Alle Kapitel von My Off-limits Professor... But He's Mine (MM Romance): Kapitel 61 – Kapitel 70

RYDER'S POV The grey light of dawn barely filters through the blinds when Ryder’s eyes snap open. He doesn’t need an alarm; the adrenaline pumping through his veins is more potent than any caffeine. He stares at the ceiling for a heartbeat, a grin stretching across his face before he even fully processes the thought. He’s going to see Adrian today. Actually see him, on a real date. The realization hits him in the chest, a giddy, warm weight that makes him want to kick his legs like a teenager. He throws off the covers, moving with a stealth that contradicts his usual clumsy energy. The house is silent, a tomb of early morning stillness. Drake and his parents are still asleep. Ryder grabs his duffel bag from the corner, shoving his gear inside with practiced efficiency—skates, pads, jersey. He needs to get to College, needs to burn off this excess energy on the ice before tonight, or he’s going to vibrate right out of his skin. Slipping out the front door, the cool morning air

ADRIAN'S POV Adrian blinks, the surprise knocking him sideways. He hadn't expected to see the architect here, in the middle of the afternoon. He stands, smoothing the front of his shirt as if the gesture could erase the last ten minutes. He rounds the desk, extending a hand. "Drake. I wasn't expecting you." Drake grips his hand, his palm warm and calloused, shaking it firmly. "I know, I know. Surprise visit." He glances around the office, taking in the stacks of papers and the cluttered bookshelves. "I actually came to see your cousin. I assume William is hiding in this building somewhere?" "William?" Adrian raises an eyebrow. "He’s probably in the faculty lounge avoiding his own grading pile." As if on cue, a voice echoes from the hallway. "I heard my name." William appears in the doorway behind Drake, looking slightly winded, his tweed jacket askew and a satchel slipping off his shoulder. He pushes his glasses up his nose, shooting a look at Drake that is equal parts ex

************** The sleek black sedan glides to a halt at the entrance of The Star, the valet stand illuminated by a soft, golden glow that spills onto the pavement. Ryder maneuvers the vehicle into the parking spot with surgical precision, the engine settling into a low, rhythmic idle. He unbuckles his seatbelt, the strap retracting with a sharp snap, and turns his gaze toward Adrian, who is staring at the restaurant’s facade with wide eyes. Adrian leans in close, his voice dropping to a hush, laced with anxiety. "Ryder, this place looks expensive. Are you sure we can go here? We could definitely go somewhere else—" Ryder cuts him off, reaching across the center console to grab Adrian’s hand. His grip is firm, possessive, his thumb stroking the knuckles. "I’ve never complained about money to you, Adrian. You know I’m rich. Just watch." He sees Adrian’s mouth open to argue, to protest with that stubborn academic logic of his, but Ryder silences him with a peck on the lips. It’s

ADRIAN'S POV Drake’s eyes narrow as he looks Adrian up and down, taking in the expensive suit, the messy hair, and the flushed cheeks. His gaze zeroes in on Adrian’s neck, specifically the dark, purpling bruise peeking out from the collar of his shirt—the hickey Ryder had left earlier. "So," Drake drawns, a smirk playing on his lips. "Who were you out with?" Adrian instinctively pulls his collar up, turning his head slightly to hide the mark. "Just a friend." Drake raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "A friend? Dressed like that?" He points a finger at Adrian’s neck. "And is that a hickey? Friends don't usually leave marks like that, Adrian." Adrian feels the heat rise all over again, caught between the thrill of his secret and the scrutiny of his roommate. "It was... just a really good dinner," he mumbles, avoiding Drake's eyes as he makes a beeline for his room. Adrian retreats to his room, closing the door firmly behind him. He leans back against the wood for a moment, h

ADRIAN'S POV The new day breaks with a crisp, bright sunlight. Adrian parks his car in the college lot, humming a tune under his breath as he grabs his bag and heads toward the faculty building. He feels lighter than he has in months, a constant reminder of the watch on his wrist and the man who gave it to him. As he walks, he notices a group of students standing near the entrance. They look up as he approaches, their expressions twisting into something that looks suspiciously like disgust. They whisper to each other, glancing down at their phones before looking back at him with narrowed eyes. Adrian frowns slightly but brushes it off, assuming they are just typical college gossip. He keeps his head high, walking past them and entering the building. He makes his way to his office, ready to start the day, but as soon as he steps through the door, he freezes. Sitting behind his desk—or rather, standing looming over his desk—is the Head of the Faculty, Dean Thorne. Adrian has