Unmasked desire

Fiona’s POV

The hallway felt smaller the moment our eyes met.

He stood a few steps away, the faint hum of the fluorescent lamps buzzing between us. My heart skipped, thudded, then kept running as if it could outrun what I saw in his gaze—something dangerous, restrained, and all too familiar.

Jalen’s eyes lingered, soft yet sharp, like he was trying to remember how to breathe. My hand clutched the hem of my mini skirt tightly against my thigh. Good thing I was wearing pop socks—my ass would have been out. I stood there in front of him, inches away, trying to pretend I didn’t just imagine his fingers holding my throat again like they had before.

“Professor,” I whispered, my voice barely steady.

He nodded once, stepping aside as if making room for me to pass. But the air was too thick between us, and neither of us moved. The silence wrapped around us like a net.

“Shouldn’t you be at the sport court with other students?” His tone was calm and careless, but his eyes betrayed him. Heat lived there—buried, suffocating, and unspoken.

“I… I’m not feeling too good, so I got off,” I managed. “I was going back to my room. What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze dipped briefly to my hands still clutching my skirt, then flicked back to my face.

“Be careful where you wander, Fiona. Not everyone in this school plays by the rules. You don’t wanna get hurt.”

My breath tightened. He actually cared? Interesting.

I smiled faintly, the irony in his voice almost making me laugh. I wanted to ask Including you? but swallowed the words. Instead, I brushed past him, my shoulder grazing his arm—light, deliberate.

The spark that followed made my breath hitch.

He caught my hand, gently but firmly, pulling me to his chest. His stare sank into me, like he was searching for something. His breath brushed my face—warm, steady, intoxicating. For a moment, the hallway blurred, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“Pro… hmmm—”

My word dissolved into a moan as he caught my lips in a hungry kiss before I could even finish saying professor. I gave in too quickly—too eagerly. For a man his age, he kissed like sin. His lips were exactly how I imagined them: soft, warm, and full. And his breath—God—sweet, addictive.

My stomach clenched. That was my first kiss in my twenty years of living, and it felt perfect. My face tingled as he kissed me slowly, deeply, every tug, every pull, every bite filled with intention. Adrenaline surged through me, making my knees weak. He pulled me tighter, his hands roaming with the desperation of a starved man, lost in the moment.

And honestly, we both were.

We forgot we were in the middle of the school hallway, where anyone could walk in. We didn’t care, and I wished he would never stop.

When he finally pulled away, my eyes stayed closed until he spoke, his voice shaky like he was catching his breath. The moment was thick.

“You have no idea how I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispered.

I was speechless. My hand flew to my lips, my face flushed as I stared at him. Silence stretched between us.

“Fiona,” he called softly.

I panicked and ran past him as fast as I could.

I rushed into my room and shut the door hard. My hands trembled, my breath shook. I leaned against the door, panting like I had escaped a forest full of hunters. I couldn’t think straight. I dragged down the door and collapsed to the floor, confusion swirling in my head. I felt prepared for this moment, yet not ready at all. I loved it—maybe too much—and I wasn’t even shocked.

I stayed on the floor for minutes until a knock hit the door. My heart jumped.

I opened it slightly and saw Paris and Jude smiling.

“Finally! We’ve been waiting forever. Who are you hiding from?” Paris squealed. “There’s a party tonight. A masked one. Rumor says it’s exclusive, wild, and completely off the books. You’re coming. I’m not even asking.”

She pushed the door open without permission.

I frowned. “A mask party? You know my dad would—”

“Your dad isn’t here. Besides, you haven’t spoken to him since I met you,” she cut in, wagging a finger. “You need to loosen up. You’ve been too serious lately. No one will know it’s you. Everyone wears masks.”

Jude smirked as he sat down, eyes glued to me.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little fun.”

My head snapped toward him. “I’m not scared.”

“Sure,” he said, walking closer. “Prove it.”

My heart tripped, but I covered it with a glare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paris groaned, grabbing my hand. “Enough. No excuses. You’re going. We already have your mask.” She pulled out a delicate white glitter mask that shimmered under the light. “Perfect. Like a princess about to commit a royal sin.”

Jude chuckled, but his eyes stayed unreadable.

“Don’t worry, Fiona. I’ll make sure no one takes advantage of you.”

Something in his tone made my stomach twist.

Still, a part of me wanted the escape—the mystery, the distraction from Jalen’s kiss. So I gave in.

“Fine, but I don’t have a worthy dress.”

“That’s nothing. We’ll stop by my room. Speaking of rooms—have you heard Kelly was rusticated? You practically own yours now,” Paris said casually.

My eyes widened. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or disturbed. “Why?”

“Rumor says she was caught fucking a professor. Dating him for over a year. Like, which man in his right mind would date Kelly? She’s a bully, she’s fat, and ugly—yuck.”

“And the professor?”

“Fired,” Jude added.

My heart skipped. I didn’t realize the school was that strict. I tried not to think too deeply about it, but my stomach tightened. I needed to be careful around Jalen.

⸻

Hours later, we arrived at the ball. The music throbbed through the night like a heartbeat. The venue looked like a million-dollar project—a lavish, dimly lit hall hidden behind the art department, glowing with hues of red and gold. Masks of every shimmer drifted through the crowd.

Paris vanished instantly with someone in a black half-mask. Jude followed. I stayed back, clutching a glass of champagne I didn’t plan to drink.

My mask hugged my face, making me feel like someone else.

For once, I felt like just a girl lost in the night.

Then I felt it—someone watching me.

I turned and saw him.

A man in a black mask. Tall, composed, broad shoulders, perfect suit. But what made my pulse falter wasn’t his confidence. It was his scent—warm sandalwood mixed with something richer.

I knew that scent.

He approached silently and extended a hand. I hesitated, then took it. His palm was warm and steady—like Jalen’s.

We danced.

Not to rhythm, but to tension. To desire. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. I couldn’t see his eyes well, but I wished I could rip off his mask every time he leaned in.

“Who are you?” I breathed.

He didn’t answer. His lips brushed my ear.

“Does it matter?”

His voice—low, deep, familiar—shook my knees.

The world around us faded. His fingers traced my wrist, sending sparks up my arm. Then he kissed me—soft, curious, then deeper, hungry. I melted. The taste of forbidden desire wiped out every rational thought.

“Come with me,” he murmured.

I nodded and followed him to a secluded balcony. My heart ached—I was following someone I wasn’t even sure about.

The cool night breeze kissed my skin. He took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, then pulled me into another kiss—hotter, fiercer. Too familiar.

His hand slid under my skirt and pinched my clit.

“Fuck—”

“Shhh…” he hushed me, pressing a finger against my lips. “Don’t make noise.”

I let myself sink into him, moaning softly as my body arched to his touch.

“Who are you?” I asked again.

I reached for his mask, but he stepped back and walked away.

“Wait—I’m sorry…” I called, following him. But he didn’t look back.

“Your jacket!” I shouted.

He paused.