All Chapters of Teach me to desire : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The Library MeetingThe library was a labyrinth of hushed expectation, a sanctuary of rules and rigid order. I walked past the main reading hall, where the air was dusty and communal, and followed the directions from Igor’s email to the Rare Texts Annex. Room 412. It was a space specifically designed for quiet research, with thick soundproofing and a lock that promised absolute privacy.This isn’t a classroom. It’s a box. And he intentionally built this box for the two of us. He sent the syllabus, he set the parameters, and he knew, he absolutely knew, that walking in here meant crossing the line we both agreed was absolute.My heart was a tight, painful knot of anxiety and reckless excitement. The adrenaline that usually pulsed before a big game was nothing compared to this. This felt existential. My father’s icy demand to dedicate my life to the Hayes merger was pressing down on my chest, and the only thing giving me breath was the promise of this dangerous, stolen hour.I knocked

Killian’s TurmoilI didn't stop running until I hit the cold, sterile air of the Hayes Mansion lobby. I bypassed the elevator, taking the grand, curving staircase two steps at a time, needing the raw physical exertion to bleed off the electrical charge that was still singing under my skin.His hand. His forearm. The jolt that felt like a lightning strike.I locked myself into my private gym, a gleaming cathedral of chrome and rubber that my father insisted upon. I didn’t turn on the lights. I just collapsed onto a leather bench, my breath coming in short, painful gasps. The silence here was different from the library’s; it was empty, echoing.That was not a mistake. That was a detonation. I came here tonight to convince myself that the whole thing, the kiss, the fear, the ridiculous research project, was a temporary lapse in judgment, a bizarre reaction to the pressure of my engagement. But when our hands collided, it wasn’t wrong. It was terrifyingly, fundamentally right.I pressed t

The DecisionThe air in my room was suffocating. It was 1:17 AM, and the Hayes Mansion was wrapped in the deep, expensive silence of the elite. I was lying in my bed, fully dressed in the clothes I’d worn to the university, unable to close my eyes. Every time I did, I saw the stark darkness of that supply closet, felt the violent, desperate press of Igor Thorne's mouth on mine, and heard his ragged, final verdict.He meant it. He meant every single threat. “The assignment ends. The mentorship ends.” He risked everything just to warn me off, and I stood there, reeling, knowing I'd pushed him past his breaking point. Why did I do that? Because I had to know if the ice was real, or if the fire was stronger. I found out. The fire is real, but the fear of the consequences is stronger.My phone lay facedown on the nightstand. I hadn't touched it since I returned home, terrified that a text might arrive from Leo asking why I’d vanished or, worse, a formal email from the Dean’s office about a

The Morning AfterI woke slowly, not to the blare of a football alarm or the synthetic scent of the Hayes Mansion, but to warmth, silence, and the heavy, solid weight of an arm draped across my chest.My eyes fluttered open. I was tucked into a plush king-sized bed, the expensive white sheets twisted around my waist. The light in the room was a cool, metallic silver, courtesy of the towering skyscrapers outside the panoramic windows. The clock on the nightstand read 5:45 AM.I didn't panic. I didn't feel the sudden rush of guilt or the sickness of regret I had expected. Instead, there was a profound, almost dizzying sense of peace. It was the calm that settles after a catastrophic storm, leaving behind a landscape utterly changed but strangely, perfectly still.I turned my head gently and found Igor Thorne asleep next to me.He was sprawled on his back, his dark hair a mess, the silver streak near his temple catching the faint city light. His face, stripped of its corporate armor and

Marcus’s ObservationThe aftershocks of the confrontation with Serena were still buzzing in my nerves when I arrived at the University that afternoon. Her suspicion was a physical thing, a parasite I had to suppress every time I saw her. It made my skin crawl.My only sanctuary, paradoxically, was the place where all the danger originated: the campus. I had a quick one-on-one meeting with my general Economics professor, and then I needed to rush to the training facility. My father had already called twice, demanding to know why I wasn't doing drills. The lie of "rigorous academic commitments" was wearing thin.I was crossing the quad, moving fast, my shoulder perpetually hunched as if expecting a blow, when I saw him.Marcus.He was leaning against the brick wall of the North Hall, his helmet tucked under his arm, surrounded by a small cluster of admiring freshmen girls. Marcus was my direct competition for the starting quarterback position, and he hated me with a relentless, petty pa