Professor Crowe

Cherish’s POV


I was late.
My head still throbbed from last night’s leftover frustration, and the taste of regret sat heavy on my tongue. I pushed the lecture hall door open with my shoulder, already preparing an apology for the professor, when the world tilted.
He stood at the front of the room.
Same dark wavy hair.
Same sharp jaw.
Same cold, unreadable eyes that had watched me fall apart under his hands less than twelve hours ago.
Professor Dalton Crowe wrote something on the whiteboard in clean, controlled strokes, as if he hadn’t had his fingers on my bare skin in a crowded club the night before. As if he hadn’t left me aching and humiliated in a bathroom stall.
My feet rooted to the floor. Someone behind me cleared their throat, forcing me to move. I slid into the nearest empty seat at the back, heart slamming so hard I was sure the entire room could hear it.
He turned.
Our eyes met for one brief second.
No surprise. No smirk. Nothing.
Just that same calm, assessing look that made my stomach drop.
He continued the lecture like I didn’t exist.
I heard almost nothing. Every time he spoke, his voice dragged me straight back to the bar—low, steady, telling me I could come just from his hands. My nipples tightened against my bra without permission. I crossed my arms and stared at my notebook, pretending to write.
Halfway through class, he said my name.
“Miss Langford.”
My head snapped up. Every student turned to look at me.
“Can you explain the main argument from yesterday’s reading?”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out at first. My voice sounded thin when it finally arrived. I somehow managed a half-coherent answer. He held my gaze a second longer than necessary, then simply said, “Adequate,” and moved on.
Adequate.
The same man who had whispered filth against my ear now graded me like a stranger.
When class ended, I was the first to stand. I needed air. I needed distance. I made it three steps toward the door before his voice cut through the noise, quiet but unmistakable.
“Miss Langford. My office. Now.”
A few students glanced over. I kept my face blank and nodded once, as if this were normal.
His office was at the end of the faculty hallway. He unlocked the door, waited for me to enter, then closed it with a soft click that felt louder than it should have.
The room smelled like paper and his cologne. The same cologne that had clung to my skin last night.
I didn’t sit.
“Forget last night,” I said the moment we were alone. My voice came out sharper than I planned. “It was a dare. It meant nothing. You’re my professor now, so we pretend it never happened.”
Dalton walked past me slowly, setting his bag down on the desk. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing the black shirt underneath, sleeves already rolled to his elbows. He looked completely at ease.
“I don’t pretend,” he said.
“Well, start.”
He turned to face me fully. The desk lamp cast shadows under his cheekbones, making him look older and more dangerous.
“You put my hand under your shirt,” he said calmly. “You let me play with your nipples until your knees got weak. You invited me to the bathroom and waited for me.” His eyes stayed steady on mine. “That wasn’t nothing, Cherish.”
Hearing my name in this room felt wrong. Intimate. Illegal.
“It was a mistake,” I said.
“Was it?”
He stepped closer. I refused to back up. The space between us shrank until I had to tilt my chin to keep meeting his eyes. I could feel the heat coming off his body.
“Your pulse is faster,” he murmured, glancing at my throat. “Just like last night.”
“Don’t.”
He ignored the warning. One of his hands settled on my waist, fingers spreading over the thin fabric of my top. His thumb stroked once, slow and deliberate, right above the waistband of my jeans. The touch was light, almost polite, but it sent a current straight through me.
I hated how fast my body answered him.
His hand slid upward, inch by inch, until his fingers brushed the underside of my breast. He didn’t grab. He just traced the soft curve over my bra with the pads of his fingers, watching my face the entire time.
My breath stuttered.
A small, knowing look passed through his eyes.
“Still so sensitive,” he said quietly. “I barely touched you and you’re already reacting.”
I should have shoved him away immediately. Instead, my traitorous body leaned the slightest bit into his hand. Heat pooled low in my stomach, familiar and humiliating. My nipples tightened so hard they ached.
“Stop,” I whispered.
“Why? You’re not pushing me away.”
That snapped me out of it.
I grabbed his wrist and shoved his hand off me, stepping back until my thighs hit the edge of a chair. My skin still tingled where he had touched me. I felt flushed and exposed and furious at myself.
“This is done,” I said, voice shaking only a little. “You’re my professor. I’m your student. Whatever happened last night is over.”
Dalton looked at his hand for a moment, then back at me. His expression didn’t change, but something darker flickered behind his eyes.
“We’ll see,” he said.
I didn’t wait for more. I yanked the door open and walked out, keeping my steps steady even though my legs felt unreliable. The hallway was empty. I pressed my back against the wall once I was out of sight and closed my eyes, trying to calm the chaos under my skin.
One touch.
That was all it took.
He hadn’t even kissed me. He hadn’t done anything compared to last night, and I was still trembling like he had stripped me bare.
I pulled out my phone with unsteady fingers and texted Lila.
Me: Where are you?
She replied almost instantly.
Lila: Library café. Hurry, I saved you a seat. Also the new professor is lowkey hot, no? Older but like… damn.
I stared at the message until the words blurred.
She had no idea.
She had been too drunk to remember his face clearly, and now she was calling the man who still had the ghost of his hand on my waist “hot.”
I locked my phone, dragged in a deep breath, and started walking.
Last night I had let a stranger put his hands on me for a dare.
Today that stranger had a title, an office, and the power to ruin me.
And the worst part?
My body already wanted him to touch me again.