’s under them, and I can’t concentrate when I’m imagining you bent over my desk.”
My pulse stuttered, my breath catching as I tried and failed to hold my composure. “You look…handsome,” I said finally, the words escaping before I could pull them back.
He caught them, his expression shifting, darkening with satisfaction. “Handsome,” he repeated, his mouth curving, his voice dark velvet. “Say it again, Edwina. Say it when I’ve got you against a wall, and maybe I’ll believe you.”
My breath snagged. “Professor—”
“Hayden,” he corrected, his tone harder now, the sound of it cutting clean through me. “If you knew what I’m thinking, you wouldn’t bother pretending you’re not imagining the same fucking thing.”
The heat rose fast, sharp, crawling from my chest to my throat. Still, I kept my posture intact, even with students brushing past and colleagues moving through the space around us. “You’re impossible,” I said, the whisper torn from me before I could soften it.
He leaned closer, so near his breath stirred the air against my cheek. “And you,” he murmured, a quiet growl threaded through the words, “are absofuckinglutely adorable when you’re fighting a blush. Makes me want to see what you look like when you stop fighting it.”
His lips didn’t touch me, but the look in his eyes burned through the space between us. “If I had you somewhere quiet right now,” he said, voice roughened with hunger, “I’d ruin that perfect hair with my hands and make you beg me not to stop.”
A tremor ran through me before I could hide it. He saw it, of course he did, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, just enough to make it hurt to breathe.
My grip on the folder tightened until the edges bent, the motion the only thing keeping me from leaning into him in plain sight of everyone.
“Hayden,” I whispered, his name slipping out, too soft.
His gaze darkened, his mouth curving in something that hovered between pleasure and command. “Say it again,” he said,the words coiled low, dangerous, meant for no one else. “Say it like you mean it belongs to you.”
The air seemed to thicken, the sounds of the hall fading beneath the thrum in my chest. I should have turned, stepped away, reminded him where we were. But I didn’t. My lips parted, the name hovering there again, trembling on the edge of surrender, waiting to fall.
“Hayden.”
His hand brushed across the small of my back, the touch fleeting enough to appear unintentional, yet intentional enough to steal the breath from my lungs. He leaned in, closing the distance between us until the faint drag of his fingers burned through the thin fabric of my blouse. My body betrayed me before I could gather control, heat unfurled low in my stomach, a pulse of want I could neither contain nor deny. His mouth came closer, his lips grazing just above the curve of my ear, his breath ghosting over my skin.
“Every man in this room will look at you and see brilliance,” he murmured, his tone dark and smooth, the cadence so controlled it bordered on sin. “But only I know what you sound like when you break, and how you taste when you stop pretending you’re in control.”
The words hit harder than they should have. My breath caught, the air moved too slow in my chest. I tried to steady the tremor in my hands. “You shouldn’t say things like that here,” I managed, though my voice lacked conviction.
His quiet laugh slipped through the noise around us, deep and unhurried, a sound that made restraint feel useless. “I’ll say them anywhere,” he replied, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his mouth when he spoke. “Because no matter how you hide it, you want me to.”
Before I could summon an answer, a voice sliced through the haze. “Edwina! Over here!” Gwen’s familiar tone reached across the hall, breaking the spell.
I moved back a step, the gap between us thin but necessary. Hayden’s eyes followed the motion, dark and unwavering, his expression unreadable but his intent unmistakable. He let me retreat, though the calm in his gaze warned me it was only temporary.
Before I could move further, his fingers brushed mine again, the briefest contact but enough to make my pulse stutter. He leaned in, his lips so close that the next words seemed to vibrate against my skin.
“Run if you want to,” he whispered, each word measured and weighted, sinking through my chest until the heat of it felt almost tangible. “But understand this, Edwina, when I catch you, I won’t let go. Not tomorrow. Not ever. And when I do, you’ll beg me to keep you.”
The breath left me in a slow, unsteady rush, his voice sinking deep enough to leave a mark no one else could see. Then, just as quickly, he straightened, the shift in him seamless, his tone turning cool and professional as though nothing had passed between us.
“Is everything ready for your presentation?” he asked, his words clear enough to reach anyone nearby.
I tightened my grip on the folder until my knuckles ached, forcing composure into my voice. “Yes, Professor. Everything’s ready.”
But inside, nothing was ready. Not for him. Not for what came next.
“Edwina!” Gwen’s call reached me again, slicing through the hum of voices. I turned, spotting her threading through a cluster of suits and lanyards, waving like she was crashing a partyinstead of a professional conference. The sight grounded me, cooling the heat Hayden had left simmering under my skin.
