Sofia Carson is flunking out of college, partying too hard, and one test away from losing everything. So when her friends suggest stealing the answer sheet from the hottest—and most feared—professor on campus, she takes the bait. But Professor Lucien Drake, famously known as Professor Grumpy Pants, isn’t just strict… he’s dangerously attentive. And he's been watching her. He catches her. Cornered, humiliated, and expecting punishment—he gives her a choice instead. One that’s filthy, wrong… and impossible to forget. Now Sofia is living a double life: wild party girl by day, obedient student by night. Lucien demands discipline, and she finds herself craving every forbidden touch, every teasing smirk, every wicked command. What started as a deal turns into something deeper. Something obsessive. Something neither of them are ready to admit. But secrets never stay hidden. With jealous rivals, her golden-boy crush suddenly noticing her, and Lucien’s icy ex back in the picture, the heat becomes a wildfire. And Sofia has to ask herself: Is this just lust? Or is she falling for the one man who could ruin her… forever? She was supposed to hate him. She wasn’t supposed to crave him. She definitely wasn’t supposed to fall in love. He was supposed to teach her a lesson. She never expected to want more. Spicy. Scandalous. Addictive.
View MoreSofia Pov
I have never done anything so risky in my life, but here I am, fumbling with the locks outside Professor Lucien Drake's office—about to break in. The hallway is too quiet. My fingers tremble as I jiggle the key, praying no one walks by. Every click of the metal sounds like a gunshot. You're probably wondering why I'm here. Good. Because my heart is about to burst out of my chest. Maybe letting my mind wander will ease my trembling fingers. So—my friends and I have been partying all week. The College Titanic football team won three matches in a row, so of course, we celebrated like idiots. Which means... we didn’t study. At all. For Professor Drake’s big test. The one that’s 45% of our grade. I have two friends—Mia and Keira. Lovely, reckless, bad-decision-making Mia and Keira. They're the reason I’m about to fail this class... unless I manage to break into this office and snap a photo of tomorrow’s test. My phone dings. I yank it out, already hating the message on the screen. Hurry, Sofia. The staff meeting ends in twenty minutes. “Fuck,” I hiss as the lock finally clicks open. I slip inside. The office is... immaculate. Of course it is. Just like Professor Drake—always sharp, serious, and terrifyingly clean-cut. Everything’s lined up. Where do I start? I dash to the cabinet. Yank it open. Bingo. I smile, grab my phone, and take a quick shot of the paper sitting neatly on the top shelf. Questions. Objective answers. I got it. Another ping. Ten minutes left. Hurry. I mutter another curse, slam the cabinet shut, and turn to run—only to freeze. He’s there. Professor Drake. Standing in the doorway. His arms are crossed. His jaw is tight. And he is not smiling. "What are you doing in here?" he asks with a death stare My phone must have slipped out of my trembling hands, because I only hear it crashing on the floor. "Professor Drake?" My voice comes out shakier than I anticipate. His jaw ticks as he steps into the office, shutting the door behind him. "What were you doing in here?" he asks, a little more quietly, but I can feel the anger behind every word. “I came to ask for an explanation on last lesson.” Liar. Big fat liar. And I didn’t even blink when I said it. God, I deserve an Oscar—or prison. My heart is pounding fast. I thought I still had ten minutes. How did he get here so fast? I don't know why I agreed with Mia and Keira on this, but looking back, this was a suicide mission. I'm dead. I know that, as Professor Drake bends down and picks up my phone. I almost pee in my clothes. My phone is brightly displaying the last photo I clicked—the answer booklet. I press my lips together to stop myself from breaking down in tears. Getting caught in something like this doesn't need debating—I'm going to get expelled. Professor Drake is staring at my phone screen like it’s an alien object. His expression doesn’t change as his eyes meet mine. I shudder. His eyes are the strangest black I have ever seen, and God, this man is intimidating. “Explanation on the last lesson, huh? Your phone seems to be saying something else, Sophia Carson.” “You know my name.” I almost forget I should be pleading when my name rolls off his lips—painfully perfect. “Sophia Carson. Recently turned 21. Lives with her grandmother because her parents are divorced and both parties recently remarried.” I shudder. It gives off weird.A slow chill creeps up my spine. How does he know all that? “I know all my students, Miss Carson.” I relax. He’s just a detailed lecturer.Or maybe just a very intense one. My phone dings. His eyes are on the screen, and his lips tilt a bit. “You have really good friends, don’t you, Miss Carson?” I want to disappear. Mia and Keira are only going to make everything worse with their endless texting. God, what was I thinking? I wouldn’t have been in this mess if they didn’t push me into it. No—if I didn’t let them. “Professor—” He cuts me off with a raise of his index finger as he tosses my phone on his desk. The silence between us stretches—painfully. I know nothing is going to change his mind from reporting me to the Disciplinary Committee, but I don’t want to get expelled. Grandma Tessa would be so disappointed. I don’t know how I’d feel if she looks at me with those sad brown eyes.I swallow hard, but my throat feels like sandpaper. My heart is punching my ribcage. My phone dings again. Professor Drake is staring at the screen like it’s an enemy zone. He doesn’t say anything. His jaw ticks. His brow twitches. “So I’m Professor Grumpy Pants, huh?” He doesn't smile. “Shit.” I wince. That’s the nickname we gave Professor Drake. No one has actually seen him smile, so most of us call him Grumpy Pants. Doesn’t mean we should actually say it to his face. My throat is so dry it actually begins to hurt. He finally looks up, his expression unreadable. “I could report you to the Disciplinary Committee.” “Please don’t. I don’t wanna get expelled.” “Shut up and listen,” he snaps. Every part of me goes still as I look at him. His hands go to his tie, loosening it, and he unbuttons the first two buttons on his shirt.I look away. Why is he even hotter when he’s angry? Focus, Sofia. You’re in trouble—not a rom-com. Either way, you ain't supposed to check out your older professor. That's disgusting. Professor Lucien Drake is obviously good-looking—standing at six feet, with flawless skin and perfect teeth. He’s probably a sight for the female teachers’ sore eyes. Actually, female students like him too, but whenever they approach him, he doesn’t entertain them—which brought about the name Grumpy Pants. "As I said, I could report you to the school disciplinary committee, but..." I don’t wait for him to finish. My heart somersaults in panic, pounding so loud it feels like it might burst through my chest. Cold tile presses against my knees as I fall, begging him like my life depends on it. "Please, my grandma might die of a heart attack." A slow, dangerous grin spreads across his face. I feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and unreadable, and it sends a shiver down my spine. "I may decide to let this go and punish you myself—if you cooperate, Miss Carson." "You will let this go?" I ask, my voice trembling, using my shoulder to wipe the tears that roll down my cheeks. I lift my eyes to his, searching for any hint of mercy. He leans against the desk slowly, unbothered by my pathetic tears. "Like I said, if only you cooperate." Cooperate? It doesn’t sound good—the way his eyes darken as he stares down at me. “And allow me punish you myself.” My breath catches. What does he mean by punish? My mind races with every possible scenario—none of them good. Yet part of me—terrified, confused, and foolish—can’t look away. “How do you intend to punish me, Professor Drake?” His eyes darken more. Something in them flickers—dangerous, deliberate. In a voice so calm, it almost makes me groan, he says, “Get up and come here.” It’s low. Too low. It scrapes something raw in me. A shiver runs down my spine. My knees feel weak, but not from fear alone. For some wrong reason, I can’t breathe anymore. “Come here, Sofia.” My eyes stay locked on Professor Lucien as my heart hammers against my ribs. Of course I know what he wants. Or maybe I have an idea. Or maybe I’m dead wrong… But the look in his eyes says it all: I want to fuck you. “Come here. Sofia.” My fingers curl at my sides as my cheeks burn in embarrassment. Why do I want to listen?Sofia's Pov “Titanic, Titanic, Titanic!” Our section roars, the chant pulsing through the air like a heartbeat. Banners wave, hands clap, the whole bleacher sways with energy.Our section is on fire."Go Titanic boys!" Mia yells again, punching the air. "Make us proud, pretty boy!""GO LEO! BREAK SOME RIBS—wait, not like that!" she adds, and I snort.Kiera eyes her from the corner of her mouth. "You break that chair and you’re paying for it."Mia flips her hair like a diva. "Relax. It's barely wobbling—OH!"The chair tips and Mia flails before catching her balance.“See? Fine.”Kiera just sighs. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”“You guys should cheer!” Mia huffs. “If this ends in a draw, they’ll go to penalties. Do you want to watch Elijah take a shot and miss?”Kiera shrugs. “I kind of do. He’s so dramatic. He’ll probably cry on the field and still look hot doing it.”My mouth opens. “He’s not that dramatic—”They both freeze.So do I.Damn it.Mia turns slowly. “Sofia.”Ki
Sofia's Pov I slam the door behind me, chest heaving. Darkness wraps around me. When did it get this late? I fumble for my phone, heart thudding as the screen lights up. 7:03 PM. Shit. A wall of notifications floods the screen—missed calls from Mia, Kiera… even Grandma. Twelve in total. My stomach knots. I’m so screwed. I order a ride and just as I'm about to breathe, a notification pings. “Pick-up point set to estate entrance. Taxis are not allowed inside.” Of course. “Ugh, seriously?” I curse under my breath, shoving my phone into my bag. I start walking fast, the shadows stretching as I pass, cold air biting at my arms. Why does this night keep getting worse? I jog, the wind whipping across my face, stinging my eyes. My heart’s racing, my fingers won’t stop trembling. It takes over ten minutes—ten long, breathless minutes—before I finally round the corner and spot a taxi idling just past the gate. I slow down, walk past the estate entrance, and slide
Lucien's Pov She is bent over the textbook again, underlining something softly, her lips moving as she reads aloud to herself — almost like a whisper meant only for the page. She doesn’t even notice I haven’t said anything in a while. I rub the back of my neck. I’ve been watching too long. I push back my chair and stand. “I need a drink,” I mutter, already heading for the kitchen. “Water, please,” she calls, like we do this often. Like she belongs here. I open the fridge, grip the edge of the door. The cold bottle cools my palm, but my throat still feels dry. I twist open the bottle and take a swig. The cold rush helps. Sort of. Footsteps pad behind me. “Is that juice?” she asks, voice soft, curious. I turn halfway. She’s leaning on the doorframe now, eyes on the bottle. Barefoot. Comfortable. "It’s water. Let me get you one." I pull the freezer door open, the cool air washing over my skin as I reach in. Bottles clink. I grab one, condensation already slick across the s
Lucien's Pov My phone buzzes as I hit the third step. "Michael," I mutter, sliding over the green icon without slowing down. His voice comes in too bright. “Hey man! Just checking if you’ve started on the designs.” Of course he is. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’ll call you when I’m done.” I say flatly, ending the call before he can start rambling. I toss the phone onto the bed. By the time I reach the bathroom, my head’s already pounding. I shut my eyes under the spray, letting the water slam into me, hard and cold. Maybe it’ll knock some sense back in. Maybe it won’t. I yank off my shirt, the fabric dragging across my skin like a tease I didn’t ask for. My pants follow, and the friction—God—my body reacts before I can stop it. A groan slips out, uninvited. “Arrgh… Sofia.” Her name scrapes out of me before I can swallow it back. I squeeze my eyes shut, biting down hard on my lower lip. That’s her move—exactly how she does it. She gnaws on it until it turns pink and sw
Sofia's Pov “Your fiancée.”I blink.Just that. Blink. Like that word didn’t just gut me like a blade in silk.I turn to the window.The trees blur past.My reflection stares back—lips parted like an idiot. Eyes wide like I didn’t already know men like him come wrapped in red flags and designer charm.He has a fiancée.And here I was — falling apart in dressing rooms, letting him pull the curtain closed like we were the only two people in the world.God.I press my palm to my chest, but the ache stays. Heavy. Sharp. Like guilt that doesn’t belong to me.So he has a fiancée… and still looked at me like that?Still bought me clothes, still watched me in mirrors, still leaned in like he wanted to kiss me stupid.What a jerk.A beautiful, controlled, maddening jerk.My throat burns, but I don’t let it show.I won’t give him the satisfaction.Not even a flinch.I cross my legs. “Sounds serious,” I say, voice too even — like I didn’t just feel something twist behind my ribs.He doesn’t ans
Sofia Pov. Flashback “Mom, look at the dress Dad got me for my birthday!” I rush into her room, holding it out with both hands like it’s made of gold. She turns, mid-makeup, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Your father got you a dress? For what party?” I blink. “Mom, it’s my seventeenth birthday. You said I could throw a party this year.” “Oh, did I?” she says, too lightly. “That’s funny. I also remember telling you to go to Pilates. Maybe hit the gym once in a while. And for some reason… that didn’t happen either.” “Mom—” “Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking.” I clench the fabric. “Nobody cares about that. Just—look at this dress. It’s gorgeous.” She scoffs. “I pity the dress.” “Seriously?” “Don’t ‘Mom’ me, Sofia. Maybe if you’d joined the damn Pilates class like I told you, we’d have something to celebrate.” “Dad said he’d cover everything.” She sets her makeup brush down. Slowly. “Okay.” I barely register the shift in her voice before she crosses the room. “
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