PROFESSOR SIN

YOU ARE MINE NOW

AMARA POV

The music was too loud, the lights too bright, yet all I felt was him.

His body pressed close enough to remind me of who he was, but not enough to claim me, not yet. His hand that had brushed mine before was now firmer, steadying me as if he could sense I might fall, not just from the alcohol but from the way my knees weakened at his nearness.

I tilted my head back, blinking through my drowsy haze, and whispered, “Professor Sin?” My voice cracked between disbelief and longing.

He leaned closer, his breath fanning my ear, warm and sharp, sending shivers down my neck. “What are you doing here, Amara?” His tone was low, dangerous, like velvet covering a blade.

I should have pulled away. I should have remembered my mother’s warnings, Nina’s sneers, the way I was already drowning in chaos at home. But instead, I swayed against him, leaning closer, caught between the pulsing bass of the club and the steady thrum of his presence.

“I wanted to forget,” I murmured, my words clumsy from drink.

He chuckled, but it wasn’t kind. It was dark, edged with disapproval. “And you thought this,his fingers brushed the hem of my tiny dress, making me gasp as fire sparked across my skin, “was the answer?”

I froze, breath caught in my throat. His touch wasn’t indecent, not fully, but it was enough to make every nerve in my body scream awake. My thighs clenched, a wetness pooling inside me that I had never felt this strong before.

“I…” My voice failed me.

He tilted my chin upward with two fingers, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were sharper here, away from the classroom, more sinful, more real. “Do you know what you’re doing, Amara?”

“I don’t care,” I whispered, the words falling out before I could stop them.

His jaw tightened, his body towering over me like a wall I couldn’t escape from, even if I wanted to. Around us, people danced, laughed, drank, but it was like the world had vanished, leaving only me and him in this corner of shadows.

“You should care,” he muttered, and his fingers traced along my jawline, down to the hollow of my throat. My pulse hammered so loud I swore he could feel it beneath his touch. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with them.” His eyes flicked to the crowd, then back to me. “But you keep testing me, don’t you?”

My lips parted, but no words came. His touch burned through me, restrained yet deliberate, as if he wanted me to remember every inch of where his fingers had been.

When his hand slid from my chin to hover just at the curve of my waist, I shivered. “Professor…”

The way the word fell off my tongue sounded nothing like school. Nothing like innocence.

Something flickered in his eyes, something raw. He leaned closer, his lips so close to mine that if I moved even a fraction, they’d meet. “If you knew the things I think about when you say that…” His whisper trailed off, hot against my mouth.

My breath hitched. Heat swarmed through my body, every inch aching for him to close the distance.

But then, as if he read my mind, he pulled back suddenly. His grip on my waist tightened just enough to steady me, but his gaze turned cold. “You’re drunk. This isn’t happening.”

The rejection stung sharper than I expected. “Why?” The word slipped out, fragile.

“Because,” he said, his voice rough, “you have no idea what you’re asking for.”

And before I could argue, he dragged me away from the dance floor. People glanced at us, but no one stopped him. No one ever stopped him. He had that presence, commanding, untouchable.

Outside, the air was cooler, sobering me a little. He guided me to his car, opening the door with a sigh that sounded more like frustration than pity.

“Get in.”

I obeyed, sliding into the leather seat, my heart still racing. He closed the door behind me and went around to the driver’s side. When he sat down, the silence was heavier than the music had been inside.

We didn’t move. Not at first. He gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for me again.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” he finally asked, his voice low but fierce.

“Because nothing makes sense anymore,” I said, my throat tight. “At home, I’m the villain. Nina plays the angel, and I’m the monster. My mom believes her. Everyone sees me as the problem. But with you…” I trailed off, unsure if I had gone too far.

His hands tightened on the wheel. “With me?”

I swallowed hard. “With you, I feel.. like I can breathe.”

The air shifted. I felt his eyes on me, burning, searching. For a moment, I thought he’d reach for me again. My body leaned toward him without permission, desperate for more of his touch, his warmth, his sin.

But he only exhaled sharply, starting the engine. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Amara.”

“Why not?”

“Because one day,” he muttered, pulling onto the road, “I might not be able to stop myself.”

The car ride was silent after that, but inside me everything screamed. Every second, I replayed the ghost of his touch, the heat of his breath on my skin, the words he’d left hanging in the air.

When we reached my street, he parked a few houses away. “Go inside quietly. Don’t let anyone see you like this.”

I nodded, fumbling with the handle, but before I could step out, his hand shot out and caught my wrist.

I froze.

He leaned closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. His voice dropped to a whisper that wrapped around my soul. “You don’t know it yet, Amara, but you’re playing with fire. And fire always burns.”

Then he let go. Just like that.

I stumbled out, my legs weak, sneaking back into my room through the window. My heart was still pounding as I collapsed on the bed, dress still clinging to me, his touch still lingering like a brand on my skin.

Sleep didn’t come easy. When it did, it was filled with him..his hands, his voice, his almost-kiss.

And when I finally woke, sunlight streaming into my room, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

A message.

From an unknown number.

I blinked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and read the words.

“YOU'RE MINE NOW, MY LITTLE DOVE.

My breath caught. My body shivered. And I knew exactly who it was.