chapter 3

Derrick's POV

I arrived at the auditorium forty minutes before class started, my coffee still steaming in the empty room. Susan's shrill voice had pierced through my sleep at five in the morning, screaming about some missing quarterly report that she later found exactly where she had left it. Even after she discovered her mistake, sleep would not return. I had lain in bed staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster until my alarm finally rang.

Now exhaustion tugged at my eyelids as I arranged my lecture notes on the podium. But the moment students began trickling through the doors, alertness shot through my system like caffeine.

The seventh person to enter made my breath catch in my throat.

Eliana moved down the aisle in a red dress that hugged every curve of her body. The fabric clung to her hips, skimmed her thighs, and made my mouth go dry. Heat pooled low in my belly as I watched her choose a seat in the fifth row. When she settled into her chair and glanced toward the front, our eyes met. She offered a shy smile that made something twist in my chest before she looked away, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

I gripped the edge of the podium to steady myself.

"Good morning, class." My voice came out rougher than usual. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Who is going to read for us today?"

Several hands shot up around the room. Eliana raised hers among them, and without thinking, I pointed directly at her.

She stood gracefully, and the red dress shifted with her movement, revealing the elegant line of her neck, the way the fabric draped across her chest. I forced myself to focus on her face as she began reading Joyce's carefully crafted sentences.

Her voice was smooth and clear, but I could barely process the words. My gaze kept drifting to her lips as they shaped each syllable, to the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when it fell across her face.

A soft giggle broke through my trance. Then another.

Eliana stopped reading mid-sentence and looked around the room with confusion. Whispers rippled through the auditorium like wind through wheat. Students covered their mouths with their hands, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

"What is going on?" I demanded, irritation flaring in my chest.

The giggles multiplied. Someone pointed. Heat crawled up my neck as I realized what had captured their attention.

"William, want to tell the class why you and your friends are disrupting us?"

William tried to contain his laughter but failed. "You have a little situation down there, sir."

I glanced down and my stomach dropped. The front of my dress pants showed clear evidence of exactly what Eliana and her red dress had done to me.

The entire auditorium erupted. Students doubled over with laughter, pointing and whispering to each other. My face burned with humiliation as I grabbed my books and fled the room.

In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face and gripped the sink until my knuckles went white. Ten minutes of deep breathing and strategic thinking finally brought my body back under control. When I returned to the auditorium, the students had settled into uncomfortable silence.

We finished the class without further incident, though I made sure to stay safely behind the podium.

As students packed their bags and filed toward the exits, I called out, "Eliana."

She approached the front immediately, as if she had been waiting for me to say her name. Today Annabelle was nowhere to be seen—I had not spotted her dark hair anywhere in the auditorium during class.

"Can you come by my office later?" I asked, keeping my voice professionally neutral. "I have a special assignment for you."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "I do not know where your office is."

"Come with me and I will show you."

We walked through the corridors in comfortable silence. Her presence beside me felt electric—I was hyperaware of every step she took, every breath she drew. When we reached my office door, I fumbled in my jacket pocket for my keys.

Nothing.

I tried my pants pocket. Empty.

"Here. Can you hold this for me?" I handed her my stack of books, and as she took them from me, my fingers brushed against her palm.

The contact sent a jolt up my arm. We both froze, staring at each other. Her lips parted slightly, and for a heartbeat neither of us moved. Then I forced myself to continue searching.

The keys had somehow worked their way to the very bottom of my jacket pocket. I unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter first.

"You can have a seat," I said, indicating the chair across from my desk.

When I took the books back from her, I made sure our hands touched again. This time the contact lingered a fraction longer than necessary. Her breathing quickened almost imperceptibly.

I shrugged out of my jacket and hung it carefully on my chair, then settled behind my desk. The afternoon sunlight streaming through my window caught the gold highlights in her hair.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you." Her voice came out softer than usual.

She let her gaze wander around my office—the organized bookshelves, the neat stacks of papers, the framed degrees on the wall. When her eyes returned to mine, something sparked between us.

"You have a very neat office," she murmured.

"Thank you. I cannot stand disorder. I prefer to keep everything exactly where it belongs."

"What is the special assignment you mentioned?" Her words came out in a rush, as if she was trying to maintain some professional distance between us.

I had almost forgotten my excuse for bringing her here. Opening my desk drawer, I pulled out an article I had been working on and placed it in front of her.

"I am writing an analysis for a literary magazine, but something feels incomplete. I was hoping you could review it and give me your feedback tomorrow. Would that be possible?"

She glanced at the pages, and I found myself studying the curve of her neck as she read. "Yes, I can do that. Is that all?"

No. I want to know what you are wearing under that dress. I want to know if your skin is as soft as it looks. I want to know what sounds you would make if I kissed that spot where your neck meets your shoulder, I thought.

"Yes, Eliana. That is all." I stood as she gathered the papers. "You look very beautiful today, by the way."

Color flooded her cheeks. She rose quickly from her chair. "Thank you, sir." I will read through this and give you my opinion tomorrow."

After she left, I sank back into my chair and ran my hands through my hair. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that red dress. The way she had looked at me when our hands touched. The quick intake of breath when I complimented her.

I was playing with fire, and I knew it. But I had not felt this alive in years. Susan and I had been going through the motions of marriage for so long that I had forgotten what desire felt like. What it meant to want someone so badly it made your hands shake.

I could have Eliana if I wanted her. The way she responded to me, the way she lingered after class—she felt it too. All I had to do was be patient. Wait for the right moment. Let the tension build until she could not resist any more than I could.

It was only a matter of time.