AMARA’S POV
The professor’s gaze didn’t waver.
It locked on me—steady, unreadable, yet burning with something I couldn’t name.
He leaned closer, the space between us shrinking, his breath brushing against my skin. Heat pooled in my stomach, spreading fast. I tried to mask it, tried to fight the blush creeping up my neck.
But who was I kidding?
I attempted to flip him over, to gain the upper hand again, but his strength made it laughable. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, that infuriating, sinful smirk curled on his lips.
“Still pretending you’re not affected?” he murmured, voice low and teasing.
My heart hammered. “You wish.”
He chuckled under his breath, one hand tracing a slow, maddening path down my neckline. His touch lingered over the thin fabric covering me, stopping just enoug
