Chapter 7

~ Sylara's POV ~

Fuck! I exhaled, the silent curse ripping through me as I stared at him. I had told myself today would be another day to erase him. Another day to completely forget that night, but how could I achieve that when he strode into our lecture hall looking like a walking sexual fantasy?

He was wearing a white turtleneck that didn't just cover his body, it aggressively showcased the hard, veined thickness of his biceps. His dark hair was slightly wet and clinging to his forehead, giving him a dangerous, younger look that made his forty-something years utterly irrelevant.

His glasses rested perfectly on his nose, and his lips… his lips were fucking so kissable right now, begging to be crushed beneath mine.

"Professor Nick!" Lisa and her friends squealed, their voices grating like those of crazy K-pop fans.

"What were my precise conditions regarding student–professor boundaries?" he asked, his voice cutting and deadly serious. His entire aura screamed dangerous, but why did I find it so goddamn captivating?

"You're just too damn hot to be professional, Professor Nick!" Lisa shrieked.

He adjusted his glasses, as if he was trying to indirectly seduce me. I swallowed a hard knot of desire, my gaze locked on his prominent biceps. I could feel my mind already mentally stripping him bare, desperate for a clear view of the hard six-pack that was hidden beneath that shirt.

"Professor Nicholas. I prefer if you address me professionally. Only those who are close to me call me Nick. Get that?" he said with full authority that was enough to silence Lisa and her friends.

Nick. Only those close to him call him Nick? I remembered that woman, Thalia. She had called him Nick. Were they that intimate? Was she a better fuck than I was? Was that why he had shoved me away, treating me like a disposable distraction?

"Sylara." His voice cut me out of my silly thoughts. When I looked up, he was staring directly at me with those gorgeous, unsettlingly beautiful almond eyes.

What the hell did he want now? Did he intend to apologize for the dismissive way he had treated me? Would he finally grab me, kiss me hard, and touch me again? I wondered intensely until Ashley harshly nudged me with her elbow.

"What are you doing? Get up," she whispered.

Yeah… right. I quickly stood to my feet. "Yes, Professor," I tried to sound formal, but my voice betrayed me, dropping to a low, husky sound that was barely above a whisper and sounded scandalously like I was begging to be fucked.

He stared at me.

I didn't know why he was staring at me, but he stared at me for a long, agonizing moment, his eyes boring into me, and he only had to look away when students, especially Lisa and her friends, began murmuring as to why he was just fixated on me.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses again. That signature sign of his will one day be the end of me. I could feel myself getting wet.

"I looked into your grades in Statistics. You're doing poorly in it. You might not be able to graduate if you fail again. Do you know that?" he asked.

He looked into my grades? Does that mean he at least cared about the student he fucked?

"Sylara?" He knitted his eyebrows, waiting for my answer.

"I… I am aware of the risk," I replied, desperately trying to mask the rush of excitement that flared up just because he had mentioned my name and focused on my grades.

"See me after your classes," he ordered firmly before shifting his focus back to the rest of my classmates. I practically melted, smiling internally as I sank back into my seat.

Lisa, however, shot her hand up, staring pointedly at me.

"What do you want?" he asked her.

"I'm also failing Statistics. Why didn't you inquire about my grades?" she challenged.

I glared at her, wishing she could feel the heat of my silent fury. Why was she trying to sabotage my chance to be alone with him? Besides, she wasn't special to him. If she were, he would have focused on her grades as he had done with mine.

"You're not doing so badly in Statistics. I looked into everyone's grades, and you all seem to be doing fine in it," he said, and my jaw dropped slightly in disappointment.

Here I thought that he looked into my grades because he at least cared about me specifically, only to be slapped with the truth that I wasn't the only one he checked on. He checked everyone's grades. 

A sharp, angry feeling of disappointment rushed through me, and I didn't know when I hissed so loudly. Everyone turned their heads to me, including him.

"What's that supposed to mean, Sylara?" he asked.

"Not… nothing, Professor. My apologies," I said, forcing a sheepish, insincere smile. He simply ignored me and began his lesson. If my eyes were capable of firing bullets, he would have been riddled with holes and sent straight to the morgue.

With every hand gesture he made, I kept my intense glare on him, cursing him with my eyes. He should have looked at my grades alone, not everyone else's.

My subconscious mind screamed at me that he was supposed to be a professor, not my boyfriend, but I didn't care—not until I remembered how dismissively he had treated me yesterday.

I had vowed to forget about him, but who was I kidding? The moment the bell violently signaled the end of class for leisure break, I was already standing at the door of his office, knocking softly.

"Who's it?" his deep voice asked from inside.

"It's me… Lara," I replied.

There were a few seconds of silence before he opened the door for me. I attempted to smile at him, but my jaw immediately dropped in shock when I saw him. 

He was visibly sweaty, his shirt slightly rumpled. The front of his trousers was straining, and his dick was clearly and aggressively erect, suggesting he had just finished a hot, steamy, breathless sexual encounter with someone.

When I peeped in, there was Thalia. The woman who called him Nick. She was casually pulling up her panties. He had just fucked her right here on his desk, the space where we were supposed to talk about Statistics. Did he open the door just so I could see he had sex with another woman?

I tried to say something, but what in God's name was I supposed to say? We had nothing serious. I was just someone he had a quick fuck with in Cabo. And Thalia? I think they suited each other perfectly. She was in the same age bracket as him… and as for me, I was just his student.

"I… I… I'm going to come back later," I stammered. I turned to leave, but he was quick enough to grab my hand, his grip suddenly intense.

I turned to look at him, wondering why he was stopping me from leaving when he was having fun with another woman, but he was so unreadable. I couldn't even tell what he was thinking. His eyes were just filled with cold emptiness.

Thalia stepped down from the desk, her body loose from the recent orgasm, and he let go of my hand. "I had a wonderful time, Nick. As always, you're the best when it comes to satisfying a woman's cravings," she purred, then kissed him deeply and possessively.

Worse, he kissed her back, his hand tangling in her hair. I felt like the third wheel watching a romantic couple make out. Deep down, I wished I was the one he had just fucked until I screamed, the one he had kissed, the one he had spread her legs open and driven his dick into.

"See you around, Nick," she purred, sliding her hand down the front of his trousers, deliberately touching his throbbing dick before leaving. 

She didn't spare me a glance. She acted like I didn't exist, and right now, she didn't exist to me. I fucking hate her.

"Do you need a special invitation to come in?" he asked.

I should've turned around and left, but I found myself stepping into his office that still reeked of hot sex, semen, and musk.

After he shut the door, he buckled his belt and disposed whatever condoms he had used on her. Seeing all of that gave me the icks.

"Now tell me, why are you so bad at Statistics?" he asked, trying to act like the best professor on Earth after I had just witnessed him fuck a woman in his office. He had also done that here with me. The big difference is that he didn't fuck me.

"Tell me why you're bad at Statistics, and I will be willing to help you," he said. He wasn't smiling, nor was he frowning. He was just… unreadable.

"Sylara?"

"Why did you have sex with her?!" I asked, my voice dripping with jealousy.