Chapter 4 Don’t Make Me Wait

Iva’s P.O.V.

As soon as the bell rings and the lecture ends, I let out a sigh. Will’s presence always makes it difficult to focus on anything but him. His intense gaze feels like it's undressing me the entire time. I try to act composed and unaffected.

But inside?

My body burns with desire. I feel so hot under his gaze. I want him to do in reality what he does with his eyes. Damn, Iva, stop it.

I adjust my specs and glance toward him one last time. Just a glimpse.

And shit. He’s already looking at me. That smirk on his face says everything.

Oh no! He caught me. Again.

My cheeks turn red as I immediately lower my gaze and begin packing my things in a hurry. I shove my tablet into my handbag, grab my marker, and sling the strap over my shoulder.

Without looking back, I walk out of the classroom, trying to stay calm. But my heart is racing.

My heels echo against the marble floor of the corridor as I silently scold myself. ‘Keep it together, Iva. He’s your student.’

I’m almost near the next hallway when I hear that voice behind me.

“Professor.”

I stop.

That one word.

Every time he calls me Professor, my heart skips a beat. His deep and seductive voice always sends chills down my spine.

Why is he coming after me?

I clench my fingers tighter around the strap of my handbag and turn just a little, not enough to face him. “Will, not now. I’m getting late for my next lecture.” I give an excuse.

God! I just want to run from here.

He says, “I want to talk.”

Talk? About what?

About the tension we’ve both been drowning in since the first day? About the silent stares and the heat that sparks between us every time our eyes meet? Or about the desires we’re both trying to suppress?

No. I’m not ready for this.

“Tomorrow, Will. I’m getting late.” I keep walking.

But then he says it. His voice laced with smug amusement. “You can stalk me, but can’t talk to me even for a minute?”

My body freezes mid-step. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach.

Oh God. He knows.

He knows I stalked him.

He saw the like. The one I thought I disliked fast enough. I was praying he hadn’t seen it, and since he hadn’t mentioned anything all week, I thought maybe, just maybe, I got lucky.

But, I didn’t.

My throat goes dry.

Shit. Now how the hell am I going to justify myself? What am I supposed to say?

Oops, I was just...curious? That I just accidentally landed on his page, opened every picture, and practically soaked my sheets just reading his damn bio?

No. There’s no excuse.

And now he knows he’s not the only one who's obsessed.

Fuck.

He stands in front of me. “I’m waiting for the answer, Professor.”

My heartbeat is accelerating at his presence, and I avoid looking at him.

Control yourself, Iva. Just answer him.

I finally meet his gaze and say, “Let’s talk after the last lecture. I’m seriously getting late.”

His lips curve up into a smile. “Cool! I’ll wait for you in the classroom after college.”

I take a deep breath. At least, for now, I’m free to go.

“Don’t make me wait, or else you know.” As I walk past him, he whispers, taking my breath away.

I glare at him. “Will…”

He steps closer to me. “Don’t act innocent.” My breath deepens as I feel his warm breath fan across my face. I clench my hands to stop myself from letting my eyes fall to his lips.

He is devouring me with his intense gaze, and his proximity is sending shivers through my entire body.

Then reality hits me. We’re standing in the corridor… inside the college. And he’s my student.

What if someone sees us like this?

I could lose everything. My job. My career.

I instantly step back, breaking the dangerous closeness between us.

You have to control yourself, Iva.

I warn him in a firm tone, “Listen, I’m your professor. So behave.”

I force myself to act normal, to hide how much his presence affects me. To make him believe he doesn’t have that kind of power over me.

Even though we both know he does.

“Teach me how to behave after college, Professor.” As he winks at me, my eyes widen in shock. I immediately look around, hoping nobody has seen us.

I sigh, because the corridor is empty.

“See you after college.” He chuckles and leaves.

This boy. What does he think of himself? I’m his professor. He just can’t talk to me like that.

‘Don’t make me wait, or else you know.’ His words echo in my ears as I walk to my next class.

I can’t stop myself from wondering what he will do if I get late.

Will he do what I’m thinking? Will he punish me?

Fuck! Why am I getting turned on?

Iva, stop it. He is your student. It’s so damn wrong to even think like that about him.

Just fucking control your thoughts and concentrate on your next lecture.

You can’t risk your dream job because of that stupid boy. You’re a smart woman, and you know very well how to handle him.

***

The rest of the day drags, and I try to focus on my lectures, but my mind keeps drifting back to that smirk on his face and to the way he whispered, “Don’t make me wait…”

God.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I’m a professor, respected and disciplined, and I’ve worked so hard to finally reach this place in my career. I have a future to protect, a reputation to maintain.

And yet… every time I close my eyes, I see him.

Those deep, unreadable grey eyes.

That confidence.

That sinful smirk that promises things I shouldn’t even be thinking about.

I finish my last lecture, pretending everything is normal, pretending I’m not shaken by every thought running through my head.

I wait until the last student leaves before packing my things slowly, giving myself every excuse to delay the inevitable. I’ll go home. That’s what I need. A hot shower. Maybe wine. Definitely a distraction.

I sling my handbag over my shoulder and walk toward the exit.

But then I stop. My feet don’t move any further.

I stare ahead… and for a long moment, I just breathe.

Just talk. That’s all it’ll be. I’ll tell him this has to stop. I’ll make him understand the consequences. That’s it. That’s what I tell myself.

But we both know that’s a lie.

The hallway is empty when I start walking. My heartbeat quickens with each step I take toward the classroom.

When I reach the door, I stop. My heart is beating so fast I feel it in my throat.

Why am I doing this?

Because you want him, a voice whispers. Because you want to know what he’ll do if you’re late. Because a part of you wants to be punished.

I take a deep breath and push the door open.

He’s there.

Leaning casually against the teacher’s desk like he owns the room. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone, but he looks up the second I enter.

And smiles.

Not a soft smile. Not a polite one. It’s a sinful, dominant smirk that makes my thighs clench without warning.

“You’re late.” He locks his phone and tosses it onto the desk.

Why am I getting excited?

Damn! Iva, you’re going crazy.