"So he claimed you." His voice is meticulously neutral.
"Yes."
Julian stands and crosses to me slowly. His hand reaches out and tilts my head gently to see the mark better. When his fingers brush the wound I wince because it's still tender, still healing.
His jaw clenches. "It's bigger than I expected. Did it hurt?"
"Yes. But I wanted it."
"I know." He steps back and runs a hand through his hair, messing the usually neat strands. "I could feel it. You choosing him. The moment his bond snapped into place and connected to yours." His voice cracks slightly. "It hurt. But I expected it."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry for what you are." He crosses behind me toward the door. "You're Silverpelt. Four mates written into your DNA. I knew this when I claimed you and I knew Caspian would come eventually with others after him."
I hear him look up and down the corridor, then the soft click of the door closing. The lock turning.
Before I can turn around, he presses me back against the wall. His body is close to mine, so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. His lips brush against my jaw, not quite kissing but close enough to make my breath catch.
"I miss you," he breathes. "I hate that I can see you across a room and not be able to touch you. That I have to pretend you're just another student."
His hand reaches down and runs up my thigh, under my skirt, squeezing my ass. The touch sends heat flooding through me.
"I'd take you right here right now if I could."
"Do it," I breathe.
His eyes change, pupils dilating until they're almost black. He stares down at me and I can see the mental gymnastics playing out across his face. The war between what he wants and what he knows he shouldn't do. Fighting the urge.
He gives a low groan, the sound rough and desperate. "You know I'm your teacher, Miss Bardot."
I hold his hard cock through his trousers, rubbing it and enjoying how he moans. "And you know what I want, Professor Harmon."
I go to undo his zip and for a moment he lets me, eyes dark with want. Then his hand covers mine, stopping me.
He leans in until his lips graze my ear, his voice a rough whisper. "You have no idea what it does to me, knowing exactly what you feel like, knowing every sound you make, and having to stand in front of a classroom and pretend I don't."
The words send a shiver down my spine, but before he can say more, I turn my head and capture his mouth with mine.
He reacts immediately, his lips part under the pressure, and he kisses me back with a hunger that borders on desperation. One hand slides up my back, pulling me flush against him, while the other grips my hip with a possessiveness that promises bruises. The kiss deepens, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips before tangling with mine, slowly...demanding. Every shift of his mouth, every ragged breath he steals from me, feels like a claim. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring myself as the world narrows to the heat of him, the taste of him, how his body tenses like he's fighting the urge to take even more.
His phone rings on the desk.
He freezes, conflicted, and lets it ring off.
It starts again immediately.
"Damnit," he mutters against my lips.
Before he pulls away completely, he leans in close to my ear. "You were mine first. And you always will be."
His voice shifts to professional, clipped. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow for class, Miss Bardot. Good night."
He strides across the room to answer the phone, his voice already reverting back to that measured, professional tone.
"Harmon speaking."
I stay where I am, watching as he turns his back to me, his shoulders squaring as though he's stepping into another version of himself.
