All Chapters of BIKER PROFESSOR SEDUCTION : Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

The screen of my phone was the only thing lighting up my dark bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the photo I’d just uploaded to my art profile. It was a painting I’d finished at three in the morning when the house was finally quiet enough for me to breathe. It showed a woman with her head tilted back, her mouth pulled into a silent, jagged scream. It wasn't pretty, but it was honest."What is peace?" I had typed as the caption. "What, who, or where do you regard as your peace? Inspire me."I watched the notifications start to roll in. People loved the "tortured artist" vibe, even if they didn't know the torture was coming from the woman passed out in the room below mine.*Peace is having enough money to never look at a price tag,* the first comment said. I let out a short, dry laugh. If money bought peace, I wouldn't feel like my chest was being crushed every time I took a breath. I had been famous in the art world since I was eleven. I had made plenty of money, but

The penthouse was how I expected a billionaire's house to be. It was massive, all glass and stone walls. The floors were polished grey concrete and the walls were furnished in a matte white. After all the noise in New Orleans, the silence here felt expensive. Ronan dropped my bags by the door. The sound echoed off the high ceilings. He looked around the room, his shoulders dropping an inch. "It’s yours for as long as you need it, Nir," he said. "Make yourself at home. I’m going to check the kitchen and see what we have for dinner. Go ahead and explore."I nodded, wandering toward a side table near the hallway. It was cluttered with mail and a few stray keys, but a silver frame caught my eye. I picked it up, feeling the weight of the metal. It was a photo of Ronan and Adrian. They were younger, standing in front of a brick building. Ronan had his arm over Adrian’s shoulder, both of them laughing. Ronan's face was relaxed. He didn't have the hard, guarded expression I had seen when w

I watched from the window as Adrian’s bike wove through the New York traffic. He moved with a kind of reckless grace, becoming a smaller and smaller speck until he finally vanished around a corner. The roar of the engine lingered in the air for a second before the city sounds swallowed it whole. I moved away from the glass and sat on the edge of the bed. The silence of the penthouse felt heavier now that he was gone. My heart was still doing that jagged, uneven beat against my ribs. I pulled my phone from my pocket and scrolled back through our messages. It was a habit I couldn't break, a way to find the man I thought I knew. I stopped at a text from a few weeks ago, back when the distance between us blurred his coldness. I had been feeling bold and lonely in the middle of the night, and I had asked him to talk dirty to me. Reading his response now made a slow, familiar heat pool in my stomach. The words on the screen were raw and possessive, so different from the cold wall of a ma