CHAPTER ONE

Ava Sterling couldn't breathe.

Not because the classroom was warm — the AC was humming softly. Not because the students were loud — they were stunned silent.  

But because he was standing ten feet in front of her.

Dr. William Reid.

Same cutting jawline. Same intense eyes. Same smug, unreadable expression.

Only now he wasn’t some random man in a dark club.  

He was her professor.

Ava sank lower in her seat, heart hammering against her ribs. Camille nudged her under the desk.

“Is that man from the club.” Camille mouthed, eyes wide, "Do you think he recognize us?"

Ava didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mouth was dry, her hands frozen.

William Reid’s gaze slowly swept over the room as he introduced himself, but Ava felt it the moment it landed on her again — like a blade brushing across her skin. No recognition in his voice. No mention of their memorable encounter.

He just smiled that calm, wicked smile.

“Literature is not a soft science,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You don’t just analyze words — you dissect them. You don’t study characters — you expose them. This class is not for the weak. And if that frightens you…” His gaze found hers again. “…you’re welcome to drop.”

The class chuckled nervously. Ava clenched her jaw.

He knew.  

He recognized her.

That line — it was for her.

The man she slapped. The man she stared down like a punishment.  

Now holding her grade — her future — in his very capable hands.

She felt a flash of heat crawl up her neck. Whether it was from shame, anger, or the way his voice curved around his words like sin, she couldn’t tell.

But she knew one thing: this semester was about to be hell.

----

After class, she tried to rush out unnoticed, but his voice stopped her cold.

“Miss Sterling. Am I correct?”

Half the room turned.

Ava froze, plastering a calm smile on her face before pivoting to face him.

“Yes, Dr. Reid?”

He tilted his head slightly. “I believe you owe me something.”

Her breath caught. Was he really going to bring it up here?

She straightened. “My assignment will be on time, if that’s what you mean.”

That slow, dangerous smirk again.

“That’s not what I meant. But we’ll talk... in my office.”

The way he said "my office" made her stomach flip — not from nerves, but from something hotter. Something she didn’t want to name.

"Be there in five minutes." he added.

She nodded stiffly and turned, Camille hot on her heels.

“You’re screwed,” Camille whispered as they left.  

Ava didn’t disagree.

Because as much as she hated to admit it…

She might already be looking forward to that office.

---

Ten minutes later, Ava stood outside Dr. Reid’s office, staring at the dark wood door like it might swallow her whole.

Room 314. English Department.  

She was already five minutes late. On purpose.

She wasn’t scared. Not really.  

But she wasn’t prepared either — for the man waiting behind that door, or for the way her body still reacted to the memory of her hand on his cheek.

She knocked once, sharp and quick.

“Come in.”

His voice — low, controlled — slid through her like smoke.

She opened the door slowly, stepping into a space that was painfully him.  

Dark shelves. Stacks of books. Heavy scent of his cologne.  

And at the center, Dr. William Reid — suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, leaning back in his chair like he was expecting her… and enjoying it.

“Miss Sterling,” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of him.  

“Shut the door.”

She hesitated. That felt… loaded.

Still, she obeyed, shutting the door with a soft click that sounded a lot like trouble.

She sat, crossing her legs and lifting her chin.

“If this is about the slap, I’m sure there’s a formal complaint form you can fill out.”

He chuckled — low and slow.

“You assaulted a faculty member.”

His voice was calm, but there was heat under it.  “Technically, I could have you suspended.”

Ava smirked. “Technically, I thought you were harassing my friend.”

“And technically, I wasn’t.”

Silence.

Their eyes locked.

It was maddening — the way he looked at her. Not like a student. Not even like a nuisance.

Like a challenge.

“Are you going to finally apologize,” he said, voice dipping.

Ava raised a brow.  “No.”

He stood, slowly — like he had all the time in the world. He walked around the desk and leaned back against it, now towering over her seated form.

Her breath caught.

He didn’t touch her. Didn’t move.

Just stood there, staring. "Well, I wasn't going to accept your apology either. It's rather too late."

"Then it's good that I didn't bother." she retorts.

“You’re reckless,” he murmured.  “Impulsive. Arrogant.”

“And you’re enjoying it,” she shot back.

The tension cracked like static.

A long pause. Then:

“You shouldn’t test me, Miss Sterling,” he said, voice dark now.  “I’m not a boy you can play with.”

“Good,” she whispered.  “Because I’m not a girl who plays nice.”

His gaze dropped — to her mouth, her throat, then back up.

“Leave,” he said finally, voice taut. “Before I forget I’m your professor.”

Ava stood, slowly, her pulse pounding.

She walked to the door, paused, and without turning around, said:

“Too late.”

Then she left, her heels clicking down the hall — heart racing, body on fire.

She didn’t look back.

But she knew he was still watching.