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Home / Romance / His Forbidden Model: The Professor's Obsession / Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

All Chapters of His Forbidden Model: The Professor's Obsession: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

43 Chapters

1

Jasmine“I’ve told you, Jasmine, you’re too fat for that. You look like a potato in that dress,” Mia said with a small laugh, like she was making an innocent observation instead of saying something so insulting.I looked at her through the mirror.She was lying across my bed comfortably, scrolling through her phone, barely paying attention to me. Her eyes flicked up once, sweeping over the dress before she smiled to herself.“That dress is for a slim-thick girl like me. You’ll ruin the beauty of it.”Something pinched briefly in my chest before I pushed it aside. I turned slowly in front of the mirror and looked at myself again.The dress wasn’t tight. It fit well around my waist and fell softly over my hips. Jason had picked it for me two weeks ago, after noticing me staring at it in a shop window.I remembered pretending not to want it and the stupidly proud smile on his face when he still surprised me with it.I looked good.Maybe not like Mia would look in it, but I looked good.I

2

Jasmine“What the fuck!?”For a second, nobody moved.The room smelled like sweat and cheap vanilla candles—the type Mia always burned when she studied. Her laptop still sat open on the desk beside the bed, highlighted notes glowing against the screen like some sick joke.Jason was sprawled across the mattress, his bare chest heaving, one hand gripping Mia’s waist while she ground against him, her eyes still drunk with pleasure.My best friend and my boyfriend.Their faces snapped toward the doorway at the same time. Jason’s eyes widened first, panic flooding his expression.“Jasmine—”Mia scrambled backward so fast she nearly fell off the bed, clutching the sheet against her chest. Her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes. There was a bruise forming on her neck.I couldn’t stop looking at it.Couldn’t stop looking at either of them.Three years with Jason.Twelve years with Mia.It felt as if someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it stopped beating.Suddenly,

3

JasmineThe bass from the speakers thudded against my ribs hard enough to feel like another heartbeat.Or maybe that was just the alcohol.I sat hunched over the bar, a half-empty shot glass in my hand, my fifth shot of the night. At that moment, the bar felt like a safe space.Even though it smelled like whiskey, sweaty bodies, and a mix of different perfumes, it still felt better than going home.Home meant silence.It meant my bed.It meant crying until morning with Jason’s groans trapped in my head and the image of Mia’s hands all over him every time I closed my eyes.I lifted two fingers toward the bartender.“Another.”The glass in front of me disappeared, and another one replaced it almost immediately. I stared at the liquid for a second before lifting it to my lips. The drink went down my throat in one gulp, sharp enough to make my eyes water.At least this pain made sense.Because none of the rest of it did.Three years.Three years of believing I’d found the person I was goi

4

JasmineThe pounding in my head woke me before my alarm did.For several seconds, I lay perfectly still, my eyes closed against the sunlight filtering through the curtains. The brightness felt cruel, pressing insistently against my eyelids while a dull ache pulsed behind them.Every part of me felt heavy, as if someone had replaced my bones with lead during the night.A low groan escaped me.Something wasn’t right.The mattress beneath me felt unfamiliar. The air smelled wrong. Even the silence felt different.My eyes opened slowly. The unfamiliar room came into focus piece by piece. Dark walls, a black dresser, and a chair in the corner with my dress thrown carelessly over it.My brow furrowed in confusion before understanding slammed into my chest all at once.This wasn’t my room.I pushed myself upright too quickly and immediately regretted it.“Fuck.” I winced.The room tilted violently, sending a fresh wave of nausea through me. A low groan escaped me as I pressed my fingers agai

5

JasmineSomething about Professor Jackson had been bothering me for the entire lecture.It wasn’t just that he was attractive. That much was obvious.It was the strange sense of familiarity that kept tugging at me whenever he spoke.Every time his voice rolled through the lecture hall, something in the back of my mind stirred, as if I were reaching for a memory that refused to come into focus.It was ridiculous.I had never met this man before—I was sure of it.A face like his wasn’t forgettable. Still, whenever his gaze swept across the room, my pulse would trip over itself before settling again.By the time class ended, I had convinced myself it was nothing more than a coincidence.Then he looked directly at me.“Miss Buston.”My head snapped up. The hall was already beginning to empty.“Yes, Professor?”His expression remained unreadable.“To my office, please.”My stomach dropped.Around me, students continued filing toward the exits. Ari shot me a sympathetic look that immediatel

6

JasmineI scoffed.Of course.“A proposition?” I repeated coldly. “You’re a professor. If this gets out, you could lose your job too.”His expression barely changed.“True.”He stood slowly from his chair, the movement alone shifting the air between us.“But I can get another position elsewhere,” he said calmly. “I’m a professor, Miss Buston.”He stopped a few feet away, his gaze dropping briefly to the scholarship badge attached to my bag.“But you?” he continued quietly. “You’re a scholarship student from a poor background. Lose that, and then what happens?”Every word landed precisely where it hurt most. My jaw tightened instantly, humiliation burning inside me because I knew he was right—he knew, and I hated him for it.“What do you want?” I asked. “I’m guessing you want something in return.”He nodded stiffly before closing the distance between us.“I want you to model for me, for a private art series,” he said, his gaze locked with mine. “Nude.”My entire body went rigid.“What

7

JasmineI stood across the street from a renovated warehouse building in Lower Manhattan, staring at the address on my phone for what had to be the tenth time.This was it.Professor Jackson’s studio.My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as I looked up at the building again. It was the kind of place that belonged in an architecture magazine—all exposed brick, industrial windows, and black steel framing. Quiet, expensive, and intimidating.Not at all what I’d imagined.Every instinct was telling me to turn around and leave before I made an even bigger mess of my life.For a moment, I seriously considered it.I could walk away right now. Go back to campus. Pretend this arrangement had never happened and hope Professor Jackson eventually lost interest.The thought lasted all of three seconds, then a laugh slipped from my lips as reality settled heavily in my chest.He wasn’t going to lose interest. And I couldn’t afford to take that risk.One rumor was all it would take—one ac

8

JasmineThe sound of charcoal scraping across paper was the only thing breaking the silence.The noise seemed louder than it should have been, echoing through the studio while I stood under the overhead lights, trying very hard not to think about the fact that I was standing in the middle of a stranger’s workspace wearing far less than I was comfortable with.My arms were rigid at my sides, my shoulders feeling locked in place. Every muscle in my body had been tense from the moment the session began.He hadn’t said much since positioning me beneath the lights. There were no inappropriate comments, no smug reminders, and no attempts to make me uncomfortable.The only sounds in the room were the scratch of charcoal against paper and the occasional creak of the wooden floor when he shifted his weight.It should have made things easier.Instead, it unsettled me more because nothing about this matched the version of him I’d built inside my head. It would have been easier if he’d acted like

9

JasmineI paid the taxi driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk, pulling my coat tighter around myself as the cold evening air brushed against my skin. My body felt tired in that deep, bone-heavy way that came after a long day, and all I wanted was to get inside, take a shower, and crawl into bed.As I climbed the steps to my apartment, I reached into my bag for my keys. The moment I got to the door, however, I stopped.It wasn’t locked. In fact, it was slightly ajar.My brows furrowed. “What the hell?” I muttered.A knot formed in my stomach as I pushed the door open and stepped inside cautiously.The apartment was tiny. One bedroom, barely enough furniture to make it feel lived in, and nothing remotely valuable. If someone had broken in, what exactly were they hoping to steal?The lights in the living room were on. My eyes swept across the space carefully before landing on a familiar designer bag resting on one of the couches.I froze.Then I let out a slow breath.Mia.At least it

10

DavinThe front door slammed shut somewhere behind her, but I made no move to follow.I remained where I was, standing in front of the easel with my eyes fixed on the unfinished sketch.The studio had gone quiet again. Just me, the charcoal dust clinging to my fingers, and the woman staring back at me from the paper.Or at least my attempt at her.I studied the lines for a long moment before setting the charcoal down and dragging a hand across my jaw.It wasn’t right.Not yet.The posture was there. The shape of her mouth. The stubborn lift of her chin whenever she thought someone was being challenging. But the eyes still felt wrong.And that was the problem.It was always the eyes.I leaned back in my chair and rubbed a hand across my jaw.The truth was, Jasmine had been living inside my head long before she ever stepped into this studio.The first spark had come at the bar.I remembered noticing her before she’d even spoken to me. There had been something about the way she sat alone

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