Paper Hearts

**Title: *Paper Hearts***

**Chapter One: The First Look**

The rain had come out of nowhere.

Eva stood under the arched entrance of the humanities building, hugging her books close to her chest. A soft drizzle had turned into a full downpour in minutes. Her long dark hair--usually curled and perfect--was frizzing around her face. She didn't move. She liked the rain. It made the world feel still, and today, she needed the quiet.

Inside, a dozen students hustled to their classes, laughing, chatting, sharing coffee. She watched them like a ghost looking in on the living. She had grown good at pretending. Smiling when needed. Nodding. Laughing on cue. But inside, she was a quiet mess. Twenty-two and utterly, profoundly alone.

Her parents, international business consultants, were always gone. She was raised on silence and empty rooms, on maids and distant phone calls from exotic cities. Only child. Pretty. Smart. Quiet. The girl no one really noticed until she walked by--and then they *noticed*. But Eva never let anyone close. Never had to. Until *he* arrived.

The sound of footsteps broke her stillness.

She turned.

And saw him.

He wasn't soaked like she was--he stood under a large black umbrella, wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal coat and a scarf knotted neatly around his throat. Sharp cheekbones, a jaw dusted with stubble, and eyes that seemed to see too much. Thirty-two, maybe. Sophisticated. Controlled. So unlike the boys in her classes who tried too hard to be men.

Their eyes met.

And something shifted.

He stopped walking. Just for a moment. Long enough for the air between them to thicken. Long enough for Eva to feel her pulse skip.

He blinked, cleared his throat, and offered a polite nod. "You must be freezing."

She said nothing.

Because her throat had closed, and her stomach had dropped, and for the first time in years, she felt *something*.

"Come inside," he said, stepping past her and holding the door open. His voice was warm but firm. Not flirty. Not interested. Just kind. Professional.

But Eva... Eva was already spiraling.

She walked in. Close enough to smell his cologne--subtle, expensive. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and he didn't move away fast enough.

The door closed behind them.

She turned. "Are you a visiting professor?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.

He looked down at her with a faint smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "Actually... I start teaching here today. Professor Langston. English literature."

Her stomach clenched.

She was majoring in English literature.

"I'm Eva," she said. "Final year."

"Nice to meet you," he said, and there was a beat of silence before he added, "I'm married."

Eva raised a brow, lips curling faintly. "That wasn't part of the introduction."

"No," he said slowly, "but sometimes it's better to clarify things early."

She stared at him. Watched the way his throat moved as he swallowed. How tightly he held the strap of his briefcase.

She saw it then. The hesitation.

The way he noticed her.

And how badly he didn't want to.

---

**Chapter Two: The Lecture**

It was the first Friday lecture of the semester, and the air in the auditorium buzzed with idle chatter, coffee-fueled anticipation, and the fluttering of fresh notebooks opening for the first time. Eva sat in the third row--not too eager, not too indifferent--with her legs crossed neatly, a caramel macchiato cooling beside her spiral-bound journal.

To her left was **Nina**, tall and sharp-tongued, a self-described "functional nihilist" who wore leather jackets over vintage poetry T-shirts and flirted with everyone but cared about no one. Her eyeliner could cut glass, and her sarcasm was legendary.

To her right was **Callie**, sweet and sunshiny, a hopeless romantic with an oversized heart and a constantly rotating collection of pastel sweaters. Callie was the kind of girl who doodled flowers in the margins of her notes and cried during Shakespeare soliloquies.

And Eva? Eva sat perfectly in between them. A quiet axis between chaos and calm. With her dark lashes, flawless skin, and unreadable expression, she was the girl who seemed composed--until you really looked at her eyes.

"He's supposed to be new," Callie whispered, leaning in. "Transferred from Oxford or something. Married. I looked him up."

Nina snorted. "Of course you did. Tell me, does he look like a professor or a fantasy?"

Callie just smiled.

Then the side door opened.

And *he* walked in.

Professor Langston. Daniel.

Eva sat straighter without meaning to.

He wore black slacks and a fitted slate-blue button-down, sleeves rolled just enough to show strong forearms and a flash of watch at his wrist. His hair was artfully tousled. He moved like he didn't care who was watching, but everyone *was*.

He set his leather satchel down at the desk and looked up. His gaze swept the auditorium--and paused.

Right on her.

Just a fraction of a second too long.

Eva felt it. The pause. The awareness. The electricity in her spine.

"Good morning," he said, voice rich and smooth as velvet, tinged with a crisp British accent. "I'm Professor Langston. This semester we'll be exploring the language of desire--Shakespeare to Wilde, Austen to D. H. Lawrence. Intimacy. Power. Morality. You'll be surprised how thin the line is between restraint and chaos."

Eva swallowed.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, her fingers curling around her pen. She wasn't blushing. She *never* blushed. But her skin felt hot.

He handed out paper syllabi himself, which no professor had ever bothered to do.

He started at the top row.

Callie elbowed her. "He's *so* handsome. Like, unfairly."

Nina smirked. "Looks like he's the one who's going to need restraint."

They laughed. Eva didn't.

Because he was moving toward them now, stepping lightly down the rows, handing out sheets with a quiet "thank you" or "here you are" and a brief glance--never lingering. Never personal.

Until he reached their row.

He handed one to Callie first. "Here you are."

Then Nina. "You too."

Then--

He looked directly at Eva.

She raised her hand slowly to take the paper.

Their fingers touched.

Barely.

But it hit her like a spark to dry leaves.

Static, tension, heat. A jolt of something far too primal to explain. She sucked in a breath--and he did too. Almost imperceptibly, but she *heard* it. Saw the way his lashes fluttered once, his jaw tighten just a little.

Then his voice, lower now. "Miss..."

"Eva," she said, her throat dry.

His eyes flicked down to her lips. "Right. Eva."

He moved on--but too slowly. Like his body didn't want to leave even if his mind had already told it to walk away.

Callie leaned in instantly. "*Holy shit.* Did you see that?"

"I felt that," Nina murmured. "That was not just paper."

Eva stared down at her syllabus like it might combust.

She'd never believed in that instant spark people talked about.

Until now.

Because that brief graze of skin had burned.

And judging by the tension in his shoulders and the fact that he didn't look at her again for the rest of the lecture, she *knew* he'd felt it too.

He was fighting it.

And she?

She was already planning her next move.

---

**Chapter Three: The Line (Daniel's Perspective)**

It had taken him less than ten minutes to spot her.

She sat in the third row, framed by a curly-haired blonde in a bubblegum sweater and a smirking brunette who looked like she collected trouble like trophies. But it was her--the girl in the middle--who made the room tilt.

She didn't fidget. Didn't chatter. Just sat perfectly still, legs crossed, gaze locked. As if she wasn't listening to him, but *reading* him.

Daniel handed out the syllabi himself. A pointless, sentimental tradition. He liked the smallness of it. The grounding detail of ink on paper, fingers brushing, students murmuring thanks. He needed the human part of the job to anchor him.

He didn't expect *her* fingers to feel like fire.

He didn't expect to meet her eyes and forget what he was about to say.

"Eva," she said. Just that. Her name, soft and simple.

And God help him, he wanted to hear her whisper it in the dark.

He stepped back, moved on, ignoring the pull in his stomach. Married. Professor. Ten years older. *Every* possible line.

He had kissed his wife on the cheek that morning, just like he always did. They weren't perfect--never had been--but they were solid. Supportive. Partners. Not fireworks, but warmth. Stability. A life he had no right to jeopardize.

And yet.

When he called out near the end of class, "I'll need a volunteer to assist me organizing supplemental materials this semester--scanning, filing, some minor editing--nothing thrilling, I'm afraid," he didn't expect a reaction.

Until she raised her hand.

Immediately. No hesitation.

He looked at her.

And she was already looking at him.

"I can help, Professor."

The words came out like an invitation.

Around her, her friends turned--one smirking, one blinking in surprise--but Eva's gaze didn't flicker.

He should've said no.

Should've chosen someone else.

But all he said was: "All right, Eva. My office. Monday. Three o'clock."

---

**Later That Night -- Eva's Home**

The house was too quiet.

Eva kicked off her shoes at the door and dropped her bag on the hallway table. The echo of her steps down the marble floor made her feel like she was walking through a museum--polished, expensive, lifeless.

The grand piano in the corner hadn't been played in years. The dining room looked staged. Her parents' latest "gift"--a bottle of champagne from Tokyo--sat unopened on the counter. They hadn't been home in six weeks. Maybe seven. She'd stopped counting.

"*Mi corazón,* you're home."

A soft voice drifted from the kitchen.

Eva smiled.

There, in a faded apron and sensible slippers, stood **María**, her family's housekeeper since Eva was a child. María had seen her through every fever, heartbreak, and birthday her parents forgot. She was no maid. She was the only person who ever noticed when Eva didn't eat, didn't smile, didn't speak.

"You didn't finish your lunch," María said, pressing a warm hand to her cheek. "You get too skinny when you're sad."

"I'm not sad," Eva said, leaning into the touch.

"You get quiet when you are. I know your silences."

María handed her a plate--sopa de fideo and fresh bread. Eva took it without protest and sat at the kitchen island.

"I met someone today," she murmured between bites.

María looked up from the stove. "A boy?"

Eva's lips curled faintly. "A man. My professor."

María's eyes narrowed, hands pausing mid-stir. "That sounds dangerous."

"He's... different. Controlled. Careful. But I saw it. The way he looked at me. Like he already knew he shouldn't."

"And what did *you* do?"

"I raised my hand."

María turned back to the pot with a sigh and muttered something in Spanish that Eva pretended not to catch.

After dinner, Eva stood at her window, lights off, watching the world below. She wrapped her arms around herself.

She didn't *need* anything.

She had survived on her own this long.

But she *wanted* something. Or rather--someone.

Someone who saw her, not the version she performed for the world.

And today, for one breathtaking moment, *he* had.

---

**Chapter Four: Office Hours**

Monday came too slowly.

Daniel told himself it was just another meeting. Just a student offering her time. Nothing unusual, nothing inappropriate.

But he'd spent the whole weekend thinking about the way her lips had shaped his name. The way she hadn't blinked when he tried to put distance between them.

And now--3:02 p. m.--he heard a soft knock.

He swallowed hard and stood.

"Come in," he called, his voice a little too steady.

The door creaked open, and there she was.

Eva.

Hair tucked loosely behind her ears, a pale blue blouse tucked into dark jeans, simple gold hoops in her ears. No makeup, or almost none. She didn't need it. She was the kind of beautiful that made you forget what you were about to say.

"Hi," she said softly. "Sorry, am I late?"

"No." He stepped aside. "Right on time. Come in."

She walked past him, her perfume barely there--citrus and something floral. She didn't glance around the room like most students. She went straight to the desk, folded her arms in front of her.

"So," she said. "What do you need help with?"

God help him.

Everything.

"I thought we'd start simple," he said, moving to the cabinet. "I've got some older scanned articles I'd like sorted by theme and date. Some handwritten notes from Oxford I've never properly archived. I'll give you full access to the folder on the shared drive."

She took the USB drive he handed her. Their fingers didn't touch this time, but the moment still stretched between them.

"Sounds good," she said, sitting at the small table in the corner. "Organizing is... kind of my thing."

"I'll be at my desk," he said. "Let me know if anything's unclear."

For the first fifteen minutes, the only sounds were keystrokes and the occasional shuffle of papers. Daniel tried to focus. Tried to pretend this was no different than any other faculty-student interaction.

It wasn't.

Not even close.

He kept glancing at her without meaning to. The way she bit her lip while reading. The way she crossed and uncrossed her legs, unaware--or maybe *very* aware--of the effect it had on him.

"Professor Langston?"

Her voice made him look up instantly. "Yes?"

She tilted her head. "Why did you pick me?"

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"For the assistant spot. You could've picked anyone."

He hesitated.

"You volunteered first."

Her eyes narrowed, a smile playing at her lips. "That's all?"

Daniel stood slowly, pushing away from his desk, needing distance but somehow moving *closer*.

"You're sharp," he said. "Focused. Mature. I assumed you could handle discretion."

"Discretion," she repeated. "Interesting word."

"It's an important one."

She leaned back in her chair, studying him. "You're very careful with your words."

"I have to be."

"Because of me?"

Daniel's jaw tensed. He looked away. "Because of *everything*."

For a moment, silence wrapped around them like smoke.

Then she said, "You looked at me in class like you already knew me."

"I didn't."

"But you felt something."

His eyes locked on hers. She was playing with fire now, and she *knew* it.

"I don't entertain that kind of conversation with students," he said softly.

"That's not a no."

He stared at her. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"You should finish the file," he said. "It's getting late."

But she didn't move. She just smiled--a quiet, knowing smile.

"I'll see you next Monday, Professor Langston."

And just like that, she was gone.

The door clicked shut behind her.

And Daniel exhaled--slow, shaking, as though he'd been holding his breath the entire time.

He was in so much trouble.

---

**Chapter Five: The Look**

The sun had finally come out, and the small campus café was buzzing with life. Students lounged under faded umbrellas, laughing over iced lattes, textbooks open more for decoration than actual use.

Eva sat between Callie and Nina at their usual outdoor table, idly stirring her drink. She hadn't said much all morning.

"I swear," Callie was saying, "if Professor Langston reads one more passage from *Lady Chatterley's Lover* in that voice, I'm going to faint."

Nina smirked over her espresso. "I think he *knows* exactly what he's doing. The man could probably make a tax return sound like foreplay."

Eva smiled faintly, but didn't look up from her coffee.

Callie narrowed her eyes. "Okay. Spill. You've been weird for a week."

"I'm always weird," Eva said lightly.

"No," Nina said. "You're always mysterious. This is *different*. You've been... distracted."

Callie nodded. "You flinched when he walked by our row yesterday. *You*. The queen of composure."

"Maybe she's got a crush," Nina said, eyebrows lifting with mock innocence.

"I don't--"

Eva stopped mid-sentence as the café door opened.

Daniel Langston walked in, dressed in black slacks and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled. He carried a leather-bound notebook and ordered something from the counter, not yet seeing them.

Callie and Nina both looked at Eva.

"Tell me you didn't," Nina whispered.

"I didn't do *anything*," Eva hissed.

Her voice was defensive, but her posture betrayed her. A rigidness. A crack in her calm.

Then Callie made a joke about Nina's last failed Tinder date. Something ridiculous involving a magician, cheap wine, and a hamster. It made Eva laugh--unexpected and bright.

Daniel turned.

The sound of her laugh cut through the noise, and his head snapped up instantly.

Their eyes met across the café.

And neither of them looked away.

A stillness settled over the space between them. Her lips parted just slightly. His fingers froze on the coffee cup he'd just picked up.

Nina and Callie looked from him to her and back again.

"Oh my *God*," Nina muttered under her breath.

Callie leaned in, whispering sharply, "Eva."

But Eva didn't hear them.

Until her phone buzzed in her hand.

She looked down.

**Mom:** *Flight cancelled. Your father and I won't be back this week. Maybe next. I'll call soon.*

**Dad:** *So sorry, sweetheart. Things came up. Love you.*

Eva stared at the screen. The words blurred. Her throat clenched.

She blinked hard and shoved the phone into her bag, standing up too fast.

"I--I need to go," she said quickly.

"Eva?" Callie reached out. "What happened?"

"I'm fine," she said, but her voice cracked. She turned and walked fast, head down, heart pounding. Not here. Not in front of them.

Daniel watched her go. Every muscle in his body tense.

He shouldn't.

He *couldn't*.

But when she turned the corner out of sight, he was already moving.

He left his coffee behind.

And followed her.

---

**Chapter Six: Just a Bit Longer**

He found her behind the science hall.

She was standing under the awning near the emergency exit, just out of the sunlight, arms wrapped around herself as if the world had turned too loud. Her shoulders were trembling, and she was trying so damn hard to stay composed.

Daniel didn't think.

He just moved.

"Eva," he said softly.

She turned, startled, eyes wide and already glistening.

"Professor--" she started, then quickly looked away, swiping under her eyes with trembling fingers. "I'm okay. I'm fine."

"You're not," he said, voice quiet but firm. "Don't say that."

"I don't want you to see me like this," she whispered, trying to laugh, but it came out shaky and broken. "It's pathetic."

He stepped forward and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, guiding her until her back touched the cool brick wall. Not forceful--just enough to steady her.

"Eva," he murmured again.

Her eyes locked onto his, wide and glassy, and then--

She broke.

With a soft, choked sob, she gripped the front of his shirt and buried her face into his chest. He caught her instantly, arms folding around her like instinct. Her body trembled against his as the tears came, silent at first, then deeper, wrenching.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into him. "I'm sorry--I didn't mean to do this."

"Don't apologize," he said, his voice raw now. "Don't."

He held her close, one hand splayed protectively on her back, the other cradling the back of her head. Her cheek was pressed to his chest, where his heart was pounding hard and fast.

"They promised they'd be home," she whispered. "I waited all weekend. I made dinner last night and just... left it on the counter. I knew they wouldn't come. I *knew.* But I still waited. Like some stupid little girl."

His jaw clenched. "You're not stupid."

"I hate how empty the house feels. I hate how quiet it is. Sometimes I sit in the hallway just to hear the echo of my own breathing. Isn't that *insane*?"

"No," he said. "It's not."

She pulled back just enough to look up at him--eyes red, cheeks wet, lips parted--and suddenly the space between them was *gone*. His arms still around her, his shirt wrinkled from her grip, their bodies almost flush.

She felt the shift before he did.

His chest tightened, muscles tensed, eyes flicking to her mouth--then away, as if ashamed.

"I need to pull away," he murmured, breathless.

"I know," she whispered.

But her arms didn't loosen. She leaned her forehead against his chest again, barely touching.

"Just a bit longer," she breathed. "Please."

He froze.

And then his hands tightened around her just slightly.

Just a bit longer.

Because the world was too cruel, and she was too alone.

And because--for reasons he couldn't explain--he needed this too.

---

**Chapter Seven: Pretending Doesn't Work**

He didn't mention it the next day.

No reference to the hug. No acknowledgement of her crying into his chest. No trace of how tightly he'd held her or the way she'd pleaded--*just a bit longer*.

When Eva arrived at his office for her assistant work, he didn't look up from his laptop.

"Afternoon," he said, his voice crisp. Professional. "The new folder's already uploaded. Just follow the same sorting format as last time."

She nodded slowly, walking to the small table in the corner. Her fingers grazed the edge of the chair, but she didn't sit.

"I never thanked you," she said quietly.

"For what?" he asked, still not looking up.

"For coming after me. For holding me."

He stopped typing.

Silence stretched between them.

Then he leaned back in his chair, finally meeting her eyes. His jaw was tight. His expression unreadable.

"You were upset. It was the decent thing to do."

"That wasn't just *decent*," she said, stepping closer. "That was *real.*"

He stood abruptly, a bit too fast, the chair squeaking slightly behind him.

"Eva," he said, tone hardening, "you need to understand something. What happened was--human. Compassionate. But not... not something that can happen again."

She tilted her head slightly. "You held me like you didn't want to let go."

He swallowed.

She took another step toward him, slow and deliberate. "I've never felt that safe in my life."

"Eva--"

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she said gently. "But I need you to know... I'm not a child. And I'm not confused. I know exactly what I'm doing."

His hands curled into fists at his sides. "This isn't a game."

"It's not," she agreed. "It's a choice."

She was standing close now--too close--and he could smell her shampoo, could see the faint scar at her hairline, the freckle beneath her left eye. Her blouse was a soft cream, unbuttoned just enough to reveal the delicate hollow of her throat.

"I don't expect anything from you," she said, voice softer. "I just want to be near you. However you'll let me."

He exhaled sharply, stepping back, like distance could restore control.

"I'm married."

She nodded. "I know."

"I'm your professor."

"I know that too."

"You're making this *impossible,*" he said, voice strained.

"I haven't touched you," she whispered. "But if you asked me to, I would."

He turned away, running a hand through his hair.

"Jesus, Eva..."

But she just smiled softly, turning to sit at the desk.

"I'll start on the folder," she said calmly, like nothing had happened.

And he stood there for a long moment, staring at the back of her head, every part of him aching to forget who he was supposed to be.

---

**Chapter Eight: The Game She's Playing**

Eva had always known how to pretend.

Pretend to be the perfect student. Pretend to be happy. Pretend to be loved.

But now? For the first time in her life, she wasn't pretending.

She had a *mission*.

And it made her feel *alive*.

---

She started small.

A different kind of blouse--still technically appropriate, but silkier. Softer. She leaned forward more when she sat, exposing just enough collarbone to make his gaze flick down before snapping back up.

She wore perfume now--something subtle and addictive. Something that made him pause when she walked past him.

And when they spoke, she made sure her voice stayed low, intimate, like she was telling him secrets even when she was just reading article titles aloud.

---

"Professor Langston," she said one afternoon, closing her laptop, "I was thinking..."

He looked up from his desk with wary eyes. "That's usually dangerous."

She smiled. "You said you wanted the old Oxford notes organized. But I could... stay late one evening? We'd get more done. Fewer distractions."

He hesitated. "That's not necessary."

"Of course not," she said, standing slowly. "But you'd have me all to yourself."

His breath caught.

She heard it.

And so did he.

"You need to stop," he said quietly.

She moved closer.

"Stop what?" she whispered. "Working hard? Volunteering time? Wanting to be near the one person who makes me feel like I *exist*?"

He stood, pushing back from his chair as if that would help. "You're a student. You're lonely. You think you want this--"

"I *do* want this," she cut in, voice low and trembling--not with weakness, but with certainty. "I want *you*. The way you looked at me in the café... the way you held me like you were afraid to let go. Don't tell me you didn't feel anything."

He stared at her, jaw tight, knuckles white where he gripped the back of the chair.

"Eva," he warned, voice cracking slightly, "I'm married."

"You keep saying that," she whispered, stepping into him now, slow and deliberate. "But you've never said you don't want me."

His silence was deafening.

She leaned in, lips just an inch from his ear.

"I would let you do anything to me," she breathed. "You could ruin me. And I'd say thank you."

His breath hitched. She saw his hands twitch--like he didn't know whether to grab her or shove her away.

But he didn't touch her.

Not yet.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he said, his voice low and tight, barely controlled.

She smiled, stepping back just enough to meet his eyes.

"I'm not afraid of getting hurt."

Then she walked out, hips swaying, heart pounding, leaving him staring after her--angry, aroused, unraveling.

---

**Chapter Nine: Firestarter**

Eva hadn't planned to tell anyone.

This wasn't the kind of secret you shared--it was the kind you *buried*. But by Friday, the pressure had built too much, and she cracked.

The three of them sat in a quiet corner of the campus lawn, iced coffees in hand, pretending to study but mostly gossiping.

Nina was the first to call it out.

"You've been glowing," she said flatly. "Which either means you're sleeping with someone or you've started doing drugs."

Callie leaned in, eyes wide. "It's not drugs, right?"

Eva exhaled and glanced around. The quad was mostly empty.

Then, in one breath: "I think I'm seducing Professor Langston."

The silence was immediate--and then explosive.

"*You think*?" Nina nearly choked on her coffee.

Callie gasped so loud two pigeons flew away.

"I *knew* it," Nina hissed. "That stare-down at the café? That wasn't academic tension."

Callie gaped. "Eva. He's *married.* And a *professor.* This isn't hot--it's *illegal in at least three states.*"

Eva smirked. "It's not illegal. Just *complicated.*"

"Oh my God," Callie whispered, eyes wide. "Tell me everything."

"I haven't *done* anything," Eva said, then grinned wickedly. "Yet."

Nina groaned and shook her head. "Girl, you are *playing with fire.*"

"Maybe," Eva said, stretching her legs out and leaning back in the grass. "But for once, I *feel* something. I feel like I'm in control."

Callie bit her lip. "Does he know how hard you're coming for him?"

Eva's smirk deepened. "Oh, he knows. He just thinks he can resist."

---

**An Hour Later -- Outside the Campus Café**

He was there again. Professor Langston. Daniel.

Stepping out of the café, coffee in one hand, notebook under his arm, brows furrowed in thought. He looked exhausted. Like a man constantly denying himself oxygen.

Eva watched from a bench across the courtyard. The moment he turned, her gaze caught his.

She didn't look away.

She let her lips curl into a slow, confident smirk.

He looked away first.

*Interesting.*

He walked toward the east wing--the older part of campus. And then, without thinking, *she followed.*

---

He pushed open the door to the men's restroom near the philosophy building--an old one with marble floors and a wide mirror, almost always empty during this hour.

She waited three long seconds.

Then slipped in after him.

He was at the sink, running water over his hands, head bowed like he was trying to pull himself together. When he saw her reflection behind him in the mirror, he went still.

"Eva," he said, voice tight. "You can't be in here."

She took a step closer, letting the door fall shut behind her with a soft *click*.

"Why not?" she whispered. "It's quiet. Private."

He turned around slowly, wiping his hands on a paper towel, breathing shallow.

"This is *completely* inappropriate."

"Do you want me to leave?"

He didn't answer.

She took another step. They were only a foot apart now. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. The storm behind his eyes.

"I thought about you," she said softly. "All week. Every night. I wanted to feel your arms again. I wanted to know how far you'd go if I didn't stop you."

His hands clenched at his sides. "Eva--"

"You can say no," she said. "I'll walk out. But if you don't--if you *don't* tell me to leave--I'm going to kiss you."

His jaw tensed. His breath faltered.

One second.

Two.

Three.

He said nothing.

So she moved.

And as her fingers brushed his chest, and her lips hovered just a breath away from his--

---

**Chapter Ten: The Pressure Point**

He didn't kiss her in the bathroom.

At the last possible second, Daniel had turned away, muttering something sharp and breathless about crossing lines and losing control. Then he'd practically fled, leaving Eva standing in the quiet hum of fluorescent lights and cracked tile, heart pounding like a drum in her chest.

But he didn't report her.

He didn't avoid her.

And the following Monday, his office door was open at exactly three o'clock.

Waiting.

She stepped inside slowly, setting her bag down and closing the door behind her with a soft click. He was standing by the window, his back to her, one hand gripping the windowsill like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world.

"Rough day, Professor?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

He didn't turn. "Eva... don't."

"Don't what?"

He exhaled slowly, still not facing her. "Don't play this game today. Please."

She crossed the room. Calm. In control.

"I'm not playing."

Now he turned--eyes tired, jaw tight, restraint radiating off him like heat.

"You think this is easy for me?" he asked. "You think I don't feel it every time you walk in the room? You're in my head *constantly.* I'm *trying* to do the right thing."

"I know," she said softly. "And that's what makes you worth chasing."

He looked like he wanted to say something--*anything*--but the words never came.

"Turn around," she said, stepping close. "You look like you've had a week's worth of stress packed into a day."

"Eva--"

"I'm not offering sex," she said. "Not yet." She smiled. "Just a massage."

He hesitated.

"Sit," she said, firmer now, pointing to his chair. "Let me take care of you for once."

Still he stood frozen.

So she pushed gently on his chest. "Sit down."

And he did.

She moved behind him, her fingers gliding to his shoulders. At first, her touch was professional--firm and practiced, working slow circles into the tightness in his neck. But then she leaned in, her breath warm against his ear.

"You're always so tense," she murmured. "Always carrying the weight of everything. Let me help."

His head fell slightly forward as her thumbs worked into the pressure points at the base of his skull. His breath hitched. And when she dragged her hands slowly down to his shoulder blades, he actually groaned--soft, involuntary, and *real*.

Eva bit her lip, heat flooding between her legs.

"I love hearing that sound," she whispered. "It means I'm doing something right."

"Eva..." His voice was hoarse, struggling.

"I can feel you relaxing. But there's something else too, isn't there?"

She moved one hand down his chest, then stopped just short of his belt--innocent, barely inappropriate, but *suggestive*.

"I bet you're hard right now."

He tensed under her, but said nothing.

"So you *do* want me," she whispered, brushing her lips against the shell of his ear. "Even if you won't say it."

His knuckles were white where they gripped the arms of the chair.

"Tell me what you want," she said softly. "I'll give you anything."

He stood suddenly, spinning the chair and forcing space between them. His breathing was ragged now, his eyes dark and wild.

"Get out, Eva."

She didn't flinch. "You don't mean that."

He looked at her like she was the last thing holding him together--and the thing about to tear him apart.

"Get out," he said again, but softer.

She stepped back slowly, lips curling.

"Next time," she whispered, walking backward to the door. "You won't stop me."

She left him alone--still hard, still shaking, still losing the battle he swore he'd never fight.

---

**Chapter Eleven: Tipping Point**

The phone buzzed on Eva's bed beside her, the screen lighting up with a contact that felt more like a formality than a relationship.

**Mom.**

She hesitated, then answered, lying back against her pillows.

"Hi, sweetheart," her mother said, voice overly bright. "I'm so sorry about last week. Everything's been *madness* over here."

"Yeah," Eva said quietly. "I figured."

"We might be home for a few days next month, though. We'll try to plan a dinner. Just us girls," her mom laughed.

Eva didn't laugh.

There was a pause. "How's school going?"

"It's fine."

"You sound tired."

"I'm always tired," Eva murmured, staring at the ceiling. "I'm used to it."

"Well, we miss you," her mother said. "You know that."

Eva bit her tongue. She didn't say *do you?* or *prove it*. She just ended the call with a soft, polite *bye* and stared at the screen long after it went dark.

---

That night, she sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her notes, her legs bare, oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder. But her mind wasn't on literature.

It was on *him*.

On the way he had groaned under her touch. On how hard he'd been. On the way he'd *snapped* when she pushed him too far.

She smirked to herself.

He was crumbling.

And she was *done* waiting.

---

**The Next Afternoon -- His Office**

She arrived precisely at three o'clock, knocking once before stepping in. This time, she didn't wear something subtle.

The black skirt hugged her hips. The soft, wine-colored blouse was semi-sheer, tucked in neatly but low-cut enough to tease. She wore heels--not too high, but high enough to force his eyes down her legs when she walked.

Daniel looked up from his desk and immediately froze.

"Eva..." His voice was already strained. "That outfit is not appropriate for--"

"I'm not in class," she interrupted smoothly, placing her hands on the back of the chair. "I thought maybe you'd like a different kind of... focus today."

She sat without being invited.

He stood, bracing himself against the desk like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for her.

"I've told you this has to stop."

"And I've told you," she said, uncrossing and recrossing her legs slowly, "I don't want it to."

She stood and stepped around the desk.

He tried to back away--tried--but his breath was shallow, his eyes glued to her mouth.

"I want you," she whispered, pressing a palm to his chest. "I want to know what you sound like when you lose control. I want to feel it when you *stop pretending.*"

She leaned in, her lips brushing his jaw.

And that's when he broke.

He grabbed her by the waist and spun her, pinning her against the bookshelf so fast her breath caught.

"You think you're in control?" he growled, voice low and dangerous.

She gasped, heart slamming in her chest, but her body *thrummed* at the sound of his voice like that.

"I--"

He pressed his thigh between her legs and leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.

"You've been dripping for me since the moment I touched you in class, haven't you?" he whispered.

Her knees nearly buckled.

"You think you're teasing *me*? You've been walking around every day with your thighs clenched, hoping I'd snap."

His hand slid down her side, stopping just before it reached the edge of her skirt. Close. Too close.

"I should throw you over this desk and make you say my name until you forget your own."

Eva whimpered.

"But you don't get that. Not yet."

He pulled back suddenly, eyes still dark, breathing hard.

She stared up at him, lips parted, chest rising fast.

"You want to play with fire, Eva?" he murmured. "Then burn."

He stepped back.

She nearly fell forward.

"Next time," he said, turning away, voice rough. "Don't wear that skirt unless you're ready to beg."

And with that--

He walked out.

Leaving her pressed to the shelf, breathless, soaked, and more determined than ever.

---

**Chapter Twelve: The Other Life**

**Daniel's Apartment -- That Evening**

The door clicked shut behind him as Daniel stepped into the sleek, curated silence of his apartment. Hardwood floors, minimalist décor, black-and-white photographs lining the hallway. Cold, modern perfection.

His wife was in the kitchen, dressed in a soft gray blouse and slim slacks, pouring wine into two glasses. *Sophie.* Thirty-one. Elegant. Sharp. She had a career in legal consulting, a schedule that rivaled his own, and a gaze that could both disarm and cut.

"You're late," she said without looking at him.

"Sorry," he murmured. "Office hours ran long."

"You missed dinner."

He nodded, removing his coat. "I didn't realize."

She brought him a glass of wine and leaned against the island. "You've been distant lately. Even for you."

Daniel ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Just work."

Her eyes studied him--cool, intelligent. "You don't lie well when you're tired."

He took a sip, avoiding her stare. "I'm not lying."

They hadn't fought. Not really. They still talked about schedules, bills, who needed to buy more almond milk. But they hadn't touched in weeks. And when they did, it felt... rehearsed. Familiar, but empty.

Later that night, she slid into bed beside him. Her hand brushed his chest. "We don't have to talk," she said softly, eyes unreadable. "But I don't want to feel like strangers."

He didn't respond with words. He kissed her.

She kissed him back.

Her body was warm, familiar, practiced. She whispered his name once. But as he moved above her, thrusting slowly, all he could *see* was dark hair, parted lips, eyes that *challenged* him. All he could *feel* was Eva's breathless whisper in his ear, her thighs parting beneath his hands.

When Sophie came with a quiet gasp, Daniel closed his eyes and held her--hating himself, hating the ache he still felt even after release.

Because it hadn't *helped.*

It had only made him want Eva more.

---

**The Next Day -- On Campus**

Eva was fuming.

He had left her breathless and flushed against the bookshelf--*again*--and then just walked away. Like *she* was the one losing control. Like *he* was still holding the upper hand.

She didn't lose. Not like that. Not anymore.

At least... not without a fight.

---

His office door was cracked open. She stepped in without knocking.

He looked up from his desk, startled. "Eva--"

"You're going on a trip," she said flatly.

His eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"

"You left your itinerary open on your laptop last week." She shrugged. "I looked."

He sighed, standing. "It's a faculty summit. Three days. Lectures. Networking. Not exactly a tropical vacation."

She smiled slowly. "Still. Sounds fun."

He crossed his arms. "Eva."

"I want to come."

His throat tightened. "That's not--"

"I'll pay my own way," she said. "Get my own room. But you won't stop me."

"You're not even part of the department hosting it--"

"I don't care."

He stared at her. "Why are you doing this?"

Her voice dropped into a soft, dangerous whisper. "Because I'm done waiting. I want you to *break*. And I want to be there when it happens."

He swallowed hard.

She stepped closer. "Tell me to stay here, and I will. But if you hesitate--if you pause even for a *second*--I'm booking my ticket."

Silence.

Tension.

And then his hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles whitened.

He didn't say no.

So she smiled.

----

**Chapter Thirteen: Shared Space**

**Campus Café -- Two Days Before the Trip**

Eva stirred her iced coffee with a wicked grin while Nina and Callie gaped at her across the table.

"You're *what now*?" Nina blinked. "Going on a faculty trip with your *professor*?"

Eva nodded slowly, savoring the moment. "Three days. Out of town. I'll be attending the lectures, too. Strictly professional, of course."

Callie leaned forward, eyes wide. "And he's just... letting you go?"

"He didn't say no," Eva said, smirking. "And that's all the permission I need."

Nina narrowed her eyes. "You are *playing chess* while the rest of us are still learning to flirt."

"He'll crack," Eva said, confidence radiating off her in waves. "He's already close."

"You're going to seduce a married professor at a work summit," Callie said, stunned. "This is the plot of at least three forbidden romance novels."

"I know," Eva said. "And I'm the one writing it."

---

**Later -- At the Destination Hotel**

Daniel stood at the front desk with his arms crossed, jaw clenched, and a distinct crease forming between his brows.

"I reserved *two* rooms," he said to the receptionist, trying--and failing--to keep his tone calm.

"Yes, sir, I see that. But due to a software error and the multiple events in the city, all available accommodations are booked. We only have the one suite now. King bed, city view, very comfortable."

Eva, standing just behind him, tried very hard not to look *too* pleased.

"Oh no," she said sweetly. "What a *disaster.*"

Daniel looked at her. "Don't."

"Don't what?" she asked, eyes wide. "Smile because this is exactly what I would've done if the universe hadn't done it for me?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just... let's go to the room."

---

**Room 714 -- 4:13 p. m.**

The door swung open, and they stepped into the suite.

It was spacious, elegant, and--most notably--centered by one massive **king-size** bed.

"Lovely," Eva said brightly, walking in and tossing her bag onto the neatly made duvet. "Oh look, no couch."

Daniel remained at the threshold, staring at the bed like it was some kind of ancient trap. "This is wildly inappropriate."

"There's a chair," Eva offered innocently, pointing to the small armchair by the window. "Though I doubt your spine will survive four nights in that."

He glared at her. "You're enjoying this far too much."

"I'm enjoying the irony," she corrected. "You've spent so long avoiding me, and now? We're roommates."

He said nothing. Just rolled his suitcase into the corner and exhaled like a man walking into a storm.

---

**That Night -- 11:42 p. m.**

The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of a city skyline outside.

Eva had changed into a silky sleep shirt--modest in theory, but the way it clung to her curves made Daniel's brain feel like it was melting. She brushed her teeth, pulled her hair up, and climbed into the bed with zero hesitation.

Daniel emerged from the bathroom in a black T-shirt and flannel pants, avoiding her eyes like they might incinerate him on contact.

He got into bed--*his* side, the edge, one foot practically dangling off the side in protest.

Neither of them spoke.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then thirty.

Eventually, sleep took over.

---

**3:27 a. m.**

Daniel woke in stages.

First to the warmth.

Then to the softness pressed against him.

Then to the very real fact that he was hard--*achingly* hard--and his arms were wrapped tightly around Eva, her back nestled perfectly against his chest, her legs tangled with his.

She made a soft noise in her sleep, pressing closer.

And that was the end of it.

He was done.

He *should* have pulled away. He *should* have rolled over and gone to the damn armchair.

But he didn't.

He closed his eyes, jaw clenched, and let himself breathe in her scent.

Let himself feel.

Just for a few stolen hours.

And for the first time in weeks--

He slept.

---

**Chapter Fourteen: Temptation in the Dark**

Eva woke slowly, blinking against the early-morning haze. A faint sliver of dawn light slipped between the hotel curtains, casting a soft glow over the room.

She didn't remember falling asleep so close to him.

But now?

She was cradled in Daniel Langston's arms. One of his hands rested gently on her waist, fingers relaxed, and his breath was warm against the back of her neck. His body was pressed along hers, firm, solid--*safe* in a way she'd never known.

She had never slept so peacefully in her life.

Her lips curled into a sleepy smile.

Then... she felt it.

Her breath caught.

Pressed against her from behind, nestled along her backside and thigh, was the *hardest* erection she'd ever encountered. Thick. Unyielding. Heavy.

And long. *Very* long.

She stayed still for a beat, stunned.

*Oh my god.*

Her heartbeat quickened. Every part of her lit up with a wicked heat.

Slowly, carefully, she rolled over--his arm loosening with the motion. He didn't stir. Still deeply asleep, chest rising and falling evenly, lips parted slightly in the warm hush of morning.

He looked... peaceful. Unburdened. Vulnerable.

It made her want to ruin him.

A devilish idea bloomed in her mind.

She slid her fingers down, barely grazing over the thin fabric of his sleep pants, and *felt* him properly for the first time. He was massive--her fingers couldn't even close fully around the shape beneath the cotton.

Curiosity won.

Gently, slowly, she rolled him onto his back. He murmured something unintelligible, but didn't wake. His shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a toned abdomen, a trail of dark hair leading downward.

Kneeling beside him, her hands moved with reverence, mischief, and intent.

Her fingers found the waistband.

One slow pull. A soft breath.

And then--

Her eyes widened.

*Jesus.*

She had never seen anything like it.

Long, thick, smooth, flushed darker near the tip. Heavy. Almost intimidating. And yet--her hand moved instinctively, wrapping around the base, slowly stroking. Just once. Then again.

He stirred.

She froze.

His brow furrowed faintly in sleep, lips parting more, chest rising faster.

Eva licked her lips.

She leaned down.

And just as her mouth hovered over him--

He *woke.*

"Eva--!" His voice was a hoarse rasp, full of shock and heat and helplessness. His hand twitched toward her shoulder, unsure whether to stop her or pull her closer.

But her lips were already wrapping around him.

And then he couldn't speak at all.

---

**Chapter Fifteen: Let Me**

Daniel jolted fully awake the moment her warm lips wrapped around him.

"Eva--" he gasped, his hand darting to her shoulder, but not stopping her. Just... touching her. His eyes wide, breath already ragged. "What are you doing--?"

She looked up at him, lips wrapped around the thick head of his cock, and whispered softly, confidently:

"Shh... it's okay. Just let me."

His throat worked as he swallowed hard. "Eva--this is--"

But before he could finish, she slid down farther.

His words vanished.

His head fell back against the pillows with a groan--raw, guttural, full of disbelief and desire.

"God... you don't know what you're doing to me..."

But she *did* know. That was the whole point.

Her hand gripped the base of him, keeping him steady, while her mouth worked slowly, taking more and more, feeling the stretch, the heat, the pulse of him on her tongue. Every inch made her wetter. Every choked breath he took made her bolder.

It wasn't careful. It wasn't pretty.

It was *messy.*

Wet. Sloppy. Desperate.

She moaned around him, and the sound sent a shudder through his entire body.

"Eva--*fuck,*" he groaned, his fingers sliding into her hair now, not guiding her--just *holding on.*

She pulled back for a breath, lips slick and parted, eyes wild.

"You feel so good in my mouth," she whispered, stroking him slowly with her hand. "I've wanted this for *so* long."

He looked down at her--like he was drowning.

"You don't have to--"

"I *want* to," she cut in, voice thick with arousal. "I want to taste all of you. I want you to lose control."

And with that, she swallowed him again, deeper this time--his grip tightening, hips twitching upward involuntarily.

He couldn't resist anymore. Couldn't think. Couldn't fight.

"This is wrong," he muttered under his breath.

"But it feels right," she said softly, mouth kissing the tip before licking up the length, slow and sinful. "Tell me it doesn't."

He didn't.

Because he *couldn't.*

And when she took him deep again--sloppier now, faster, more desperate--he gave up the last piece of resistance he had left, moaning her name as if it were the only truth he'd ever known.

---

**Chapter Sixteen: Everything He's Been Denying**

Eva couldn't stop.

She didn't *want* to stop.

The taste of him, the sound of his breathless groans, the weight of his cock on her tongue--it all sent her spiraling deeper into something raw and unfiltered. She was trembling from the inside out, her thighs clenching under her sleep shirt, slick with how much she *needed* this.

Needed *him.*

Daniel was half sitting, half collapsed against the pillows, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths. His fingers were deep in her hair now, not guiding, just *gripping*, as if he was barely holding on.

"Eva..." he rasped, "you don't have to--"

She looked up with fire in her eyes. Her lips were glossy, her mouth parted, and her hand worked his shaft in smooth, practiced strokes.

"I *want* to," she whispered. "I want to make you feel so good you forget *everything.*"

And then she lowered her mouth again--slow, determined--taking more of him than before. Inch by inch. Her lips stretched, her throat opened, and when the thick head brushed the back of her throat, she *pushed past it.*

He gasped, hips bucking slightly, a tortured groan escaping his lips.

"*Fuck...* Eva--"

But she didn't stop.

She *wanted* to give him the best he'd ever had. And it showed.

Her head began to bob faster, cheeks hollowing, her tongue working him with maddening skill. She didn't mind the mess. She *welcomed* it. Spit dripped down her chin, strings of saliva connecting her mouth to the base of his cock each time she pulled back before sliding down again--wet, noisy, desperate.

The sounds were obscene, echoing off the quiet hotel walls.

He looked down at her like she was a dream. A forbidden, sinful dream that was *too real* now. His hand caressed her cheek, thumb brushing across her wet skin.

"You're unreal," he murmured. "You're going to ruin me."

She moaned in response, sending vibrations straight through him.

He could feel himself building--tight, throbbing, so close it terrified him.

"I'm--Eva--God, I'm gonna--"

She didn't stop.

If anything, she *sped up*, bobbing her head harder, faster, taking every inch until her nose pressed to his skin, until her throat welcomed every twitch of him.

And then he broke.

With a deep, strangled cry, he came--*hard*--his hips bucking, his fingers tangled in her hair as his release hit him like a wave he couldn't fight.

She swallowed it all.

Every pulse. Every drop. She kept her lips sealed tight, her throat working, her eyes locked on his the entire time.

Only when he finally fell back with a shattered groan did she slowly pull away, licking her lips.

And smiling.

He looked ruined.

Chest heaving. Face flushed. Sweat at his temples. And eyes wide with awe--and something else he couldn't name.

"Best you've ever had?" she asked, voice husky and satisfied.

He stared at her.

Speechless.

And nodded.

Slowly.

Once.

---

**Chapter Seventeen: Holding Back**

The sun rose over the city like nothing had happened.

Like Eva hadn't just dropped to her knees and destroyed every ounce of Daniel Langston's self-control.

But the conference couldn't wait--name tags, dry lectures, coffee stations, and stiff academic panels filled with people who took themselves far too seriously.

Daniel stood in front of the bathroom mirror that morning, fully dressed, but looking like he hadn't slept. His tie was knotted too tight. His shirt clung to the heat of his skin. And his reflection stared back at him with hollow-eyed restraint.

*You're a professional. You're married. You don't touch her again.*

But he could still feel her. Her mouth. Her hunger. Her *hands.*

And the worst part?

He wanted more.

---

**At the Conference -- 9:43 a. m.**

She wore a simple black dress.

Respectable. Elegant. Nothing outrageous.

And yet, Daniel couldn't stop staring.

Not because of her legs, or her perfume, or the soft sway of her hips as she walked ahead of him.

But because of her *mouth*.

Her lips were full--*swollen* from the night before. Glossed in a sheer pink that did nothing to hide what he already knew: that she'd wrapped them around him like she was starved for it.

Every time she licked them--absently, teasingly--it sent a sharp pulse through his cock.

"Do you think he knows his mic is still on while he's drinking?" she whispered during a panel, her breath brushing against his ear.

He shifted in his seat.

His slacks were already painfully tight.

"I need you to behave," he muttered, voice low and taut.

She gave him a look of pure innocence.

"I *am* behaving," she whispered back. "You have no idea how much I'm holding back."

---

**12:12 p. m. -- Coffee Break**

He tried to make polite conversation with a publishing rep, but Eva sat on the other side of the lounge area, delicately eating a strawberry.

Her eyes locked on his.

She slid her tongue over the juice on her bottom lip--slow, deliberate.

Daniel choked slightly on his sip of coffee.

"I... excuse me," he said quickly, stepping away and tugging at his collar.

Eva passed him near the table, leaned in slightly.

"You're flushed," she murmured. "You okay, Professor?"

He said nothing.

His jaw was clenched so tight it ached.

---

**2:37 p. m. -- Seminar Room 4B**

She brushed her hand across his back as they exited, fingers light and lingering just too long.

"Eva," he said under his breath. "You're *playing* with me."

She blinked up at him. "And you're *letting* me."

In the quiet space near the elevators, he turned toward her sharply.

"You need to stop."

She leaned in, her lips inches from his jaw. He could see the faint sheen on them, the flushed color. The reminder of what those lips had done.

"Do you know how wet I've been all day?" she whispered. "Every time you speak? Every time you *don't*?"

He exhaled shakily.

"I should drag you into a stairwell right now and remind you who you belong to," he growled softly.

She didn't flinch.

"Then do it."

But he didn't.

He stepped away again.

Barely holding it together.

---

**5:08 p. m. -- Final Panel**

He sat rigid in his chair, his erection a constant throb beneath the table. Beside him, Eva calmly flipped through the panel notes like she wasn't unraveling him from the inside out.

At one point, she leaned in again, voice playful and low.

"You've been hard for four hours. Want me to *take care of it* again?"

He didn't look at her.

He didn't *have* to.

Because the answer was already written in every inch of him.

And Eva?

Eva was glowing.

Smug. Confident. *Alive.*

Because for the first time, she wasn't chasing safety or comfort or love.

She was chasing *power*.

And she already had it.

---

**Chapter Eighteen: Break Point**

The ride back to the hotel was quiet--on the surface.

Outside, the city buzzed with fading daylight. Inside the cab, tension hung thick between them like static in the air.

Daniel's phone buzzed.

**Sophie -- Calling.**

He hesitated, jaw clenched, then finally answered. "Hey."

Eva sat beside him, arms folded loosely, her thigh brushing his. She turned her head to look out the window, but her lips curled faintly.

"Hey, babe," Sophie said, cheerful but distracted. "I just got out of that board meeting. You wouldn't *believe* how long these people can talk about nothing. How's the summit?"

"Busy," Daniel said, voice tight.

Eva's fingers moved.

They landed softly on his thigh.

His eyes darted to her. She wasn't even *looking* at him. Just resting her hand there like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"That's good. You networking?" Sophie asked.

Eva's fingers slid upward. Slowly. Deliberately.

"Y-yeah," he replied, clearing his throat. "A few panelists I used to know from Oxford. You know, just... catching up."

Eva's nails grazed the seam of his slacks, right where he was already hard--*still* hard--and growing worse by the second.

"That's great," Sophie said. "Anyway, I miss you. Call me before you sleep, okay?"

"Sure. Yeah. I will," he said through clenched teeth.

Eva's hand pressed down softly, watching him from the corner of her eye with a wicked little smile.

He hung up.

The second the call ended, he turned to her, seething. "That was low."

She leaned in, eyes shining. "You didn't tell me to stop."

---

**Back at the Hotel Room**

He stormed in ahead of her, shoulders tight, breathing hard. She followed casually, toying with her hair, smiling like she already knew how this night would end.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said sweetly, already tugging at the tie around her waist.

He didn't respond.

Didn't *dare*.

---

The sound of water filled the room, then stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening.

He stood near the window, staring at the skyline, hands in fists.

Still hard.

Still burning.

And then--

"Daniel?" her soft voice called.

He turned.

And saw her.

Naked.

Hair damp, skin flushed from the hot water, her body glowing in the low hotel light. She stood in the bathroom doorway like a vision meant to break him. Arms at her sides. Bare. Unapologetic. *Beautiful.*

"I forgot a towel," she said, smiling, eyes innocent. "Do you mind--"

He dropped the glass in his hand.

It hit the carpet with a soft thud.

And in two strides, he was *on her.*

He pushed her *hard* against the wall, hands gripping her waist, mouth crashing into hers.

"*Fuck it,*" he growled against her lips.

Eva gasped, her back slamming softly into the cool wall, her body shuddering from the impact--and the heat of him.

She moaned into his mouth, her fingers curling into his hair.

He kissed her like he was starving.

Like he was done pretending.

And she?

She was *on fire.*

Overwhelmed. Breathless. Completely undone by his strength and the sharp edge of his want.

She arched into him, whispering his name, as his hands slid lower--

---

**Chapter Nineteen: No More Holding Back**

She couldn't breathe.

Pressed against the hotel room wall, Daniel's mouth devoured hers with a ferocity she had only imagined in her dirtiest dreams. All the restraint, the silence, the months of barely-contained lust had combusted the moment she walked out of the bathroom naked and smiling.

Now, she wasn't smiling.

She was *panting*.

And he was *done* pretending.

His hands roamed over her wet skin--her waist, her hips, her thighs--gripping like he needed to memorize every inch by touch alone.

His voice came low, guttural, barely human.

"I'm not going to be gentle with you, Eva."

She shivered at the sound of her name in that voice. "Good," she whispered breathlessly. "I don't want you to be."

He leaned in, growling at her ear, "No sweet kisses. No slow buildup. You made me suffer for *days.* You'll feel it."

"Then take me," she gasped, trembling against him. "Show me."

That was all it took.

He spun her around and threw her onto the bed.

She landed with a gasp, sheets twisting beneath her, heart pounding in her ears. Before she could even process it, he was pulling off his shirt with a savage jerk, then unbuckling his pants--ripping them down and off with one brutal motion. He left only his briefs on, the thick outline of his cock tenting the fabric in a way that made her thighs press together in instinctive need.

She whimpered.

He crawled onto the bed like a man possessed.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice dark and hoarse as he hovered over her. "So wet. So *eager.*"

She reached for him, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand.

"You wanted to play games," he hissed against her neck. "Now I'm going to ruin you."

And then his mouth was *everywhere.*

He kissed down her neck, biting lightly, tongue sliding over her collarbone, licking the water droplets from her skin like she was something decadent and forbidden. Her body arched as he moved down--over her chest, sucking one nipple into his mouth, then the other, worshiping her with rough, hungry lips that made her cry out.

"Oh God--Daniel--"

He released her wrists just long enough to slide down and grip her thighs, spreading them wide with both hands, firm and commanding.

She was exposed. Open. Dripping for him.

"You smell like heaven," he muttered, his breath hot against her. "And you're shaking already."

"I want you," she begged, her voice cracking. "Please..."

But he didn't fuck her.

Not yet.

Instead, he buried his face between her legs with a deep groan like he was starving for it.

"*Fuck--*" Eva gasped, her entire body jerking off the mattress as his tongue slid up through her folds, slow and devastating.

He licked her again.

Then again.

And then--

He *devoured* her.

Rough. Messy. Purposeful.

His mouth moved with maddening rhythm, sucking and circling her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her pinned down as she writhed under his mouth.

Her moans turned into sobs. Her hands fisted the sheets. She'd never been eaten like this--like she was the only thing he needed to breathe.

"You taste so fucking good," he growled, voice muffled against her. "So sweet. So *mine.*"

A finger slipped inside her.

She cried out.

Then another.

And his tongue never stopped.

"Come for me," he demanded. "Scream for me. Let them *all* hear what I do to you."

She was already gone--hips bucking, legs shaking.

And then it hit.

Her orgasm ripped through her like a thunderclap--*screaming*, back arched, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat as she shattered around his fingers and mouth.

She'd never come like that. Never *felt* like that.

He didn't stop.

Not right away.

He kissed up her trembling thighs, back to her stomach, licking and biting until her body gave one last exhausted tremble and she collapsed fully into the mattress.

She stared up at him, dazed, gasping.

He hovered over her again, chest heaving, lips wet with her.

"You've wanted me to break," he said, his voice barely more than a growl. "Well, baby... I'm broken."

---

**Chapter Twenty: Finally Yours**

Eva was still trembling.

Her body hadn't stopped twitching since the orgasm--violent, soul-snatching, unstoppable--tore through her moments ago. Her thighs were still slick. Her chest rose and fell in frantic waves.

And Daniel... Daniel was no longer pretending.

He moved up her body, his mouth crashing onto hers in a rough, hungry kiss. No gentleness, no hesitation--just raw need. His lips devoured hers, tongue sliding deep, claiming her like he had every right.

She moaned into the kiss, arms flying around his shoulders, fingers gripping his back, his muscles taut and flexing beneath her touch.

And then she felt it.

The brush of his cock--still thick, still rock-hard--pressing against her thigh as he ground his hips against her, breath ragged.

He pulled back only long enough to yank down his underwear, finally freeing himself.

Eva gasped when she saw him fully--*again* stunned by his size. Long, heavy, perfect. And all for her.

He grabbed himself and ran the tip between her folds, smearing her slickness over her entrance.

"You feel what you do to me?" he growled, voice hoarse and trembling. "This is what you've been teasing for weeks."

Eva nodded, wide-eyed and desperate. "Please..."

He gritted his teeth. "You're too tight for me to go fast."

"I don't care," she whispered, wrapping her legs around him. "I want all of you. *Now.*"

He lined himself up and slowly pushed forward--just the tip. She cried out, clinging to him harder.

"*Fuck,*" he gasped, forehead pressing against hers. "You're so wet... but so goddamn tight."

She moaned uncontrollably, her hips rising to meet him. "Don't stop--please--Daniel--*please--*"

He pushed deeper.

Her mouth fell open, a broken sound escaping her throat as inch after thick inch stretched her.

"Almost there," he groaned, panting against her neck. "I haven't even bottomed out yet."

"Do it," she begged. "Give it to me. I want it all. I can *take* it--"

With a low growl, he drove the rest of the way in, until his hips met hers and she was completely full--*stuffed* with him, shaking under the weight and stretch of it.

Her eyes rolled back. "Oh my *God.*"

He held still, breathing hard, forehead pressed against her cheek.

"Jesus, Eva..." he muttered. "I could lose myself in this."

"Then *do it,*" she whimpered. "Lose yourself in me."

He looked at her.

And began to move.

Slowly at first--long, deep thrusts that made her arch into him, moaning louder with each one. Her body clung to him like it had been made for his.

"You're mine now," he whispered, kissing down her jaw. "Every inch of you."

"Yes," she breathed. "I've always been yours."

He started to speed up, hips slamming into her just a bit harder now, hands gripping her thighs to pull her closer.

"You feel that?" he growled into her ear. "That's what you've been begging for."

"More," she gasped. "Don't stop. Please--Daniel--don't stop."

"You're taking me so fucking good," he snarled. "Like you were *built* for this cock."

Her nails raked down his back. "I *was.* I *am.*"

Every thrust hit deeper.

Every sound she made pulled him closer to the edge.

And as she writhed beneath him, overwhelmed, moaning non-stop, eyes glassy and mouth trembling, he kissed her again--rough, desperate, claiming her all over again.

---

**Chapter Twenty-One: Ruin**

He was deep inside her--*completely*--but that wasn't enough.

Daniel pulled back slowly, his cock dragging along her soaked walls until only the tip remained inside her trembling, overstimulated body.

Then--

He *slammed* forward.

The sound was obscene--wet, raw, echoing off the walls of the hotel room like a promise of everything he couldn't take back.

Eva cried out, legs tightening around his hips, her back arching off the mattress.

"*Daniel!*"

"You wanted me broken," he growled through clenched teeth, slamming into her again. "Now take *everything.*"

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Every thrust was harder. Meaner. Deeper.

The slick sounds between them only drove him more insane--she was *gushing* for him, soaking him, the sheets, the mattress.

Her fingers clawed at his shoulders, mouth open in a scream.

"You fuck me like you've *never* fucked her," she moaned wildly, gasping as his cock drove into her again. "Bet she doesn't get you this hard."

Daniel froze for half a second, his jaw clenched tight.

"You don't say her name," he hissed.

She smiled--breathless, wicked, shaking from pleasure.

"I bet she doesn't take you like I do," Eva panted. "She doesn't scream. She doesn't gush all over you. She doesn't *need* you."

"Eva--"

"She can't fuck you like *this,*" she sobbed as he slammed into her again, her voice breaking. "*No one* can."

He lost it.

His rhythm turned brutal. His body took over.

And Eva *shattered*.

Her eyes flew open, mouth wide in a silent scream as she convulsed beneath him, her orgasm ripping through her body like a shockwave. She gushed all over his cock, her thighs shaking violently, her nails digging into his arms.

"*God, yes--*Daniel, I'm *yours*--"

He pulled out with a growl, fist wrapped around his length as he came--hot and thick--across her stomach and chest, ropes of cum painting her trembling skin while he gasped her name like a prayer he could no longer deny.

---

Minutes passed.

Silence.

Breathing.

His body slowly relaxed as he knelt over her, eyes dark with awe and disbelief.

Eva looked wrecked. Her skin flushed, her legs still twitching, sweat glistening on her chest.

And yet--

She reached for him.

With a sweet, almost gentle smile, she leaned up and took him into her mouth--softly now, her lips delicate around his oversensitive cock, her tongue slow and teasing.

He twitched in her mouth, growling low. "Eva--God--you're going to kill me..."

But she didn't stop.

Not until he was clean.

Not until he was panting, eyes glazed over, hips twitching with overstimulation.

When she finally released him with a soft pop and rested her head on his thigh, her eyes closed and content, Daniel looked down at her.

She was glowing.

Destroyed.

Sated.

And he?

He was addicted.

Wrecked by her. Body and soul.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair and whispered to himself, "I'm in so much fucking trouble."

---

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Crossed Lines**

The room was dim, quiet except for the hum of the city outside the window and the soft rustle of sheets.

Daniel sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, staring at the name on the screen.

**Sophie -- Call Now.**

He had promised.

His thumb hovered for a moment before he hit "Dial."

The ringing was sharp in his ear. With every second that passed, guilt curled tighter around his ribs.

*You shouldn't be here.*

*You shouldn't have touched her.*

But he had.

And he'd do it again.

"Hey," Sophie's voice came, warm and distracted. "You're calling late."

"Yeah," Daniel said, voice tight. "Got caught up in the panels."

He didn't mention that the woman he'd been caught up in wasn't *on* any panel.

"Everything going well?" she asked.

He swallowed. "Fine. Productive. Long day."

Behind him, Eva stirred.

He didn't turn to look--but he felt her.

The shift in the mattress. The weight behind him. The slow slide of the comforter.

"Glad to hear it," Sophie continued. "It's nice to hear your voice. I've missed it lately."

Daniel closed his eyes, guilt tightening. "I've missed you too."

It wasn't a lie.

But it wasn't the truth, either.

He felt the blanket move behind him. Then her hands--slow, warm--on his thighs.

"Where are you now?" Sophie asked casually.

"In bed," he said. "Trying to wind down."

Eva's fingers slipped under the waistband of his briefs, wrapping around him.

He inhaled sharply.

"You okay?" Sophie asked.

"Yeah--just tired."

Eva crawled forward, now fully under the blanket, her mouth replacing her hand.

He bit his lip, eyes flying open, legs tensing as the wet heat of her tongue slid over his already hardening cock.

"Jesus," he whispered--not into the phone, but to himself.

"You sure?" Sophie asked, confused.

"Y-Yeah. Just sore. Stiff. From sitting."

Eva's tongue circled the tip, her lips closing around him with maddening precision. He was already too close from the hours before. Her mouth--so soft, so eager--moved up and down slowly, deliberately.

"Daniel?" Sophie asked.

"I'm here," he said, trying not to gasp. "Just--thinking about tomorrow's schedule."

Eva sucked harder, taking him deeper.

He clenched his fist around the sheets.

"I should let you go," Sophie said, sweetly unaware. "You sound wiped."

"Probably a good idea," he said, his voice strangled. "I'll... I'll call you when I can."

"Love you," she said.

"... You too."

He ended the call.

Eva pulled the blanket down just enough to peek at him with a wicked glint in her eye--and didn't stop.

She took him deeper now, her head bobbing, lips sloppy, saliva glistening as she made a mess of him all over again.

"*You're insane,*" he groaned, one hand in her hair. "You have no idea how bad this is."

She pulled back with a sinful smile, stroking him slowly. "You called her with my taste still in your mouth. Don't pretend you didn't like it."

Then she sank down again--fast, deep, rough--and within seconds, he was coming with a sharp cry, hips jerking, hand tangled in the sheets as his release pulsed into her waiting throat.

She swallowed it all.

Again.

And when she crawled up beside him, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she grinned.

"You're terrible at multitasking."

He laughed--helpless, breathless, ruined. "You're going to destroy me."

"Probably," she whispered, curling up against his chest.

His arm went around her without hesitation.

They didn't speak again.

Sleep took them fast, tangled together, bodies still hot from the fire neither of them could put out.

---

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Mine**

The final day of the summit started like any other--stale coffee, recycled lanyards, and a sea of suits trying to outtalk each other.

But *he* noticed the moment it changed.

The man was maybe mid-forties. Expensive watch. Overconfident grin. He'd cornered Eva near the espresso bar after her brief networking chat with a female panelist. Daniel spotted the shift in her posture immediately. Relaxed to tense. Amused to flat.

And the man just *wouldn't* stop talking.

"Are you with anyone here?" the executive asked, not bothering to look at her face.

Daniel stepped in before she could answer.

"She's with me," he said, tone cold, authoritative. "We're attending together."

The man blinked, gave Daniel a cursory glance--then smirked. "Ah. The professor."

Daniel stared him down. "Walk away."

Something in his voice made the executive rethink his charm. He gave a condescending shrug and walked off.

Eva looked up at Daniel with a slow smile. "You're protective."

He looked down at her, jaw tight. "You have no idea what I wanted to do to him."

"Well," she whispered, brushing her fingers over the back of his hand, "save it for later."

---

**An Hour Later -- Hotel Restaurant, Lunch Rush**

They sat in a quiet booth, tucked near the window. Daniel had finally started to relax. They talked--*really* talked--for the first time in days. About books. Her childhood. His years in Oxford. Her loneliness. His hollow marriage. He listened to her. And for a moment, it felt... still.

Then Eva's eyes dropped to his lap.

And she smirked.

"I just had a thought," she said casually, leaning in. "What if I gave you a reward?"

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Eva..."

But she was already scooting closer in the booth.

Already unzipping his slacks under the table with practiced ease.

"Don't you *dare*--" he started, glancing around the restaurant.

She placed a finger over his lips.

"Talk to me about literature," she whispered, hand sliding into his briefs. "Nice and calm."

Her fingers wrapped around him.

*Thick. Hard. Ready.*

Daniel stiffened in more ways than one.

"You're out of your mind," he whispered.

"And you love it."

She started stroking him--slow, tight, merciless. All while nodding at something he had just said. "I always thought D. H. Lawrence was the filthiest romantic," she said aloud, smiling like nothing was happening.

Daniel gripped the edge of the table, jaw clenched, breath shallow.

Then she *let* her spoon fall.

"Oh--clumsy me," she said sweetly.

And before he could stop her, she ducked under the tablecloth.

"*Eva--*" he growled.

Her mouth found him instantly.

Hot. Wet. Silent.

She sucked him slowly, deeply, tongue swirling, lips tight around him while the hotel restaurant buzzed with chatter.

He was dying.

Dying and hard as stone.

"*Fuck,*" he hissed through his teeth, one hand sliding under the table to thread through her hair. "You're going to get us caught."

She moaned softly around him--*on purpose*.

And he *snapped.*

He yanked her up by the arm--her lips slick, her eyes mischievous.

"Not here," he growled. "I swear to God--"

He pulled out a wad of cash, threw it onto the table, and grabbed her wrist.

---

**Hotel Hallway. Room Door Not Even Closed.**

The second they were inside, he shoved her against the wall, his mouth crashing down onto hers with a furious kiss.

"You think you're in control?" he growled, tearing her dress open. Buttons flew. Fabric ripped.

She gasped, laughing into the kiss. "I *know* I am."

He hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and slammed into her without pause--deep, brutal, primal.

She screamed his name, head thrown back.

"*Say it again,*" he demanded between thrusts. "Say you're better than her."

"I'm *yours,*" she cried. "I make you hard. I make you *lose it.* She never did. She never *could.*"

He growled, driving into her harder, pinning her to the wall, one hand gripping her ass while the other held the back of her neck.

"You want me to destroy you?" he whispered, voice rough. "Because I *will.*"

Her moan was pure pleasure. "Then do it."

---

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Fractures**

The university halls looked the same, but nothing felt familiar anymore.

Eva walked across campus with her bag slung over one shoulder, her head down, heart pounding every time she saw a navy blazer or heard a low British voice in the distance.

Daniel Langston had returned to being Professor Langston.

Cold. Formal. Distant.

In class, he barely looked at her. In meetings, he called her "Miss Laurent" again. And in the halls, when their paths crossed, he nodded politely like she was just another student.

It broke her.

She hadn't expected him to parade her around. But she had *felt* what they were. The way he touched her. The way he *held* her after. The way he'd kissed her like he couldn't stop.

But now?

Now he pretended like it had never happened.

---

"Maybe he's just scared," Callie offered softly one afternoon as they sat on the steps outside the literature building.

"Then why does he act like I don't exist?" Eva whispered, voice cracking. "I thought we had something real. Not just sex. Not just lust."

Nina didn't say anything. For once, her sarcasm was gone.

And Eva felt like she was unraveling.

---

**That Friday -- Her Apartment**

The door creaked open to reveal something she hadn't expected.

Her parents.

Standing in the hallway, smiling--*smiling*--with flowers and gifts like they were starring in a commercial.

"Sweetheart," her mother said, pulling her into a hug. "We were just passing through and wanted to surprise you."

Eva stood stiffly. "Passing through? You're in the country for one night and came *here*?"

"We've missed you," her father added, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We made a dinner reservation. Just the three of us."

And for a moment, her heart softened.

---

**Two Hours Later -- Le Jardin, an Upscale Restaurant**

Eva walked between her parents, dressed in a black dress she'd worn once to a gala. The restaurant was gleaming, soft candlelight dancing on the walls.

But then she saw him.

A man. Early thirties. Expensive suit. Gold watch. Too charming smile.

And waiting at their table.

*Not just the three of us.*

She stopped walking.

"Eva," her mother said calmly. "This is Marcus. He's the son of one of your father's partners. You'll love him."

Eva's blood ran cold.

"This is why you showed up? So you could *auction me off* over risotto?"

Her mother's smile didn't waver. "Don't be dramatic."

"I'm not a bargaining chip," Eva hissed.

"You're being childish," her father snapped.

And then--

*Crack.*

Her mother slapped her. Not hard. But sharp. Sudden.

The restaurant fell quiet. Eva's cheek burned.

Her eyes filled instantly. "You flew in for one night and used it to sell me."

And with that, she turned and ran.

Out the door.

Into the rain.

---

**Ten Minutes Later -- On the Phone**

Her fingers were shaking so badly she could barely hold her phone. Rain poured down her hair and clothes, soaking her to the bone. Her lips were numb. Her throat felt tight.

She dialed the only number she trusted.

"Daniel," she whispered when he answered.

He heard everything in her voice.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, rising from wherever he was.

"Please," she said, barely breathing. "I--I don't know where to go--"

"I'm coming," he said. "Send me your location. Right now."

---

**That Night -- Daniel's Apartment**

He lied to his wife.

Said a student was in crisis. That he had to help. That he'd explain later.

Sophie didn't argue. She simply nodded and made up the guest bed.

When he brought Eva inside, soaked, trembling, mascara streaked, she didn't ask questions. She just wrapped a towel around her and helped her sit on the couch.

Daniel knelt beside her, brushing wet strands of hair from her forehead.

She was shaking violently. Her fingers clenched his shirt like a lifeline.

"I can't--breathe," she gasped, chest heaving.

"You're safe," he whispered. "Breathe with me. In. Out. I've got you. I'm here."

She broke.

"I don't have anyone," she cried, clutching him. "They don't *see* me. I'm just... alone. Always."

He held her tighter, heart breaking. "You're not alone. Not anymore."

He looked up at Sophie, who watched quietly from the hallway, her face calm but unreadable.

"I'll stay with her," he said softly.

Sophie nodded once. "She can take the guest room."

And left them in the quiet.

---

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Not Just Sex**

Sophie stood by the door, dressed in a crisp navy suit, keys in hand, lips pursed.

She glanced down the hallway, where Daniel had just closed the guest room door behind him.

"She's still asleep?" she asked evenly.

Daniel nodded. "Yeah. She had a rough night."

Sophie looked at him, long and searching. "She means something to you."

It wasn't a question.

He didn't answer.

She sighed. "I'll be at the firm until late. Let me know if she needs anything."

"Sophie--"

"I'm not stupid, Daniel," she said, her voice soft but firm. "But I'm not cruel either. I know what loneliness looks like."

She gave him a look--measured, weary--and left without another word.

The door closed.

And he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath all morning.

---

He knocked gently before pushing open the door.

Eva lay curled beneath the duvet, still wearing one of Sophie's long cotton shirts. Her hair clung to her face, damp with sweat. Her eyes were half-open, glassy. Her lips were pale.

"Eva," he whispered, kneeling by the bed. "Hey..."

She whimpered when he touched her forehead.

*Too hot.*

She was burning up.

"I--I didn't mean to fall apart," she mumbled. "I just... I needed someone."

"You don't have to explain," he said softly. "You're safe now."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Please don't leave me."

"I'm right here."

"I mean it," she whispered. "Don't go. Not for a minute."

"I won't."

She reached out, weak fingers curling around his shirt.

And that's when he did something he never thought he would.

He climbed into the bed beside her.

Not to touch her. Not to claim her.

But to *be* there.

Because she needed it.

She turned into him immediately, her arms wrapping around his waist, her face pressing into his chest like she was afraid he might disappear. Her body trembled against him.

"You're the only thing keeping me from losing it," she whispered into the fabric of his shirt. "When I'm near you, I feel like I'm not invisible."

He stroked her hair gently, fingers sliding through the damp strands.

"You're not invisible," he said. "You never were. They just didn't deserve to see you."

She started crying again--quiet, broken sobs that shook her small frame.

"I thought I was just something you wanted to touch. To fuck. But last night... and now..." She looked up at him, voice fragile. "This is more, isn't it?"

Daniel swallowed hard. His chest ached. "I told myself it wasn't. I told myself I could stop."

"But you can't," she whispered.

"No," he said, voice hollow. "I can't."

She gripped him tighter. "Then don't."

They stayed like that--pressed close in the quiet hum of the guest room.

No sex. No lust.

Just her, trembling in his arms.

And him, slowly realizing that he wasn't protecting a student anymore.

He was holding the one person who made him feel alive.

And she was breaking his heart just by needing him.

---

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Lines Crossed, Lines Held**

It was early afternoon when the knock came.

Daniel opened the front door to find **Callie** and **Nina** standing on the apartment's landing, bundled in oversized coats and looking far too serious for their usual teasing energy.

"Hi," Callie said, softly. "We brought tea. And soup. The good kind."

Nina raised a paper bag. "And magazines. Because we're old-school."

Daniel stepped aside.

"She's in the guest room," he said. "Still resting."

Nina arched a brow. "We know."

---

Inside the room, Eva was sitting up in bed, wrapped in layers, her hair slightly damp from a recent shower, cheeks still flushed with fever. She blinked when her friends entered.

"Oh my God," Callie gasped, setting everything down and rushing to her. "You *look* like hell, but I'm so glad you're okay."

"I'm alive," Eva croaked.

"Barely," Nina muttered, pulling up a chair and crossing her arms. "What the hell, Eva? Why didn't you call *us*?"

"I didn't know where to go," Eva whispered. "I just... I broke. And he came."

The girls exchanged a glance.

"You really trust him?" Callie asked.

Eva nodded.

"He's the only person who didn't want to use me. Or abandon me. Or fix me for their own benefit."

Nina exhaled. "We won't tell anyone. You know that, right?"

"I know."

Callie reached out and gently squeezed her hand. "But we're scared. You're... too alone."

"I'm safer here," Eva said. "You both know I can't stay with you. Your parents talk to mine. I can't risk them finding me."

Nina leaned back. "Fair point. If they even knew you were *sick*..."

Eva's phone buzzed on the nightstand.

**Mom -- Calling.**

Again.

She stared at it.

"Maybe you should just--" Callie began, but Eva was already answering.

"Eva," her mother's voice rang out, cool and composed. "It's been *four days*. You ignored ten of our calls."

"I know," Eva said, voice flat.

"Your father and I are flying back this weekend. We'll collect your things from the university and have you home by Sunday. Marcus has been very patient."

Eva blinked. "I'm sick."

A pause.

"Sick?" her mother repeated. "With what?"

"A fever. A cold. I've been in bed for days."

Her mother didn't even *react*.

"You're exaggerating. You always were sensitive. If you'd just stop being so dramatic--"

"*Dramatic?*" Eva's voice cracked. "You didn't even know I was sick. You didn't *care.* You just want me to marry someone I've never even liked."

"Don't raise your voice."

"*You hit me.*" Eva's hands were shaking. "And now you want me to smile and *dress up* and walk back into that house like I belong to you?"

"You *do* belong to us," her father's voice cut in suddenly--he was on speaker. "And we'll discuss this properly when you're back."

"I'm not coming back," Eva said, voice trembling with fury. "You don't *own* me. You don't even *see* me."

And she hung up.

The silence afterward was deafening.

---

Later that evening, after Callie and Nina had left--reluctantly, with hugs and tearful warnings--Eva sat on the couch, legs curled under her, still pale, still wrapped in a blanket.

Daniel brought her a cup of tea.

She looked up at him with exhausted eyes. "I'm sorry. You didn't sign up for this."

He sat beside her. "You think I don't care?"

"You've done enough," she said quietly. "You don't have to keep pretending to be my hero."

"I'm not pretending," he said. "You can stay here as long as you need. I want you here."

Eva looked at him--searching, unsure. "Even with her here?"

He paused.

Then: "Yes."

And she nodded once, slowly.

And leaned her head against his shoulder.

---

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Under Her Roof**

It had been two days since the phone call, since Eva had collapsed into Daniel's life and made herself part of it--quietly, invisibly, carefully.

Sophie was kind.

Polite.

She offered Eva tea in the morning, passed her tissues and gentle smiles, even left extra space in the fridge for her things. But her eyes were too observant, her silences too loaded. She *knew* something was off. She just hadn't named it yet.

And beneath that perfect, unspoken tension of the house, something else simmered hotter.

*Them.*

Eva and Daniel couldn't be alone for more than a minute without something *breaking* inside them.

---

**That Evening -- The Kitchen**

Daniel was rinsing mugs when she slipped in behind him, barefoot, her oversized borrowed sweater falling off one shoulder. She didn't touch him--just stood close enough for her breath to brush his neck.

"You always tense up when she's nearby," Eva whispered.

"She's my *wife,*" he said under his breath.

"She's your roommate," Eva murmured, eyes dark. "You barely even look at her."

"She's kind to you."

"She pities me."

He turned around, jaw tight. "You can't... *start this* here."

Her hand slid down his chest, slow and bold. "Why not? She's upstairs. Door closed. Lights off."

"Eva--" His voice caught as her fingers grazed just above his waistband. "This is *insane.*"

"You want me," she whispered, stepping in, lips inches from his. "Right here. Right now."

He caught her wrist.

But not before she felt him--hard under his jeans, throbbing, undeniable.

His grip tightened.

"I want you *every second,*" he hissed. "But not like this. Not *while she's in the house.*"

She stared at him, eyes fierce with desire and frustration. "Then when?"

He didn't answer.

---

**The Next Morning -- The Hallway**

Sophie was in the shower.

Daniel walked past the guest room--only to be pulled inside with a gasp. The door clicked shut.

Eva pinned him against it, hands on his chest.

"She's not out yet," she whispered. "You've got five minutes."

Her mouth was already on his neck, her hand sliding boldly over his growing erection through his pants.

He groaned softly, grabbing her waist and spinning her so *she* was against the wall.

"I said not here," he whispered, but his hand was already under her sweater, gripping her bare hip. "Goddammit, Eva."

Her breath hitched. "I want *all* of you, Daniel."

He rested his forehead against hers, struggling to breathe. "You'll get me," he murmured. "But not like this. Not with doors one knock away."

She pouted.

"Soon?" she asked.

He nodded slowly. "Soon."

---

**Later -- In Her Room**

She lay on her bed, legs tangled in the blankets, the phantom touch of his hand still burning on her skin.

The sexual tension was *everywhere* now.

And though she ached for him... she would wait.

Because he was scared.

And for now?

He was still *hers.*

Even if no one could know.

---

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: No More Restraint**

The first day back at campus was unbearable.

For weeks, Daniel had fought it--clung to guilt, to logic, to the fading thread of self-control. But the stolen looks in lectures, the accidental touches in hallways, and the memory of Eva's breathy moans in his arms had gnawed at his resolve like a storm at sea.

And Eva?

She didn't help.

She wore soft sweaters that slid off one shoulder. Skirts that clung to her hips when she leaned over his desk to drop off assignments. Her eyes said everything her mouth didn't--*you still want me*.

He tried.

He tried to be Professor Langston again.

But she was the only test he could never pass.

---

It happened on a Wednesday.

The hallway outside his office was nearly empty, the late afternoon sun painting golden lines across the tile floor. Eva knocked once, slipped inside, and quietly locked the door behind her.

He was already standing, muscles tense, trying to appear composed behind his desk.

"We need to talk," he said, voice rough.

But she was already walking toward him.

He swallowed hard.

"Eva--"

"Shut up," she whispered.

And then they *crashed* into each other.

Her hands flew to his shirt, yanking at the buttons as their mouths met in a hungry, violent kiss. His fingers tangled in her hair, then slid down to grab her thighs and lift her up onto the desk with a thud, scattering papers everywhere.

"Do you have *any* idea what you do to me?" he growled into her neck, biting and sucking as she gasped. "I can't *think* when you're around."

"Then stop trying," she panted, pulling off her sweater and tugging at his belt. "Show me."

He spun her around so fast she squealed, bending her over the desk and tearing her panties down in one rough pull. His hand gripped her hip as he pushed his pants down just enough to free himself--hard, thick, already pulsing with need.

She was soaked.

And when he slid in with one deep thrust, she arched and *screamed*.

"Too loud," he muttered, leaning over and kissing her hard--deep and consuming--his hand wrapping around her mouth as he started thrusting.

Fast.

Hard.

Her body jerked with every movement, the desk creaking under them.

"*You're mine,*" he hissed into her ear. "You understand me? No one else gets you like this. No one *ever* will."

She nodded, moaning into his kiss.

His hand slid between her legs, fingers stroking her clit in perfect rhythm with his hips.

"You're going to come," he said darkly. "I want to *feel* it when you do."

She was already shaking. Her breath stuttered. Her legs buckled.

And then she *exploded*, her orgasm slamming through her so hard she bit down on his lip to keep from crying out, her walls pulsing wildly around him.

He didn't stop.

Not even for a second.

"Again," he demanded. "Give me another."

She was sobbing now--pleasure and shock and ecstasy flooding her limbs.

And when he slammed into her again, hitting that perfect angle, her second orgasm tore through her like lightning.

"*Daniel!*" she cried out.

He grabbed her by the waist, pulled her up slightly, and kissed her hard--swallowing the sound of her screams as he came, *deep* inside her, filling her so much she trembled all over again.

"*Fuck--Eva--*" he groaned, holding her tightly as she shivered and clenched around him.

She moaned a third time, high and broken, and another orgasm hit--softer, smaller, but devastating. She collapsed over the desk, breathing in short gasps, fingers gripping the edge for dear life.

They stayed like that for minutes.

Still.

Spent.

Panting.

He eventually leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck, then rested his forehead against her spine.

"I can't stay away from you," he said, voice hoarse. "I've tried."

"I don't want you to," she whispered. "Even if it destroys everything."

He slowly pulled out, both of them moaning at the overstimulation, and helped her turn around. She was still flushed, legs shaking, hair wild. She looked up at him like he was the only thing in the world that made sense.

He kissed her softly--almost sweetly now.

And neither of them said a word.

Because they both knew this wasn't just lust anymore.

It was a choice.

And they'd both already made it.

---

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Dangerous Games**

Eva had accepted the conditions.

Daniel wasn't ready to make it public--not yet. Not with Sophie still in the picture, not with the university breathing down his neck. He made her promise: discretion. No scenes. No slips.

She had agreed.

But that didn't mean she would make it easy for him.

---

**At Home -- Late Evening**

The apartment was quiet. Sophie was still at the firm, working late as usual. Eva walked barefoot from the guest room to the kitchen in nothing but one of Daniel's button-down shirts--*his* shirt--and nothing underneath.

She knew he was watching.

He sat at the dining table, trying to read. But when she opened the fridge, bent slightly, and reached for a bottle of water, the shirt rose just enough to reveal the curve of her bare ass.

He groaned, low and helpless.

"Eva..." he warned.

She turned slowly, twisting the cap open, then raised the bottle to her lips and drank--eyes locked on his.

"I'm just getting water," she said sweetly.

"Put on something decent."

"I *am* decent. I'm in your shirt."

His eyes narrowed. "You're not wearing a bra."

"Nope."

He stood, his jaw tight, the tension already thick in the air.

"You're also not wearing panties."

She smiled innocently. "You noticed."

He crossed the space between them in two strides and grabbed her waist, pushing her up against the fridge.

"You think this is funny?"

"I think it's *hot.*" She hooked one leg around his hip. "I think you want me so bad it hurts."

His hand slid up under the shirt, grabbing her bare ass.

"You're playing with fire," he whispered.

"Then burn me."

---

**Later That Week -- On Campus**

They kept their distance during lectures. No lingering eye contact. No accidental touches. To everyone else, she was just another student. He was just her professor.

But in the library stacks--on the upper floor where no one went--he found her.

She stood with a thick anthology in her hands, pretending to read.

But when he came up behind her and pressed close, she didn't flinch.

"You're insane," he murmured against her neck.

"I've been waiting for you," she whispered. "Ten whole minutes."

His hand slid up the inside of her thigh.

No panties.

Again.

He groaned.

"Eva--*Jesus.*"

"I like when you can't control yourself."

She reached back, grabbing him through his slacks.

"You're already hard," she whispered. "In public. For *me.*"

His fingers slipped between her legs, and she gasped--already wet, slick, ready.

"I could take you right here," he muttered. "Make you come in the middle of a poetry aisle."

"Do it," she breathed. "Please..."

But he didn't. Not this time.

Instead, he teased her--fingers slow and maddening--until she was trembling against the shelf, biting her wrist to keep from moaning.

Then he pulled away.

"I'll finish what I started," he said, voice low, "*tonight.*"

---

**That Night -- Home Again**

She was waiting when he got in.

Still no underwear.

Just the same shirt, unbuttoned now. Nothing underneath.

He pushed the door shut and dropped everything.

They didn't make it to the bedroom.

He bent her over the arm of the couch and slid into her from behind, her gasp echoing off the walls.

"You tease me all day," he growled, pounding into her, one hand fisted in her hair. "Then act like you don't know what you're doing."

"I know *exactly* what I'm doing," she sobbed, already close.

He reached around and rubbed her clit fast and hard.

She screamed into the cushions as she came, her body clenching around him, legs shaking.

He wasn't far behind.

With a loud, broken grunt, he came inside her, gripping her hips so hard she'd feel it for hours.

They collapsed onto the couch after, tangled and breathless.

"I'm addicted to you," he whispered.

She smiled into his chest. "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

---

**Chapter Thirty: Friends and Fractures**

The past few weeks had been a blur of stolen touches, whispered moans behind closed doors, and barely-contained lust masked as professionalism. But even Eva needed air, needed something *normal.*

So she texted Callie and Nina.

**Eva:** *Emergency. I need girl time. Bring wine and gossip.*

---

**That Night -- Callie's Apartment**

"Okay, so *who* comes to a first date with an emotional support ferret?" Nina asked, gesturing wildly with her wine glass.

Callie choked on her drink. "No, he *did not!*"

"He did. His name was Chase. And the ferret's name was... *Justice.*"

Eva laughed so hard she doubled over, cheeks flushed, the stress of the last few weeks cracking at the seams.

It felt *good*.

To laugh. To be seen. To be herself again--even for a moment.

"You're glowing," Callie said, smiling knowingly. "Which either means you're in love or you've started doing drugs."

Eva rolled her eyes. "Neither."

"Sure," Nina smirked. "You're just *radiating sexual tension* from a vitamin deficiency."

"I'm just... figuring things out," Eva said softly. "It's complicated."

Callie's smile faded. "Your parents?"

Eva nodded, the warmth slipping from her expression. "They still call. They're still pretending they own me."

Nina's voice lowered. "You need to be careful."

"I have someone," Eva said before she could stop herself.

There was a pause.

"You mean the *someone*," Callie said gently.

Eva gave them a small, sad smile. "Yeah."

They said nothing. They didn't *have* to.

They just hugged her.

---

**The Next Day -- Off-Campus Café**

She didn't expect to see them.

But there they were--*her parents*--sitting at a corner table, the exact corner they'd always favored for brunch, both dressed in crisp designer layers like they were heading to a photo shoot.

Her mother's smile was immediate. Her father didn't even bother pretending.

"Eva," her mother called, standing. "Come. Sit."

She hesitated at the door.

But she didn't come alone.

Daniel had offered to walk her after class. He stood behind her now, a quiet presence, his hand brushing hers.

"I'll wait across the street," he whispered. "Signal if you need me."

She nodded.

And walked in.

---

"I see you're still dressing down," her mother said, eyes sweeping over her jeans and sweater.

Her father barely glanced up from his phone.

"I didn't know we were doing a formal ambush," Eva replied.

Her mother leaned in. "You've made this *difficult*. Marcus was deeply embarrassed. You owe him an apology."

"I don't owe him *anything,*" Eva snapped.

Her father finally looked up. "You're not going to live off favors forever, Eva. That man you're staying with--do you think that's going to end well for you?"

Eva's heart pounded.

"You have no idea what I've been through," she whispered. "You didn't even know I was sick."

Her mother sighed dramatically. "You're always sick. Always sensitive. Always *making drama.*"

"I got hit by *you,*" Eva said through gritted teeth. "You *slapped* me in a restaurant. And you still want me to smile and be the good little daughter."

Her father stood, voice sharp. "You don't get to talk to us like that."

"I don't *owe* you anything," she said, trembling. "And I'm done pretending you care."

She turned to leave.

"Eva--if you walk out, don't come back," her mother called.

"I wasn't going to," she whispered.

---

Outside, Daniel was already crossing the street.

She barely made it to him before her knees buckled.

He caught her.

Held her.

She pressed her face to his chest, her breath hitching in sharp, panicked gasps.

"Hey," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. "I've got you. Let it out."

She gripped his coat like it was the only thing anchoring her.

"I don't have anyone else," she said, broken. "I'm scared."

"You have *me,*" he said, kissing the top of her head. "You *always* have me."

She looked up at him, eyes wet. "What if I ruin you?"

"You already have," he said with a small smile. "And I'm not going anywhere."

---

**Chapter Thirty-One: What's Mine**

The punishment came quietly.

No screaming. No threats.

Just an email from her mother's assistant:

> *Effective immediately, all access to the Laurent family accounts has been revoked. Best of luck with your academic future.*

That was it.

No "love, Mom." No phone call. Not even a cold explanation.

Eva stared at the screen for a long time before closing the laptop.

---

**Two Days Later -- On Campus**

"Table eight needs water. And don't let the guy at nine flirt you into giving away cake again."

Eva gave her manager a weak salute and adjusted her apron.

The café wasn't glamorous, but it paid. And it was across from campus. The regular tips helped. Plus... it kept her distracted. Moving. Breathing.

Until Daniel walked in.

He didn't expect to see her behind the counter, hair tied up, pink flushed across her cheeks, a short black skirt that made his jaw clench.

He froze.

And then he saw them--*the men*. The students and suits and professors who watched her like she was the only thing that tasted sweet in their bitter lives. The way their eyes lingered. The way some leaned a little too far when she brought them coffee.

Something cold settled in his stomach.

Possessiveness. Rage.

Need.

---

**That Night -- His Apartment**

She knocked softly on his door, her shift finally over. He opened it fast, his jaw tight.

"I told you not to come by tonight," he said, even as he stepped back to let her in.

She gave him a look. "Why? Because you're mad I got a job?"

He shut the door a little harder than necessary. "No. I'm mad because I walked into a room full of men undressing you with their eyes. And you just smiled like it didn't matter."

Her eyes narrowed. "What did you want me to do, Daniel? Quit? Starve?"

"I wanted you to tell me," he snapped. "Let *me* help you."

"I'm not a charity case."

He stepped toward her, hands clenched at his sides. "You're not. You're mine."

Her breath caught.

She should've been angry. But the way he said it--low, rough, *certain*--lit something hot under her skin.

"You didn't act like I was yours earlier," she said, backing toward the bedroom. "You stood there. Said nothing."

"I was trying not to drag you out in front of everyone," he growled, following.

"Maybe I *wanted* you to."

He shut the door behind them and in two strides, he was there, grabbing her waist, pulling her up into his arms like he couldn't bear another inch of distance.

His mouth crushed hers.

The kiss was fierce, messy, *hungry*.

"Take it out on me," she whispered against his lips, breathless. "You want to show me I'm yours? Do it."

---

He did.

Not out of anger--but out of need.

Out of a bone-deep hunger to remind her she wasn't alone anymore. That she was *wanted*. Not for what she looked like. Not for her name. But for everything she was beneath the shield.

He stripped her with shaking hands, kissed her collarbone like it was sacred, worshipped her with both fury and reverence.

And when he finally entered her--deep, hard, slow--she wrapped her legs around him and whispered in his ear:

"I want them to *see* it, Daniel. That I'm not theirs. I never was."

He growled low, pushing deeper. "You're *mine,* Eva. Mine."

She kissed him harder.

And when they collapsed, sweaty and trembling, tangled together in the sheets, she whispered, "I don't need their money. I just need *you.*"

He kissed her forehead. "Then you'll never go without again."

---

**Chapter Thirty-Two: The Door That Shouldn't Have Opened**

The apartment was silent when Sophie pushed the door open with her hip, her hands full of takeout bags and a bottle of wine under her arm.

She hadn't told Daniel she was coming home early.

She wanted it to be a surprise--wanted to *fix things*. They had drifted too far apart, and after speaking to her sister and realizing she missed the man she married, she decided to try.

*Try*.

But the moment she stepped inside, the silence broke.

It wasn't the soft hum of music. Or the TV.

It was a sound she hadn't heard in a long time.

A woman's moan. Raw. Desperate.

Followed by a name--her husband's name.

"... Daniel..."

She froze.

The takeout bags slid from her hands and hit the floor with a dull thud.

More sounds. A rhythm she didn't want to recognize. The soft thud of the headboard against the wall. Breathless pleas. Then a broken sob.

"Only I can make you feel like this... only *me,*" a girl cried. "Tell me we're real. Tell me I'm not just a secret."

Daniel's voice came next, low and ruined. "You're not a secret. We're together. We *are.*"

Sophie didn't scream.

She didn't cry.

She turned silently and walked toward the kitchen.

---

**In the Bedroom**

They didn't hear the door.

Didn't hear the bags drop.

Daniel was inside Eva, her legs locked tight around his waist, their bodies slick with sweat. She clung to him like she was afraid he'd vanish.

He kissed her like he couldn't breathe without her.

"Say it again," she begged, lips trembling.

"We're together," he whispered against her mouth. "You're mine. I'm yours."

Eva cried softly. "We're forever. Right?"

"Yes."

Then--

A sound.

A *familiar* sound.

Footsteps. Too light to be his. Too sure to be anyone else.

Daniel's body went rigid.

Eva stilled beneath him.

"Oh my God..." she whispered, panic flooding her face.

They scrambled.

Sheets. Shirts. Silence.

But it was too late.

---

**In the Kitchen**

Sophie stood calmly at the counter, her back to them. She poured herself a glass of wine. Took a slow sip. Another.

The takeout sat untouched on the floor.

Daniel entered first, shirt wrinkled, face pale, hands twitching like they didn't know where to go. Eva trailed behind, her sweater half-buttoned, her eyes wide and filled with shame.

"Sophie..." Daniel began.

She turned.

Her expression was unreadable.

"How long?" she asked simply.

Daniel opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Eva stepped forward, softly. "It wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't plan it."

"That's comforting," Sophie said dryly. She turned her gaze on Daniel. "You told me you were just helping her. That she was broken. That you pitied her."

His throat tightened. "It changed."

"No," Sophie said, voice quiet but sharp. "*You* changed."

She set the glass down gently.

"I want the truth. One time. From *you,* Daniel. Not from the girl in your student file. Not from the girl you *let* into this house while I was at work."

Daniel's voice broke. "I fell in love with her."

The silence was deafening.

Eva looked at him like he'd just set fire to the world for her.

Sophie just nodded slowly.

And left the room.

Not yelling.

Not crying.

Just... left.

---

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Ashes and After**

The fallout came fast.

Whispers turned into emails. Emails turned into meetings. And within three days, Daniel Langston was no longer employed by the university.

The official statement used all the right language--*ethics*, *student-professor boundaries*, *institutional integrity*--but the truth spread faster than the press release. The professor had fallen for a student. A young, beautiful one.

And he had been caught.

His wife, Sophie, had made sure of that.

She didn't destroy him publicly. She didn't need to. A few quiet phone calls to the right people--friends on the board, former colleagues, department heads--and everything else took care of itself.

Daniel didn't fight it.

He signed the forms. He cleared out his office. He walked out of the building for the last time carrying a box with more shame than belongings inside.

Eva waited outside, sitting on the edge of a bench with her hands balled in her lap.

She stood when she saw him.

And didn't say a word.

She just took the box from him and held it like it weighed nothing.

---

**One Week Later -- His New Apartment**

It was small.

Two rooms. Second floor. The kind of place with no central heat, slightly uneven floors, and a window that wouldn't close all the way.

Daniel had never lived like this--not since grad school.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, which still smelled like cardboard and plastic, and stared at the cracks on the wall.

Eva made tea in the kitchen.

They didn't have a table yet, so they sat on the floor with their backs against the couch.

"I should've stopped it," he said quietly. "Back then. I knew better."

Eva shook her head. "You fell in love. That's not a crime."

"It destroyed everything."

"No," she said. "It exposed everything."

He looked at her.

"I saw the way you lived, Daniel. Like you were halfway asleep all the time. With Sophie. With your job. With *yourself.*" She sipped her tea. "You're not destroyed. You're just free. It hurts, but it's real."

He stared down at his hands. "You really believe that?"

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I believe in *you.*"

---

**Late Night -- Same Apartment**

The first night she stayed, she didn't sleep much.

Neither did he.

They lay in bed, back to back at first, the silence fragile.

Then Eva rolled over, placed a hand on his chest.

He covered it with his own.

"What happens now?" she whispered.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't have a plan. I've always had a plan."

"Then let's make one," she said.

She talked about art school in Florence--how she'd always wanted to go. He talked about writing again. He hadn't done it since before marriage. Before responsibility. Before forgetting who he was.

They talked for hours.

About childhoods. Regrets. The people they pretended to be.

When they fell asleep, it was in each other's arms.

No sex. No tension.

Just peace.

---

**Two Weeks Later -- Cold Morning**

The heating still didn't work properly.

Eva shuffled around the kitchen in socks, trying to cook breakfast on the uneven stove.

Daniel sat at the counter with a blanket around his shoulders, watching her.

"I've been thinking," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "About?"

"About how everything I lost... led me to this. This morning. You."

She smiled faintly. "Do you regret it?"

"Losing my job? My reputation? My marriage?" He paused. "Not if it means I get to keep *you.*"

She walked over, slid into his lap, and kissed his forehead.

"Then let's build something better," she said. "From scratch. No lies. No hiding."

"No pretending."

"Just *us.*"

---

**Chapter Thirty-Four: New Light**

Spring came slowly.

One stubborn bloom at a time. A jacket discarded in the morning, a window left open overnight. The kind of quiet warmth that felt like a promise.

And for the first time in months, Daniel began to believe in promises again.

---

**Rebuilding**

It started small.

A freelance editing job. Then a guest lecture at a nearby college--nothing glamorous, but his name still carried weight. He was cautious, careful. But something was different now. He didn't wear a mask anymore.

Eva was part of everything.

She proofread his proposals, helped him prep his lectures, even built him a simple website to start offering writing workshops online.

"Looks good," she said, leaning over his shoulder one morning.

"You made it."

"Exactly. That's why it looks good."

He smiled. "We make a good team."

She kissed his temple. "We're not a team. We're a *force.*"

---

**The Party**

"You know this was a *terrible* idea, right?" Daniel muttered as he set up the drink table.

Eva arranged fairy lights on the balcony. "Come on, it's not *that* many people."

"You invited your *entire friend group.*"

"They're your friends too now."

"You bribed them with wine and cookies, didn't you?"

She gave him a guilty smile. "I may have mentioned brownies."

---

The apartment was buzzing within an hour.

Callie brought a speaker and played music too loud. Nina cornered Daniel to interrogate him about his "tragic romantic antihero arc." Eva floated between guests in a soft blue dress, glowing in a way that made Daniel's heart ache.

At one point, he caught her dancing with Callie in the living room, laughing, her hair loose, her eyes sparkling.

And then she caught him watching.

She smirked and mouthed: *Mine.*

---

**Drama Comes Knocking**

They were in the kitchen--Daniel fixing drinks, Eva perched on the counter, their knees brushing--when the doorbell rang.

Daniel froze.

Eva slid down and opened it.

Her mother stood in a silk coat, her father beside her. Both stiff, cold, elegant.

"Eva," her mother said. "We need to talk. Now."

A hush fell over the room as people realized who stood in the doorway.

Daniel appeared behind Eva, protective and calm.

Her father's gaze sharpened. "Still playing house with your professor?"

"I'm *building* a life with him," Eva said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Her mother's mouth tightened. "You can still come home. If you drop this... *situation.*"

Eva stepped forward. "I *am* home. And if you can't accept that, you don't get to be part of it."

"Eva--" her father warned.

But Daniel gently wrapped his arm around her waist. "She's not a child you can order around anymore."

Her mother's nostrils flared.

"Goodbye," Eva said softly, and shut the door.

Callie handed her a drink without a word.

The party resumed like nothing had happened--but the energy had changed. It was brighter. Fiercer.

So was she.

---

**That Night -- Just Them**

The last guests had gone. The apartment was quiet again, littered with empty glasses and half-melted candles.

Daniel stood on the balcony, looking out over the lights of the city.

Eva wrapped her arms around him from behind. "So?"

He turned. "So?"

"Still think the party was a bad idea?"

He smiled. "It wasn't the worst."

"Mm-hmm."

He looked at her. Really looked.

The woman who had given up wealth and comfort to stay beside him. Who had seen him at his lowest and still reached for his hand.

"You saved me," he murmured.

She stepped closer. "You let me."

And then he kissed her.

Not cautious. Not hidden.

A kiss that said *this is real.* That they'd earned every scar and every step forward.

That they weren't just surviving anymore.

They were *living.*

Together.

---

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Love, the Hard Way**

The lights were low.

The party was long over, the dishes stacked in the sink, their world quiet for the first time in hours.

Eva stood in the center of their small bedroom, still in that blue dress, barefoot now, her makeup smudged just slightly -- soft around the edges. Daniel leaned in the doorway, watching her as if he'd never seen her before.

"You're staring," she said gently.

"I'm allowed," he said, voice low. "You're mine."

She smiled and walked toward him, sliding her hands beneath his shirt.

"You know," she whispered, "we never really... *made love*."

He arched a brow. "Is that what you want tonight?"

"I think so," she said. "But I don't trust us to stay gentle."

He chuckled. "Let's try anyway."

---

They started slow.

He undressed her like she was a gift, unzipping her dress, kissing her shoulders, taking his time. She helped him out of his shirt, then undid his jeans, inch by inch, her eyes never leaving his.

When he laid her down, he took his time -- kissing her inner thighs, her belly, the undersides of her breasts. She trembled beneath him, sighing his name softly.

He slid inside her with a groan, holding himself still as her legs wrapped around his waist.

"I love you," she whispered, voice already breaking.

Daniel's heart clenched.

"I love you too."

He kissed her deeply, moved slowly--

--for exactly twenty seconds.

Until she arched up, clung to his back, and moaned, "*Harder. Please. I need it.*"

And he gave up.

---

The rhythm changed fast.

His thrusts became deeper, harder -- sharp sounds of skin meeting skin echoing in the room. She gasped, pulling him in again and again, her nails scratching down his spine.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled into her ear.

"Yes--*yes*--Daniel--*don't stop!*"

He kissed her hard, muffling her cries, his hips pounding into her as her body clenched around him, her first orgasm hitting like a shockwave. She didn't even have time to come down before he flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, and slammed back inside.

She *screamed* into the pillow.

He reached around, rubbing her clit in fast, tight circles.

"*Come for me again,*" he demanded.

She broke -- her legs shaking, her back arching, her voice raw with a second orgasm that made her collapse into the sheets.

Daniel wasn't done.

He turned her again, kissed her like he needed it to breathe, and slid back in slow and deep. Her body clenched again instantly -- so sensitive, so overwhelmed.

"You're not done," he growled. "One more."

She could barely form words. "I--I can't--"

"You *will.*"

And with that, he rolled his hips in a perfect rhythm -- hard and deep and relentless.

She lost it.

Her third orgasm tore through her with a scream, and he barely held on as her walls pulsed around him.

He pulled out just in time, moaning her name as he came in thick spurts across her trembling stomach, both of them breathless and wrecked.

---

They collapsed side by side, sweaty and spent, staring at the ceiling in silence.

"Was that..." she panted, "... making love?"

Daniel turned his head. "It was *our* version."

"Messy. Loud. Kind of violent."

He grinned. "Romantic, in a borderline criminal kind of way."

She giggled, turning toward him. "We suck at gentle."

"Correction: we *tried*. We failed. But I came very hard, so I'm still calling it a win."

"Same," she laughed, cuddling into his chest. "Let's never be normal."

He kissed her forehead. "Deal."

---

**Epilogue -- One Year Later: The Freaks Who Made It**

The new house wasn't big.

But it was *theirs*.

White walls, wooden floors, a tiny backyard full of wildflowers Eva planted herself, and a kitchen that Daniel finally admitted made him feel like an actual adult. They weren't rich. They weren't famous.

But they were okay.

Better than okay.

They were *happy.*

---

Eva danced barefoot through the living room with a paintbrush in one hand and a coffee mug in the other, humming off-key while Daniel worked at the table, editing a manuscript from his newest writing client.

She looked good.

She always did.

Hair up in a messy bun, a paint smudge on her cheek, wearing one of his old shirts with absolutely *nothing* underneath.

He couldn't focus.

He watched her for a full minute before she caught him and smiled smugly.

"Working hard, Professor?"

He raised a brow. "You're not even wearing underwear. This is sabotage."

"I like to keep you... motivated."

"You're about to motivate me right into the shower."

---

**Five Minutes Later -- In the Shower**

The water was hot. Steam filled the glass walls. His hands were on her waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she was laughing into his mouth between kisses.

They never *really* learned how to take it slow.

She was up on her toes, his cock buried deep inside her, her back against the warm tile, water cascading down their slick, slippery skin.

"God," she gasped, clutching his shoulders. "Don't stop--Daniel--*don't stop!*"

"I wasn't planning to," he growled, thrusting up into her, watching her eyes roll back with every stroke.

She was soaked--not just from the water.

He angled his hips just right, grinding into her, and her whole body jerked.

Something was happening.

"D-Daniel--something's--oh *my God!*"

She screamed as she came--*hard*--and *squirted* all over him, the glass, the tile.

Everything.

They both froze.

She blinked, breathless. "Did I just--*was that--*"

Daniel stared at her, stunned for one second before bursting into a huge grin.

"*Hell yes,* you did."

"Oh my God," she breathed, flushed all over. "I didn't even know I could--"

"Well," he said proudly, "add that to the list of things I'm ridiculously good at."

She started laughing, hands covering her face. "We are not normal."

"Nope."

"We're freaks."

"Sexy, unreasonably compatible freaks."

She grinned up at him, still trembling a little. "Promise me we never get boring."

He kissed her hard, laughing into her mouth.

"Not a fucking chance."

---

**THE END** ????