Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy Compilation
Mid-thirties, maybe, with auburn hair pulled into a bun that begged to be undone.
"Riley, focus," she said, tapping the open textbook on her desk. "This essay on forbidden desire in Gothic novels—it's supposed to explore tension, not just summarize the plot." Her eyes met mine, holding a beat too long. I felt heat creep up my neck, my thighs pressing together under the desk. Forbidden desire. Yeah, right.