Chapter 4

~ Sylara’s POV ~

“Lara! Come sit with me,” Ashlyn waved at me with a bright, cheerful smile. I mirrored her smile and walked over, settling down beside her.

“Are you eager to see our new professor? Everyone is so excited to see him!” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement.

I glanced behind her and noticed a group of girls clustered together, applying makeup as if preparing for a runway show. Even worse, the unserious girls — the ones who only showed up during exams were suddenly present and pretending to care about academics.

They were all eager to see the new professor.

Meanwhile, I felt like the odd one, the only person who wasn’t even remotely interested.

“They all came to class because of the new professor?” I whispered, tilting my head toward Lisa and her friends.

They called themselves The Queens — three spoiled girls whose money spoke louder than their brains ever could.

Ashlyn laughed softly. “I heard our new professor is one hell of a hot dude. When his picture got leaked in our class group, the whole place went crazy. Didn’t you see the gossip?”

I sighed. “You already know I don’t waste time gossiping with our classmates, Ash. I didn’t see anything.”

“It’s a good thing I saved his picture before it was deleted,” she said with a mischievous grin, already fishing her phone out of her purse. “Wanna see?”

“I’m not interested in knowing what he looks like,” I replied, leaning back with folded arms. “He’s going to walk into this class eventually, so I’ll see him then. Besides, I don’t care about his looks. I just want to get better at statistics and finally graduate without any subject dragging me down.”

Ashlyn nudged me playfully. “You’re suddenly taking things so seriously after what happened in Cabo.”

“It was just a one-night thing. I’m over it now.” I smiled, but it was all a lie — a beautiful, aching lie. Because all through the weekend, the only thing I had thought about was the perfect face of that stranger.

How he kissed me, touched me, and made me moan so loudly. I craved another moment to be with him again, but it wasn’t going to happen because I was back in Brooklyn.

But if I had another chance to spend another night with him, I wouldn’t hesitate to strip myself naked in front of him and let him fuck me like he did. He made me feel like a woman that night, and I wanted a repeat of it.

“Did you tell your parents about your breakup with Alfred?” Ashlyn’s question snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah... I did,” I forced a smile.

“How did they take it?”

“They were surprised and tried to make me apologize to him, but that’s not going to happen. Alfred and I are over,” I said firmly.

There was no way I’d go back to someone who insulted and disrespected me. At least now I knew it wasn’t me. That perfect stranger whoever he was had made me feel things Alfred never could. That perfect stranger was a better fucker than Alfred.

Gosh! Why can’t I just get him out of my head? It was supposed to be a one-night fling, but now I can’t stop thinking about him. It was as if he left a huge part of himself inside me. Even after countless showers, I could still feel his presence on my skin, like a phantom touch that refused to fade.

“I’m screwed,” I sighed, resting my head on the desk.

“Are you okay?” Ashlyn asked.

“I’m fine,” I replied without lifting my head. He was an older man, but I still couldn’t get him off my mind. I needed him to touch me again, to kiss me again, to fuck me again.

Just a faint memory of that night was already making me wet. God! What did that stranger do to me?

“Oh my God! Professor!” my classmates suddenly squealed, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“You look better in person!”

“I can’t breathe! You’re a demigod!”

“Are you even from this planet?!”

They complimented him, screaming at the top of their voices. I ignored them, didn’t even lift my head up, even when Ashlyn nudged me to take a look at our new professor.

No matter how hot he was, I was certain he wasn’t as hot as the stranger from Cabo. That man was one of a kind — his biceps, his six-pack chest, his commanding height, his well-curved jawline, and his enchanting fox-green eyes. I had never seen anyone like him.

“Thanks for the compliments, but I’d appreciate it if you don't do it again,” he spoke.

My brows knitted together. That deep, smooth voice… it sounded so familiar. My heart skipped a beat. It was exactly like his voice, the man from Cabo.

“I’m here as your professor, and I do hope to maintain a student–teacher relationship with everyone here. Do I make myself clear?” His tone carried the same commanding authority, the same dominance that once made my pulse race.

No. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly be my new professor. He lived in Cabo, not Brooklyn.

Swallowing hard, I slowly lifted my head from the desk, only to lock eyes with him.

It was him.

The man from Cabo. The man who had ruined me for anyone else because I couldn’t stop thinking about his touch.

A loud scream tore from my throat as I shot up from my seat, pointing at him before I could stop myself. All eyes fell on me, including his.

“Did you have a problem with what I just said, Miss?” he asked, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

I became speechless. Why was he speaking so formally? Didn’t he recognize me as the girl he had sex with in Cabo?

Right. Even if he remembered me, he wouldn’t possibly say, ‘Oh, you’re the girl I fucked’ in front of the entire class. He was a professor — my professor. And any kind of relationship between us was forbidden.

“Do you have a problem with what I just said?” he repeated, his voice calm but powerful enough to make my pulse quicken. All I could think about was how he drove his dick into me that night.

I shook my head quickly to banish the thought. “No, Professor,” I whispered, forcing my trembling hands onto the desk as I sank back into my chair.

Even as I sat, the girls beside me exchanged curious glances. Lisa and her friends were whispering, their eyes darting between us.

“Why did you scream like that?” Ashlyn whispered to me. I only smiled at her, my eyes lingering on him. His eyes were on me, but he was the first to look away.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, looking effortlessly hot while doing it. 

God, those glasses suited him too well. He was older, sure, but the way he carried himself, made him seem younger… and somehow even more irresistible.

“Just a brief introduction,” he began, his deep voice commanding the room’s attention. “My name is Nicholas Hardung, and I’ll be your new statistics professor. You’re welcome to come to me anytime you find a topic difficult.”

“We will, Professor!” Lisa and her friends purred with excitement. I frowned at how they were smiling at him like they belonged to him.

He spoke a little more about himself before diving into lesson. I should have been taking notes, but all I could do was watch him, my eyes pleading with him to look in my direction. But he didn’t — not even for a second.

It made me angry. I get he was trying to keep to school protocols, but why was he acting like he didn’t know me? Did he even have any idea what he had done to me?

Had he forgotten how he turned me back and forth, pushing his dick inside me, exploring my whole body like it was an experiment? The memory sent a jolt through me. I had to press my thighs together because of how horny I was. I had never been this horny for a man before.

“Lara!” Ashlyn called my name loudly. I returned to the present, only to find out that he was gone, and just a few students were left in the class.

“Where’s the professor?” I asked.

“He left a few minutes ago. Didn’t you see him leaving?” she asked.

I ignored her question and ran out of the class. I needed to talk to him. Thankfully, I found his office after asking a few professors.

“Come in,” his voice spoke from inside after I knocked. I arranged myself properly before stepping inside his office.

His eyes were on the list of files he was holding, so I cleared my throat so he could look at me. And when he did, it felt like I could hardly breathe.

“How may I help you, Miss?” he asked.

Seriously? We were alone now. He should drop the act and stop pretending like he didn’t know me. I was sure he remembered me — he wasn’t drunk that night. I was the one who was drunk, yet I remembered him.

“If you have nothing to say to me, you should leave. I’m busy,” he said in a cold voice, like he hadn’t begged me that night to spread my legs wider so he could fuck me.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” he asked, his voice colder than before.

“Do… do you remember me?” I asked quietly, my fingers clutching the hem of my dress.

He glanced at me, his gaze brushing over me with unsettling indifference. “No, I don’t… Am I supposed to know you? Do we know each other?” he asked.

I let out a shocking gasp.