His hand was steady against my back, guiding me across the floor as though we had done this a thousand times before. Yet every step felt stolen, dangerous, and intoxicating.
"Professor—" I began, but his eyes silenced me.
"Alexander," he corrected, his voice so low I nearly thought I imagined it.
The name trembled on my lips, forbidden and thrilling. My heart pounded, and I tried to remind myself who he was. A professor. Untouchable. Off-limits. But the warmth in his gaze told another story.
"You shouldn't look at me like that," I whispered, my voice almost breaking.
"And how do I look at you?" His lips curved ever so slightly, the first trace of softness I had ever seen in him.
"Like I'm not your student," I said, daring him.
For a moment, he froze. Then, with a firm tug, he drew me closer. His breath brushed against my ear. "That's because I'm not looking at my student. I'm looking at a woman I can't stop thinking about."
The orchestra ended the song, applause rising around us. But neither of us moved. Neither of us let go.
The world kept spinning, and yet, in that moment, I felt as though time had stopped entirely.
This was a mistake. I knew it with every rational part of my mind. And yet, the rational part of me had been losing its battle ever since Amelia Hayes had stepped into my lecture hall.
Her intelligence had caught my attention. Her defiance had captured it. But this—her eyes shining up at me, her lips parted as though daring me closer—this was something else entirely.
I couldn't stop myself.
"Leave with me," I heard myself say, my voice harsher than intended.
Her breath caught. "What?"
"One dance isn't enough." The truth burned in my chest. "I need more. Walk away with me. Tonight."
I half expected her to slap me. To call me insane. To remind me of every law, every boundary, every rule I was shattering with those words.
But she didn't. She stared at me, stunned, for one long second—then she nodded.
The chill of the night air hit me as soon as we stepped outside, but my skin burned hotter than ever.
His hand never left mine. Strong, unyielding. A lifeline and a chain all at once.
We walked through the quiet streets in silence. The laughter from the gala faded behind us, replaced by the soft echo of our footsteps. Every brush of his arm against mine set fire to my nerves. Every heartbeat whispered warnings I ignored.
At last, he stopped. A tall building loomed above us, elegant and modern, its glass windows gleaming in the moonlight.
His home.
I froze, panic flooding me. "Professor—"
He turned instantly, his hands gentle yet firm as they cupped my face. "Say my name."
I swallowed hard. "Alexander."
Something broke in his eyes then—years of restraint, of discipline, of control. And before I could breathe, his lips were on mine.
The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't tentative. It was a storm breaking, fierce and consuming.
I should have pushed him away. I should have run. Instead, I clung to him as though he were the only thing keeping me alive.
She tasted like defiance and fire, the very things that had undone me from the beginning.
Every warning screamed in my head. She was too young. Too forbidden. Too dangerous. But the feel of her body against mine, the way she melted into me, tore through every barrier I had built.
I deepened the kiss, my hands tracing the outline of her shoulders, memorizing her like I had been starving.
"Tell me to stop," I whispered against her lips, breath ragged. "Say it, Amelia, and I will."
She pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, her eyes shining with something that wasn't fear.
"I don't want you to stop."
And that was it. The last thread of control snapped.
I led her inside.
The night passed in a blur of touches, whispers, and reckless abandon. Every moment felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff and discovering I could fly.
We didn't talk about rules, or consequences, or the morning that would inevitably come. We only lived in the now—in the fire that had consumed us both.
When I woke, the gray light of dawn filtered through unfamiliar windows. The sheets beside me were still warm, the scent of him clinging to my skin.
I turned my head, but he wasn't there. His absence pressed against me like a weight.
And with it came reality.
I sat up, clutching the sheets to my chest, my heart pounding. What had I done?
He was my professor. This was impossible. Dangerous.
Tears stung my eyes as I dressed quietly, every movement trembling. I didn't leave a note. I didn't look back.
By th
e time the sun rose fully over the city, I was gone.
Gone from his apartment.
Gone from his life.
Gone with a secret growing inside me.