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Aftermath
publish date:
2026-10-16 20:05:10
Latest chapter
FORBIDDEN HANDS: My Cold Professor Elevator
Cherish’s POV The doors sealed with a soft mechanical sound that felt far too final. For one suspended second the only noise inside the elevator was the low electrical hum and the sound of our breathing. The fluorescent light overhead was harsh and unforgiving, throwing every expression into sharp relief. Then Dalton moved. He hit the emergency stop button with the heel of his hand. The car jolted once and went completely still between floors. The overhead panel flickered but stayed on. “What are you doing?” I whispered. He didn’t answer with words. He backed me into the wall hard enough that my shoulder blades met metal, and then his mouth was on mine—open, hungry, stripped of every careful boundary we had tried to maintain. I made a broken sound against his lips and clutched at the front of his coat. The last of the arguments I had carried into the parking structure dissolved under the heat of him. His hands slid under my sweater in one impatient motion, palms spanning my ba
FORBIDDEN HANDS: My Cold Professor Meeting Point
Cherish’s POV He chose the lowest level of the campus parking structure, the far corner where the overhead lights were weakest and the concrete columns created enough shadow to keep a conversation from carrying. I found him already there when I came down the ramp, leaning against a support pillar with his hands in the pockets of his dark coat. The sight of him after the library—after the way he had touched me and the words he had forced into the space between us—made my pulse jump hard enough that I had to slow my steps on purpose. I stopped a few feet away. Neither of us spoke at first. The low ceiling amplified the distant sound of a car engine on the level above and the occasional metallic clink of someone locking a door somewhere out of sight. The air smelled like concrete and cold exhaust. “You asked to talk,” Dalton said finally. His voice was quiet and controlled, but there was nothing casual in the way he watched me. “My parents gave me an ultimatum.” I forced the words
FORBIDDEN HANDS: My Cold Professor The Decision
Cherish’s POV I spent the next day moving through campus like someone who had already half-left. Every time I closed my eyes longer than a blink I was back in the library aisle—the cold metal shelf against my spine, the heat of Dalton’s mouth, the rough certainty in his voice when he said he would not let them take me. The memory sat under my skin in a way that made ordinary sounds feel distant. I took longer routes between buildings. I arrived at lectures after the lights had dimmed and left the moment the professor dismissed us. I kept my phone face-down on every desk so I would not keep checking for a message I had not earned and had not asked for. The Friday deadline from my mother hung over everything like a physical weight. Five days. Then the transfer paperwork would begin. Australia. The UK. Another continent. Another version of my life carefully designed to contain no trace of the man who had cracked every wall I had spent weeks building. I bought coffee I did not fin
FORBIDDEN HANDS: My Cold Professor After
Cherish’s POV We separated like the aisle itself had caught fire. Dalton stepped back first. His breathing was still uneven, the controlled rhythm he usually maintained completely broken. Mine was worse. I tugged my sweater down with hands that refused to stay steady, smoothed the fabric over my stomach, and tried to put my bra back in place without looking at him. My lips felt swollen and sensitive. The skin of my breast still tingled where his mouth had been only moments earlier. The open button of my jeans suddenly felt like evidence that anyone walking by could read. I fastened it with clumsy fingers while the ordinary sounds of the library filtered back in—chairs scraping, pages turning, someone coughing two aisles over—as if the rest of the building had never noticed how close we had come to losing control completely. “Go,” I whispered. He looked at me for one more second, the same raw intensity still burning in his eyes, then turned and walked toward the open end of the a
FORBIDDEN HANDS: My Cold Professor I Can’t Pretend
Cherish’s POV The hand on my wrist was unmistakable. I spun around so fast the book slipped in my grip. Dalton stood in the narrow aisle, close enough that I could see the tension locked in his jaw and the dark, focused intensity in his eyes. For a second the entire library seemed to drop away. The distant hum of the lower floors, the smell of paper and dust—everything narrowed to the space between us. “You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered. “I know.” I tried to pull my wrist free. His fingers didn’t tighten painfully, but they didn’t release me either. Panic and a sharper, unwanted heat twisted together under my ribs. “My parents are threatening to send me abroad,” I said, the words coming out too fast. “They gave me an ultimatum. Cut all contact with you or they’re transferring me next semester. The university is already investigating you. Everything is ruined. We can’t do this—” Dalton stepped forward and kissed me. It was not careful. His mouth covered mine with a raw, contr
FORBIDDEN HANDS: My Cold Professor The Last Aisle
Cherish’s POV I went to the library because staying in my apartment felt impossible. The note from the night before still sat on my desk, the single typed line facing the ceiling like it was waiting for me to acknowledge it again. My parents’ ultimatum had settled into my bones overnight. Cut all contact with Dalton permanently, or they would transfer me to a university abroad next semester. There was no softer version of that conversation, no room left to negotiate. The walls of my apartment had started to feel too narrow, so I packed my laptop, a notebook, and the list of books I needed for the seminar, then walked across campus under a dull, heavy sky. I told myself that being around other people would force my thoughts into a smaller space. It only worked for the first few minutes. The main floor of the library was busy in the ordinary way—students hunched over laptops, the steady click of keyboards, the occasional scrape of a chair, someone laughing too loudly near the prin
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