All Chapters of My Off-limits Professor... But He's Mine (MM Romance): Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

RYDER'S POV The bass from the speakers vibrates through the floorboards of the off-campus house, a rhythmic thumping that matches the pulse of the crowded room. The air is thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and the cloying sweetness of spilled mixed drinks. It’s a victory riot, the kind of chaotic celebration that only follows a championship win, and the hockey team is at the center of the storm. Maya adjusts the strap of her top, pulling the red fabric tighter against her chest. The dress is barely more than a scrap of silk, cut high on her thighs and low at the neckline, designed specifically to leave nothing to the imagination. She runs a hand through her hair, checking her reflection in the darkened window of the hallway. She looks like sin on heels, exactly the way she planned. She isn’t here for the beer or the music; she is here to hunt. She spots her target across the room, laughing with a group of freshmen, but she ignores him. She is waiting for the captain.

RYDER'S POV The silence in Ryder’s apartment presses against his eardrums, heavy and suffocating. He paces the length of the living room, the worn soles of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor. His phone buzzes incessantly on the coffee table, lighting up the dark room with intermittent flashes, but he ignores the vibration. His mind is stuck on a loop, replaying the cold shoulder Professor Adrian gave him the whole week. The way Adrian’s eyes slid past him, refusing to make contact, dismissing Ryder like a stranger. It gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can’t scratch. When his stomach growls, loud enough to echo in the empty room, he finally glances at his phone. A string of messages from his friends fills the screen: Club’s lit, bro. Get your ass here. So much pussy. Ryder sighs, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He types out a quick refusal—Not tonight—and tosses the phone onto the couch. The fridge is barren, save for a jar of mustard and a wilted head of lettuc

RYDER'S POV The front door crashes shut against its frame, the heavy thud echoing through the empty hallway like a gunshot. Ryder stands in the entryway for a moment, his chest heaving, the plastic grocery bags biting into his fingers. He doesn’t know why his heart is hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, or why the air in the house feels suddenly too thick to breathe. He storms into the kitchen, the soles of his sneakers squeaking aggressively against the linoleum, and slams the bags onto the counter. A carton of eggs tips over, rolling dangerously close to the edge, but he ignores it. He begins to unpack with violent, jerky motions. Cans are shoved into the pantry, the refrigerator door is yanked open hard enough to rock the whole unit. He stares at a head of lettuce in his hand, crumpling the plastic wrapper until it tears. It’s not like he’s the professor’s boyfriend. The thought hits him with the force of a check to the boards. He has no claim on Adrian. This ang

RYDER'S POV Ryder moves through the living room like a man possessed, his hands fluttering over the marble surfaces of the side tables. He grabs a coaster, wipes an invisible speck of dust with the hem of his shirt, and sets it back down at a precise ninety-degree angle. The silence of the mansion presses against his ears, heavy and expectant. Every piece of furniture is too still, the air too stagnant. He needs everything to be perfect. He needs the space to look like a place where a man like Professor Adrian belongs, not just a rich kid’s empty playground. His mind snaps back to hours ago, to the crushing weight of his phone in his palm. He remembers the way his thumb had hovered over the screen, sweating and trembling. Ryder is used to girls sliding into his DMs, used to the easy rhythm of picking someone up at a bar where the only negotiation is which car to take. But this is different. This is Adrian. The memory of the cursor blinking in the empty text field makes his throat

ADRIAN'S POV Adrian stands at the edge of the mattress, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. The request hangs in the air between them, heavy and charged. Ryder wants him to bottom. The thought sends a jolt of panic through Adrian’s chest, tightening his throat. He has never let anyone inside him before, never surrendered that kind of control. His body has always been a weapon. But looking at Ryder now, seeing the raw hunger in his eyes, Adrian’s resolve wavers. It’s just sex, he tells himself. A single transaction of flesh. No one has to know it’s his first time. "No problem," Adrian says, his voice steady despite the riot in his head. He keeps his face mask-like, hiding the inexperience that feels like a brand on his skin. Ryder doesn’t wait for a second invitation. He surges forward, his hands slamming into Adrian’s chest with enough force to knock the breath out of him. Adrian stumbles backward, his knees hitting the mattress, and he falls onto the duvet. Ry