Bella
This budge was straining, hot, and unmistakable, as if the sight of me in this dress, backed against him, had snapped something inside his control.
My eyes flew wide.
A rush of heat slammed through me, my face burning, chest tight, a shameful throb blooming low between my thighs even as panic clawed at my throat.
He didn’t move his hands. His fingers flexed, just once, digging lightly into my hips like he was anchoring himself.
The hallway stayed deathly silent. No footsteps. No one coming. It was just the four of us frozen: me sandwiched between my boyfriend (still holding the door open, face paling) and the professor who’d ruined my future, some curvy stranger watching from inside, and the hidden camera silently capturing every heartbeat, every breath, every inch of contact.
