Início / Romance / In My Professor's Arms / Capítulo 161 - Capítulo 170

Todos os capítulos de In My Professor's Arms : Capítulo 161 - Capítulo 170

200 Capítulos

Sugar Kisses

Morning sun pours through the wide windows of the Aurora Press office. I wake early, perched on the edge of the desk where we wrecked each other last night. The wood feels cool against my bare thighs. Golden light spills everywhere, turning the scattered papers into tiny rafts of gold.The air still carries the thick, heady musk of our sex. It mixes with the sharp scent of fresh coffee brewing in the corner machine. I reach for Victor’s discarded shirt and pull it over my naked body. The cotton is soft, still warm from his skin, and it smells like his woody cologne. I inhale deeply and feel my pulse kick between my legs.My fingers fly across the laptop keys. The clack is steady, almost musical. I pour every filthy, perfect moment of last night into a new post for “Whispers in the Dark.” The words come out raw and dripping with heat. I write about the way he stretched me open, the way he growled my name, the way he made me come so hard I saw stars. Every line is a

Competition Thrill

Morning sunlight pours through the wide windows of my new apartment. It splashes golden light across the scattered moving boxes and the glowing laptop on my desk. The air carries a faint buzz from the city waking up below. I catch a whiff of fresh bread drifting up from the bakery downstairs. My stomach growls in response. I sit curled up in Victor’s oversized shirt. The fabric feels soft and warm against my skin. His woody scent clings to every thread. It pulls me straight back to our wild night at Aurora Press. I sip my coffee. The bitter heat slides down my throat. I hit refresh on my blog, “Whispers in the Dark.” The numbers explode before my eyes. Five thousand views. Then ten thousand. Likes and comments flood in like a tidal wave. They all spark from the steamy post I dropped about Victor last night. My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my fingertips. I lean back against the couch. It creaks under my weight. I scroll through the feedback. One comment reads, “S

Twenty-Eight Thousand Views

Morning sun spills through the wide windows of my new apartment. It paints golden streaks across half-unpacked boxes and the laptop still glowing on my desk. The screen shows the tail end of last night’s writing marathon. The air smells like leftover curry from yesterday. It mixes with the clean bite of rain drumming against the glass. The soft patter tugs me fully awake.I stretch hard. My joints pop in protest. Victor’s white shirt slides off one shoulder. The cotton is worn soft from a hundred washes. It carries his woody cologne and something warmer, something that settles low in my belly. My phone vibrates on the nightstand. The screen lights up with notifications. My pulse jumps. The blog stats stare back at me. “Whispers in the Dark” just hit twenty thousand views. Ivy’s latest piece, “Velvet Secrets,” is climbing faster. Her numbers tick upward like a taunt.I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The hardwood floor is cool against my bare feet. I shuffle

Watch My Back?

Morning sun slips through the wide windows of my new apartment. It paints soft golden streaks across the scattered moving boxes. The light also dances over my laptop, which sits open on the coffee table like a loyal soldier. I crashed on the couch last night after hours of rivalry-fueled typing. The air still carries a faint whiff of yesterday’s pizza grease. It mixes with the crisp scent of dawn that filters in from outside. I wake up slowly. My neck feels stiff from the awkward angle. Victor’s shirt twists around my body. The fabric stays warm and soft against my skin. I stretch my arms high above my head. My joints pop in protest. I reach for my phone on the floor. The screen lights up with a flood of notifications.Thirty thousand views on “Whispers in the Dark.” My heart races with excitement. The competition feels like a live wire buzzing under my skin. Ivy’s “Velvet Secrets” sits right behind me, nipping at my heels. I shuffle to the kitchen. The tiles feel cold unde

Groomed?

Morning sun slips through the wide windows of my new apartment. Golden light spills over the scattered moving boxes. It lands on the laptop that sits closed on the desk. That machine has been my lifeline for months. I shut it down last night in a haze of tension. The air feels thick. It carries the faint spice from yesterday’s tacos. There’s also the damp scent of rain that still lingers outside. The smell is a quiet reminder of the storm that brews inside me.I wake up on the couch. My body is stiff from the awkward position. Victor’s shirt clings to my skin. The fabric is soft, but it is damp with sweat from restless dreams. My phone buzzes on the coffee table. The screen lights up with a flood of notifications. I grab it quickly. My stomach twists as I glance at the blog stats. “Whispers in the Dark” has hit forty thousand views. That should feel like a victory. A new alert stops me cold.I sit up straight. The leather couch creaks under my weight. I open the ap

High Tension

Sunlight pours through the wide windows of my new apartment. It paints golden streaks across the half-unpacked boxes and the laptop I abandoned last night. The screen stays dark, a silent witness to the tense video call with Victor. The air hangs heavy. A faint vanilla scent lingers from the candle that burned itself out on the coffee table. It mixes with the sharp, clean smell of early rain tapping against the glass panes.I wake up on the couch. My body feels like lead. Victor’s shirt twists around my torso. The fabric clings to my skin, soft yet damp from the sweat of restless dreams. Those dreams keep replaying that anonymous post. The one that turned everything upside down. My phone buzzes on the coffee table. The screen lights up with a string of missed calls from Victor. My heart drops into my stomach. I snatch the phone. A voicemail waits, timestamped an hour ago. I press play. His voice comes through shaky and strained. “Lily, I’m at the hospital. Call me.”

Dr. Lena

The hospital room feels too bright under the fluorescent lights. They buzz faintly overhead and throw a cold, clinical glow across the crisp white sheets. My thin gown scratches against my skin every time I move. The air smells sharp with antiseptic and a faint metallic bite from all the machines. I shift in the bed, still weak from yesterday’s collapse. The memory of hitting the office floor flashes behind my eyes. It is late afternoon now. The sun dips low outside and sends golden slivers through the half-closed blinds. I glance at the clock on the wall. It reads 4:37 PM, Tuesday, November 11, 2025. Lily left after her morning visit. That brief moment of comfort already feels too far away. I toy with the IV line taped to my hand. The plastic feels cool and foreign under my fingertips. I wait for her to come back.The door creaks open. Dr. Lena steps inside. Her white coat swishes softly around her knees. She has pulled her dark hair into a neat ponytail. A clipb

We Find that Bitch

Morning sunlight pours through the wide windows of my new apartment. It spreads a soft golden glow over the scattered moving boxes and the leather couch where I spent the night tossing restlessly. My body stays tense from dreams packed with shadowed threats. The air hangs still and heavy. It carries the faint woody scent of Victor’s shirt, which I draped over myself like a blanket. The crisp bite of dawn sneaks in through the cracked window and mixes with everything else.I wake up to the sound of my joints popping as I stretch. The leather creaks beneath me. I rub my eyes and stand up slowly. The cool hardwood floor presses against my bare feet. My phone sits on the coffee table and suddenly glows. A new text lights up the screen from Victor. It says he is out of the hospital and on his way to me. A massive wave of relief crashes over my body. My heart starts pounding with pure hope.The door clicks open a moment later. Victor steps inside. His broad frame hunches

Crazy Delusion

The morning sun slices through the wide windows of my new apartment. Golden beams streak across the scattered moving boxes. They also light up the couch where I’ve been pacing since dawn. My heart pounds with raw anticipation.The air feels thick. It carries the bitter ghost of last night’s coffee. A crisp new-day breeze sneaks in through the cracked window. Everything contrasts sharply with the knot twisting inside my gut.I’m still wearing Victor’s shirt. The fabric brushes soft against my skin. His woody scent clings faintly now. It’s the only comfort I have while I wait.My phone buzzes on the coffee table. An unknown number flashes on the screen. I snatch it up. My fingers tremble as I swipe to answer.A gruff voice cuts through the line. “This is Officer Patel. We’ve arrested Clara Holt. Can you come to the station?”My breath snags in my throat. Relief slams into shock. I nod even though he can’t see me. I rush to yank on jeans. Th

Zero Fucks Given

Morning sunlight pours through the wide windows of my new apartment. It casts a soft golden glow over the scattered moving boxes. The light also warms the couch where I have been sitting since dawn. My mind still reels from Clara Holt’s wild confession yesterday. The air feels lighter today. It carries the faint scent of vanilla from the candle I lit last night. A crisp breeze sneaks in through the cracked window. The breeze brings a quiet shift after the storm of her arrest.I stay wrapped in Victor’s shirt. The fabric feels warm and soft against my skin. His woody scent comforts me like a private embrace. My phone buzzes on the coffee table. A text from Victor lights up the screen. “Clara’s issuing an apology. Watch it live.” My heart skips a beat. Relief and curiosity finally mingle inside my chest. I reach for the remote. The TV hums to life with a soft click.The screen flickers. There she is. Clara sits in a stark room. Her face looks pale. Her hair is tamed

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