5

Elizabeth's pov

I couldn't forget that night either, how he felt....how he made me feel. But I couldn't tell him that.

"Professor Gray, I am sorry but we have to, you're basically my step father and....I can't do this with you."

"Elizabeth...."

I didn't let him finish, I was already turning away, he didn't seem like he would transfer me....so I would do it myself.

____

Bullshit.

The departmental head was even more frustrating, according to them, student reassignment to professor Gordon, the other professor was full, and so....I was stuck with Sebastian.

And looking at my program slip, I had his class in few minutes.

"Attendance streak," I murmured, I couldn't miss his class even if I wanted to.

I found myself sitting in the back of his class, my notebook in front of me, his eyes locked with mine for a brief moment, a sinful smirk stretching on his lips.

But he turned to the white board and taught like I wasn't even there. And yet subconsciously I found myself leaning in.

A cough snapped me out of it,

Ethan.

His arm around Jennifer, his fingers tracing her thighs, his eyes smiling mockingly at me. In the past year I had ignored his existence, the rumours had died down but some people just couldn't help using it to get to me.

I looked away quickly, heart thudding, not because of Ethan, but because of how easy it had been to forget where I was.

For a moment, I had been leaning forward, my lips parted, legs crossed a little too tightly. All because of the way Sebastian...Professor Gray, how he spoke when he lectured. Controlled and firm. His voice like a slow pour of whiskey over ice. Dangerous and addictive.

And I hated that about myself. Hated how, despite everything, my body still remembered him.

Ethan chuckled lowly beside Jennifer, loud enough for me to hear. I didn’t look his way, but I could feel it. The pointed stares. The smug little grins. Jennifer’s high-pitched whisper followed:

“She’s still obsessed with you Ethan. It’s kinda sad.”

I clenched my pen so tightly the plastic creaked. But I kept my eyes on the board, where Sebastian was scribbling a quote.

"Hey, lil b*tch..." Ethan whispered.

Professor Gray turned slowly and faced the class. “Thoughts?”

Hands shot up, discussions broke out. But his eyes drifted back to me.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t trust my voice to be steady, not when the memory of his breath on my neck still haunted me.

Class ended twenty minutes later. The room emptied slowly, students laughing and stretching, the usual post-lecture buzz. I packed my things carefully, trying not to rush, trying not to look like I was avoiding him, even though I absolutely was.

As I slung my bag over my shoulder, his voice stopped me.

“Miss Walters, a moment.”

I froze. So did half the class. Eyes flicked toward me.

“Everything alright?” Ethan called from the door, mock concern in his voice. “You look pale. Should I walk you to the nurse?”

Jennifer giggled.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t even blink in his direction. I walked to the front of the room and waited until the door clicked shut behind the last student.

We were alone.

Sebastian leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled neatly to his elbows.

“That little stunt he pulled,” he said, voice low and even, “will not happen again.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” I said sharply.

“I am not protecting you,” he replied. “I’m protecting my classroom.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Of course. Professionalism.”

His eyes darkened. “If I wanted to be unprofessional, Elizabeth, I would’ve taken you apart with my mouth right there in the back row.”

My breath caught.

His voice had dropped an octave.

I hated that he still had that effect on me.

“Please Mr Gray, be appropriate,” I whispered.

“Then stop looking at me like that,” he said.

"Like what.....I'm not looking at you anyway."

He smiled a bit, then reached his hands out, a strand of my hair curling around his smooth thick fingers.

"Your shampoo smells amazing."

I didn’t flinch when he touched my hair. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should’ve stepped back, scolded him, reminded him for the hundredth time that this wasn’t right.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stood there, frozen, while my skin burned where his fingers brushed the strands beside my cheek. He leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a breath.

“Your perfume smells amazing too. Your scent is intoxicating, Elizabeth.”

I blinked slowly. “You shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

“And yet,” he murmured, “you’re not stopping me.”

He was right.

God, I hated that he was right.

My heart hammered in my chest, the air between us thick and charged, and I couldn’t help but meet his eyes. His thumb brushed the edge of my jaw gently, deliberately.

“This isn’t fair,” I whispered.

“It never was,” he replied.

We stood like that for a moment, tethered by silence and memories neither of us wanted to speak out loud. His head dipped slightly, and mine tilted, just a little, an involuntary lean. His lips were a breath away from mine,

Knock knock.

A sharp rap at the door.

“Professor Gray? The 602B section is waiting outside. You’re past the bell,” someone called from the hallway.

Just like that, the tension snapped.

He pulled back instantly, the mask of professionalism sliding back over his face with seamless precision. I blinked twice, heart still racing, and stepped away.

“You should go,” he said quietly, straightening his shirt cuffs.

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded, adjusted the strap of my bag, and headed for the door.

But before I opened it, I turned slightly. “You said we shouldn’t look at each other like that.”

“I did.”

“Then stop looking at me like you’re still thinking about that night.”

This was his game, quiet seduction.

He didn't have respect for my mother, I do not know why they married but he was hers now, not mine. He could never be.