CHAPTER THREE

That Friday, after school hours. The campus was quiet.

The kind of quiet that settled after hours — when the sun dipped low and most students had gone home or were off chasing some version of freedom. Ava Sterling walked the nearly empty hallway of the English Department, her heels clicking softly against the tile floor.

Room 314.

Again.

She adjusted her blouse — not too much, just enough — and took a steadying breath before knocking.

The door opened almost immediately.

Dr. William Reid stood there, no jacket, no tie, sleeves rolled high, two buttons undone. He looked as if he hadn’t moved since she left on Monday — like he had been waiting.

“Miss Sterling,” he said, stepping aside.

“Professor,” she replied softly.

He shut the door behind her. Then — click. The lock turned.

Ava’s eyes flicked toward it. He didn’t explain. He didn’t need to.

The air between them was already heavier than it should be.

“Let’s get started,” he said, moving behind his desk and gesturing to the chair beside it instead of the one across.

Not the usual spot. Closer.

She observed as she sat.

He slid the marked-up essay toward her, his fingers brushing hers — deliberately or not, she couldn’t tell. But she felt it. Every inch of it.

They began to go over it.

Paragraph by paragraph. Sentence by sentence.  

His voice was calm but sharp. He didn’t let her off easy. He pointed out flaws — lack of depth, lazy phrasing, rushed conclusions.

She should’ve been angry. Defensive. But she wasn’t.

She was burning.

Because between the red ink and academic critique were stolen glances.  

Lingering touches on the page. A subtle lean that brought his mouth just inches from her ear.

Her breath caught every time.

Her feminine core, a weeping mess.

And still… when they reached the end of the essay, he closed the file.

“The grade stands.”

Ava’s stomach sank.

“But—”

He looked at her — not cruelly, not smugly. Just… unreadable.

“You’re capable of better,” he said.  

“I’m not here to coddle you, Ava. You want an A? Earn it.”

The sound of her name on his lips — low, smooth — twisted something inside her.

And she knew her panties were already a mess.

She stared at the paper, her voice softer now.

“I need that grade.”

A beat of silence.

“You already said that,” he replied, leaning back slightly, watching her.

She turned toward him, slowly — something bold sparking in her chest.  

Pride was gone. Desperation had taken its place.

“Then what do you want, Dr. Reid? What do I have to do?”

Her voice was low now. Intimate.  

“What would it take… to change your mind?” she added, as she freed a button of her blouse, giving him a sneek peak of her boobs.

His eyes darkened.

He stood suddenly, walking around the desk, stopping just behind her.

“You think you can offer me yourself in exchange for a letter grade?”

She turned to face him, still seated.

“Would you say no?” she whispered.

Silence stretched between them.

Then — his hand came to rest on the desk beside her, his other grazing the back of her chair. Not touching her.

Not yet.

“You have no idea what you’re playing with,” he said, voice like smoke.

“Then show me.”

Their eyes locked.

One breath.  

Two.

And then — just when she thought he might take what she was offering — he stepped back.

“You should leave,” he said, voice tight.

She stood slowly. Walked to the door. Turned back.

“Offer still stands.”

And then she was gone.

----

Here’s *Chapter Five* — deeper, darker, and full of internal conflict:

---

Dr. William Reid drove home in silence, the low hum of his engine barely covering the noise in his head.

Ava Sterling.

That name had no right taking up so much space in his mind — but it did. Every syllable echoed. Every glance she gave him replayed on a loop. And that voice, soft yet defiant, still rang in his ears:

“What would it take to change your mind?”

“Would you say no?”

God help him — no, he wouldn’t.

She was young. Reckless. Bold.  

And stunning.

Full lips. Sharp eyes. A body made to test a man’s limits — curves that moved with intent, like she knew what she was doing.

She wasn’t just temptation.  

She was a trap… and he was already halfway caught in it.

By the time he stepped into his house, he was on edge. His jaw was tight. His fists clenched.

The lights in the hallway were dim. A soft classical piece played faintly from the living room.

“You’re late,” came his wife’s voice — clipped and cool.

Vanessa stood at the entrance to his study in a silk robe, wine glass in hand. Perfect posture. Perfect makeup. A perfect shell.

He offered a grunt as reply and slipped into the room behind her, needing space to think.

She followed.

“Still brooding in the dark?” she teased, stepping in without knocking, as always.

He didn’t respond.

His thoughts were still on Ava — the way her breath hitched when he leaned close, the challenge in her voice, her perfect boobs she had given him a peek of.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“You’ve been distracted lately.”

Vanessa set her glass down. “I miss us, William.”

Us? He almost laughed. What us?

But before he could dismiss her, she crossed the room and ran her fingers up his arm.

“Come to bed with me tonight,” she whispered.

It wasn’t a request. It was expectation dressed as affection.

He gave a slow nod, letting her lead him to the bedroom like a man walking to his own execution.

Later, when she was beneath him, sighing his name, nails scratching lightly down his back — he tried.

He tried to stay in the moment. Tried to feel something. Anything.

But all he saw was her.

Ava.  

Dark lashes fluttering. Lips parted in surprise. That blouse, just a bit too tight. Her soft voice whispering,

"Offer still stands."

His rhythm faltered.

Vanessa moaned, as he plunged harder into her, the way he wished he had taken Ava on his desk tonight.

He buried his face into her neck — not out of passion, but to hide the truth in his eyes.

He wasn’t here.  

Not really.

He was in a locked office, with a student who stared at him like she knew the devil inside him and dared him to unleash it.

And when he came — it wasn’t Vanessa’s name he bit into the pillow to keep from saying.

It was Ava’s.