บททั้งหมดของ Dirty and Sinful Collection: บทที่ 281 - บทที่ 290

9Maya.I’d never been like this before. Not with anyone. Not with myself. Obsession felt like a sickness, something I couldn’t shake, something that turned my days into endless waiting, my nights into hours spent staring at the ceiling, aching and empty and full of wild, helpless want.I tried to tell myself to slow down. I tried to distract myself—read, clean, walk the block three times, do anything to outrun the thought that maybe he was done with me. That maybe, after all this, the thrill would fade and I’d be alone again, just a girl who wanted too much. It didn’t work. Every time I blinked, I saw his hands. Every breath, I tasted his skin, his sweat, the sharp bite of teeth on my throat. I hated myself for needing him this much. I loved it, too.It was nearly two in the morning when I broke. I’d been pacing my apartment for an hour, every shadow a threat, every creak in the hallway proof that he wasn’t coming. My phone glared up at me from the couch, no new messages. My skin felt

EROTICA 1Sienna.It was after midnight, and I was still on campus, again.The corridors of the English Department building were deserted, all that fluorescent light washing everything sterile and ghostly. My heels clicked against the linoleum as I walked, the sound sharp in the empty hallway. I’d told myself all day that I wouldn’t go back to his office. I didn’t want to be that student… the one who couldn’t accept her grade, the one who cared too much. But here I was, gripping my annotated essay so tightly the edges curled.His office door was half-open. A streak of lamplight spilled into the hallway, and I could hear the low murmur of a jazz playlist from his laptop. Dr. Wolfe always played jazz when he was working late. I caught a glimpse of his profile—sharp jaw, reading glasses sliding halfway down his nose as he scrawled notes in a book.I hesitated. Slowly, I knocked once, then twice.He looked up.“Sienna.” His voice was low and rough, already tired. “It’s late. What are you

3 Sienna.I never liked faculty parties. They were always the same: polite smiles, the tinkle of ice in cheap glasses, everyone pretending to be more relaxed than they were. Usually, I just stuck to the edge of the room, looking busy with a drink, counting the minutes until I could leave. But tonight, I was painfully aware of every detail.Of him.Dr. Wolfe stood on the far side of the room, half-shaded by a cluster of staff and visiting alumni. Even with all those people between us, I could feel the way his gaze moved over me, searching for the smallest shift or the smallest slip. It made my skin tingle. I was in a black dress that hugged my hips, lips painted a deep red, hair tamed into careful waves that felt nothing like me.All night, I felt his eyes. When I laughed at something my advisor said. When I refilled my glass and tried not to spill. When I stood too close to a window, staring out at the university lawns, pretending not to notice him across the room.Every time I glance

5Sienna.His apartment was nothing like I expected.I’d imagined dark wood, old books stacked to the ceiling, the scent of coffee and leather. But it was soft and quiet, a little messy. Sunlight spilled through gauzy curtains, painting stripes across the faded rug and the stacks of papers on his table. There was a mug with a lipstick stain by the sink, probably left behind by someone before me, or maybe it was my own from the last time I’d dared to imagine being here.He closed the door behind us, and the city’s noise faded. It was just the two of us, the hush broken only by the faint hum of his fridge and the echo of my own heartbeat. I stood in the middle of the living room, feeling out of place, arms wrapped around myself.Adrian watched me from the doorway, jacket still on, keys dangling from his fingers. There was something different in his face tonight—a carefulness, a searching, as if he could see all the pieces of me I tried to hide.“Do you want something to drink?” he asked,

7Sienna.I could barely believe he’d asked me.The conference was a big deal—an academic event out of state, one Adrian could’ve attended with any number of students or colleagues. The invitation was simple: an email, formal on the surface, but beneath the lines, every word pulsed with double meaning.“You’ve been selected to assist with the department’s research presentation. If you’re able to join us for the annual symposium, accommodations will be provided.”He’d included the address of the hotel, the conference schedule, the name of the presentation he was giving. But all I saw was the thrill beneath it—us, together, somewhere no one knew our faces. A place to be anonymous and reckless. A place where I could pretend, just for a weekend, that I wasn’t his student and he wasn’t my professor.When I arrived, the hotel lobby was crowded with guests and academics in stiff blazers, suitcases trailing behind them. I checked in, feigning calm, though my heart pounded so loud I was sure th