“Stop twisting my words,” I whispered, though the protest sounded weak, even to me.
He tilted his head, smirking. “I’m not twisting anything, sweetheart. I’m just tugging on the threads you’ve been pulling at since the moment you knocked on my door.”
My breath came faster now, uneven, caught somewhere between defiance and need. He was too close, his presence eating up every inch of space I thought I had. When he reached for the bottle, the motion was fluid, confident. He uncorked it and poured into two glasses, never breaking eye contact. His fingers brushed mine as he handed me one, a touch too slow, too knowing.
“Congratulations, Edwina,” he murmured, lifting his glass. “On the symposium… and on finally admitting what you want.”
The wine was rich, smooth, but it wasn’t what burned down my throat, it was him, the way his nearness filled the air, the way his voice wrapped around me until I couldn’t tell if I was drinking to still my hands or to keep from touching him.
Silence lingered, thick and charged, before I spoke again. “You know,” I began, tracing the rim of my glass, my voice unsteady but curious, “I don’t understand it. You. Standing here. Alone.”
His brow lifted slightly, eyes narrowing with interest, as a predator indulging prey that had dared to speak. “You don’tunderstand what, exactly?” he asked, voice calm but edged with curiosity.
I hesitated, then exhaled. “A man like you, handsome, intelligent, infuriatingly self-possessed, why is there no one in your life? A woman. There must have been… plenty.”
A slow smile curved his mouth, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “Handsome?” he repeated, his voice dropping, each syllable coated in tease and heat. “Careful, Edwina. If you keep flattering me this way, I might start thinking you came here just to tell me how much you want me.”
His words hung between us, thick and intoxicating, and I suddenly realized, he wasn’t just teasing. He was warning me. And I was already too far gone to stop. Heat crept up my neck, prickling along my cheeks, but I refused to look away. “Don’t flatter yourself, Professor. It’s not just me, the whole campus thinks it.”
That earned me a laugh, low, rich, the kind that slipped under my skin and made my stomach twist. He leaned in until his breath brushed the edge of my ear, his tone dark with amusement. “So the campus thinks I’m handsome,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close. “But you, sweetheart… you just said it out loud.”
I swallowed hard, pulse stuttering as I forced out, “You corner your students with logic tricks now?”
His grin turned wicked, his voice a teasing drawl. “Only the ones I can’t stop fucking thinking about.”
The playfulness in his tone shifted, heat replacing humor as his gaze darkened. The space between us dissolved, each step deliberate until I could feel the warmth of his body bleeding into mine, the air turning heavy with what neither of us wanted to name.
“Handsome, you said,” he rasped, his voice rougher now, words vibrating low in his throat. His hand lifted, tracing theedge of my jaw with the backs of his fingers before sliding down, brushing the sensitive hollow at the base of my throat. The touch was barely there, yet it felt filthy, dangerous.
“Say it again,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “But this time, don’t hide behind the campus, or anyone else. Say it like you mean it. You think I belong to you in a way no one else ever could, handsome only in your eyes.”
My breath hitched, my pulse wild and erratic. His hand found my hip, fingers tightening through the thin fabric of my skirt, thumb pressing down until the pressure sent sparks through me.
“Fuck, Edwina,” he growled, voice thick and wrecked with restraint. “You have no idea how close you are to sin when you look at me like that. One word from you—just one—and I’d ruin you right here. And the worst part?” His mouth brushed mine, the words a dark caress. “You’d fucking let me.”
The air between us snapped. His mouth crashed against mine before I could even breathe a protest.
The kiss wasn’t careful, it was possession and hunger, raw and consuming, a claiming that tore the air from my lungs and replaced it with his. His lips moved against mine with desperate precision, deep and punishing, as if he’d been starving for this and finally decided to feed.
The empty glass slipped from my hand, falling to the rug with a dull thud, forgotten as his hand slid to the small of my back, yanking me flush against him. My body collided with his, the heat of him searing through every inch of restraint I had left. I gasped into his mouth, and he caught it, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping past my lips with a guttural sound that shook through me. I fisted his shirt, fingers clawing into the fabric, trying to anchor myself as he devoured me, kissed me until the room spun, until the only thing I knew was him, his mouth, his breath, his taste.
When he finally pulled back, his mouth hovered above mine, his breath ragged, hot. “Wine,” he murmured, his voice molten and filthy. “You taste like wine… but underneath?” His thumb dragged over my bottom lip, slow and deliberate. “You taste like sin—sweet, forbidden, fucking perfect. Makes me want to find out if the rest of you tastes just as ruinous.”
His mouth ghosted against my jaw, the words a dark promise. “See, sweetheart?” he whispered, voice rough. “One taste, and you’re already mine.”
His hand gripped my thigh, dragging the hem of my skirt higher, dangerously higher, while his other hand remained at the back of my neck, keeping me where he wanted me. I was trembling, caught between fear and a hunger that devoured every shred of reason. His mouth ghosted along the line of my jaw, trailing lower until his teeth grazed the shell of my ear.
“Do you have any idea how close I am to throwing you on that desk?” he whispered, each word dark, heavy with promise. “How close I am to keeping you here until you can't even remember your own name?”
A whimper broke from me, humiliating in its desperation. His laugh was low, ominous.
“There it is, the sound I knew you'd make. You think you can hide it from me? That need? You're already mine, Edwina. And God help me, I won't ever let you go.”
Hayden's mouth ravaged mine, his tongue plunging deep with filthy swirls and tangles that left me panting and aching. His palms burned scorching trails up my inner thighs, shoving the hem of my skirt roughly to my waist, exposing me completely. Cool air caressed my drenched panties, the sheer lace concealing nothing. “Say my fucking name,” Hayden growled against my lips, nipping savagely. “I want to hear you scream it while I'm deep inside you.”
“Hay...” I whimpered, hips rocking wantonly, seeking friction. “Hayden, please...” A guttural sound ripped from his throat as he ground his hard cock against my center, letting me feel every solid inch. I nearly ignited on the spot. “Look at you, shaking and desperate, dripping all over. That's right, baby. You came here wanting me to snap, to take you, to make you completely mine. Didn't you?”
I could only moan, arching into his touch, nails clawing at his shoulders. I craved more, craved everything. Hayden's smirk was pure sin. “Those sweet little whimpers are all because of me. I'll make you cry out in pleasure while I'm buried to the hilt in that perfect little pussy.”
