The lecture hall buzzed with restless chatter, but to Isabella it felt like static in her ears. She sat frozen at her desk, her notebook open, pen in hand, but she hadn't written a single word.
Her thoughts kept circling back to yesterday. The café. The way Adrian Cole had slammed a stranger against the counter like he was nothing. The way his voice had dripped with absolute ownership when he'd said, She's mine.
And worse, the way her body had betrayed her. The way heat had rushed through her veins when he touched her lip. The way she had wanted him to close the distance, to erase the space between them and make good on his dangerous promise.
She'd barely slept last night, tossing in bed, replaying every second until her skin burned with shame and longing.
And now, here he was again.
The door to the hall opened, and the room seemed to shift as Adrian walked in. He wasn't in his professor's jacket today. Instead, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, veins visible beneath the skin, as if he'd come straight from somewhere he didn't want anyone to know about. The faintest shadow of stubble dusted his jaw, making him look less like a lecturer and more like the man she'd glimpsed yesterday, the man who could break bones without blinking.
Every pair of eyes in the hall followed him. But his gaze went straight to hers.
Her lungs stuttered.
"Open your notes," Adrian said, his voice calm, controlled, commanding. "Pop quiz. No excuses."
Groans rippled through the class, but no one dared protest. Pages turned, pens scribbled. Isabella forced her hand to move, but every answer she wrote was wrong. She couldn't think past the weight of his stare pressing into her.
By the time he collected the quizzes, her sheet was a disaster.
Adrian flipped through them lazily until he paused at hers. His brow twitched. A faint, dangerous smile touched his lips.
"Miss Hart," he said softly, though his voice carried across the room, silencing the air. "Stay after class."
The words dropped like stones in her stomach.
The rest of the lecture blurred. She didn't hear a thing. Every minute dragged, until finally, mercifully, the bell rang. Chairs scraped, students rushed out, laughter and complaints filling the hallway as the door shut behind them.
And then it was just the two of them.
Adrian stood at the front of the room, still as a blade, flipping through her quiz paper. He didn't look at her right away. He let the silence stretch, let her nerves knot tighter and tighter.
Finally, he lifted his gaze, dark and unreadable. "This," he said, holding up her paper, "is pathetic."
Her chest tightened. "I…I wasn't…"
"You weren't trying." He dropped the paper on her desk, the red 38% glaring at her like an accusation. "And you think that's acceptable?"
"I just… I couldn't focus," she whispered.
Adrian moved. Slowly, deliberately, he crossed the room, each step echoing in the silence. He stopped in front of her desk and leaned down, bracing one hand on the wood so close she could feel the heat of his body.
His eyes burned into hers. "You think excuses will work on me?"
Her throat went dry. "No."
"Then tell me, Isabella," he murmured, her name a sin on his tongue, "what distracted you?"
She froze. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She couldn't say it. Couldn't admit it.
Adrian's smile deepened, dark and knowing. "That's what I thought."
His hand moved…slow, deliberate, brushing along her jaw, tilting her chin up until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His thumb pressed lightly against her lower lip, just like before.
Her heart thudded violently. Her lips parted without her permission, breath stuttering.
"You have a dangerous habit," he said softly. "Do you know what it is?"
She shook her head faintly, unable to look away.
"You look me in the eye," he whispered. "Even when you're terrified. Even when you know you should run." His thumb stroked her lip, the featherlight touch stealing her breath. "That defiance is what makes me notice you. What makes me… want to break you."
Her pulse screamed in her ears. Heat flushed through her body, shameful and desperate. She should have pulled back. Should have shoved him away.
But she didn't.
He leaned closer, so close his breath ghosted across her mouth. "Say it," he whispered. "Say you'll obey."
Her lips trembled. She should have refused. She should have told him no.
But what came out instead was a shaky, "Yes."
Adrian's eyes darkened, satisfaction flickering in their depths. His thumb pressed harder against her lip, a silent punishment, a silent reward.
"Good girl," he murmured.
The words shot straight through her, heat pooling low in her stomach, shame tangled with desire.
He lingered there, lips hovering just shy of hers, close enough that if either of them breathed too hard, the line would break. The silence thickened, her body taut with anticipation.
Then, just when she thought he might actually kiss her, he pulled back.
The sudden absence made her dizzy.
"You'll redo the assignment I gave you," he said coolly, straightening his sleeves. "By tomorrow. No excuses."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. "Yes, Professor."
But at the door, she couldn't help glancing back.
Adrian stood with his back to her, but his voice carried across the room, low and edged like steel.
"You're learning, Isabella," he said. "But if you fail me again… I'll stop teaching with words. And start teaching with consequences."
Her stomach twisted. Her legs carried her out of the room before she could process the flood of heat and fear surging inside her.
And for the first time, she realized she didn't know whether she wanted to pass his test, or fail it.