All Chapters of LORENZO, MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

His control was breaking. I could see it in the tension of his jaw, feel it in the tremor of his hand. One more push and— His phone rang. The moment shattered. **** PROFESSOR DAMON I didn't sleep. Couldn't sleep. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling of my quarters, replaying the gym. Her hand on mine. Her face pressed against my palm. The way she'd whispered 'please' like it was the only word that mattered. I'd been seconds away from kissing her. Seconds away from destroying everything. My phone had saved me. The Dean calling about a scheduling conflict for the weekend survival exercise. Thirty seconds of conversation that felt like a lifeline pulling me back from the edge. When I'd hung up, she was still standing there. Wearing boxing gloves I'd put on her hands. Looking at me like I'd just broken something precious. I'd left without another word. Because if I'd stayed, I would've done exactly what I wanted to do. Fuck the consequences. Now it was four in the morning and

The cabin was small. One room, basic furniture, a stone fireplace. I got her inside, shut the door against the storm. The sudden quiet was jarring. "Take off your wet clothes," I said, heading for the fireplace. "What?" "You're soaked. You'll get hypothermia. There's a blanket on the chair." I turned my back, started building a fire. Gave her privacy. Behind me, I heard the rustle of wet fabric. The soft thud of boots hitting the floor. The slide of soaked clothing being peeled away. My hands stilled on the kindling. Don't turn around. Don't fucking turn around. "You can turn around," she said quietly. I forced myself to stand slowly. Turn slowly. She was wrapped in the blanket, sitting in the chair near the fire I'd just lit. Hair dripping. Skin pale. But her eyes were on me. Dark and intense. I sat on the floor across from her. Put the coffee table between us like a barrier. "Thank you," she said. "For helping me." "It's my job." "Is it your job to think about me at n

LEXI He took me right there on his desk. Papers scattered to the floor. A coffee mug crashed. Neither of us cared. It was fast, desperate, frantic. When we finished, we were both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. "Fuck," he breathed. "Yeah." "This is insane." "I know." He pulled back, started fixing his clothes. "We can't keep doing this." "Okay." "I'm serious, Lexi." "So am I." But we both knew we were lying. --- It started a pattern. Tuesday night, I went to his office at eleven PM. Knocked three times. He opened the door, pulled me inside, and fucked me against the wall. Wednesday morning, I showed up for a "makeup training session" at six AM. We didn't train. Thursday afternoon, I asked to review my midterm strategy analysis. We reviewed nothing except how many times he could make me come before I had to get to my next class. It was reckless. Dangerous. Addictive. And I couldn't stop. --- The sex was incredible. Different every time. Sometimes it

LEXI We couldn't stop. We should have stopped after the cabin. After he called it a mistake. After we both said it wouldn't happen again. But three nights later, I was back in his office. And the night after that. And the night after that. It became a routine we couldn't break. Wouldn't break. Every evening at ten PM, after the training facility emptied, I'd slip through the shadows to his door. Three soft knocks. Always three. He'd open it without a word, pull me inside, and we'd fall into each other like drowning people gasping for air. We were getting reckless. Bold in ways that made my heart race even when we weren't touching. Like tonight. "Where are we going?" I asked as Damon drove past campus, heading toward the woods that bordered the academy. "Somewhere we won't get caught." His hand rested on my thigh, thumb tracing circles that made concentration impossible. I'd come to his office twenty minutes ago wearing leggings and a loose sweatshirt, expecting our usual rou

We held perfectly still. Barely breathing. Someone walked past the truck. I caught a glimpse through the window—a guy, probably a student, wearing running gear and headphones. A night jogger. He passed without noticing us, his footsteps fading into the distance. We waited another full minute before either of us moved. "Is he gone?" I whispered. Damon peered out the window. "Yeah. He's gone." We should have taken that as a sign. Should have gotten dressed, driven back to campus, called it a night. Instead, Damon turned back to me, eyes dark with renewed hunger. "He almost caught us," I said. "I know." "We could've been—" "I know." He kissed me, hard and desperate, and all rational thought fled. My body was already responding, already wanting him again despite the fact that we'd just finished. "We're insane," I gasped against his mouth. "Completely." But neither of us stopped. This time was different. Frantic. Fueled by adrenaline and the knowledge that we'd almost been