The Billionaire Professor's Captive

DAYDREAMING

Meredith

I buried myself in my laptop the second I got back to my dorm. Skye walked in at some point, took one look at me hunched over my desk, and whistled. "Wow. You look like you’re trying to hack into the Pentagon."

I didn’t look up. "Not the Pentagon. Just my professor’s soul."

She snorted. "So, you were humiliated."

"I wasn’t humiliated," I muttered. "I was… unprepared."

"Uh-huh. And now you’re preparing like your life depends on it."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I just… I don’t want to be caught off guard again."

Skye flopped onto her bed, scrolling through her phone. "You know, most people don’t turn into Terminators over a single awkward moment."

"I’m not most people."

"Clearly."

I ignored her and kept reading. By the time the next class rolled around, I was ready.

The lecture hall buzzed with conversation as students filed in. I took my seat, opening my laptop, my fingers poised over the keyboard. I wasn’t nervous this time. I was waiting.

Ava was already in her seat, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, her eyes flicking toward Sherwood like she was waiting for him to notice her.

I smirked.

Then, right on time, Sherwood walked in.

Same calm presence, same effortless command of the room. He didn’t rush, didn’t fumble. He just… existed in a way that made everyone else seem slightly less important.

"Let’s begin."

His voice carried through the room, smooth and even. He started the lecture immediately, launching into security protocols, not wasting a single word.

I followed along, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I typed my notes. And then—

"Miss Keeler."

I inhaled slowly. This time, when I lifted my gaze, I wasn’t caught off guard.

Sherwood’s expression was unreadable, his dark green eyes steady. Testing me.

"What’s the primary function of hashing in encryption?"

I didn’t hesitate.

"Hashing is used to ensure data integrity by converting input into a fixed-length string, making it nearly impossible to reverse-engineer the original data."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Correct."

His tone didn’t change. His face didn’t change. No reaction. Just fact. And yet, something passed between us.

Something small, subtle, barely noticeable—but it was there. Like he had already known I wouldn’t mess up again. And then he moved on. Just like that. Like nothing had happened.

I exhaled slowly, fingers hovering over my keyboard, still trying to process the shift in the air.

Because I wasn’t sure what just happened. I just knew it wasn’t nothing. I knew it before he said anything.

It was in the way his eyes flicked toward me as he packed up his notes. The way he moved a fraction slower, like he was waiting for something.

For me.

The other students shuffled out, their voices fading into the hallway, but I stayed in my seat, fingers curled around the edge of my desk.

"Miss Keeler."

My chest tightened. His voice was like warm chocolate.

I swallowed and stood, forcing my feet to move forward. One step. Then another.

The room felt too big, too empty, too quiet.

By the time I reached his desk, he had finished closing his laptop. He didn’t look at me right away. Instead, he adjusted his watch. A slow, careful movement.

Like he had all the time in the world. I didn’t.

My pulse was already too fast, my breath too shallow. Finally, he looked up. And everything in me locked up. Because it was different now.

Without the barrier of a full classroom, without the distraction of dozens of other students, I felt the full weight of his presence.

He wasn’t just Professor Sherwood.

He was Earl.

The same man I had sat next to in a darkened club. The same man whose voice had slid down my spine like silk. The same man I had been too damn aware of ever since.

I knew what he looked like up close now.

Knew how his jaw tightened when he was thinking, how his fingers tapped lightly against surfaces when he was restless.

Knew that his scent wasn’t just something I imagined. That rich mix of spice and something clean, like expensive cologne and warm skin. And worst of all, I knew what he looked like when he was watching me. Like he was doing right now.

Like he was studying me, unraveling me, figuring out exactly how I worked.

I forced myself to stand straighter. "You called me, Professor?"

His gaze lingered for a second too long. Then, finally, he leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. His sleeves were still rolled up. I hated that I noticed.

"You handled that question well today."

My breath caught. That was… not what I was expecting.

I blinked, my mind scrambling. "Oh. Um. Thanks."

He hummed, watching me. "You froze last class."

Heat prickled up my spine. "I… wasn’t expecting to be called on."

He tilted his head slightly. "And today?"

I hesitated.

"Today, you expected it."

It wasn’t a question. I swallowed. "Maybe."

His expression didn’t change, but something about him shifted.

For a second, I had the strangest feeling that he had done it on purpose. That he had called on me again just to see if I would crack. If I would fold under the pressure. But I didn’t.

And somehow, I knew that he wasn’t surprised.

I exhaled slowly. "Is that why you asked me to stay behind? To tell me I answered correctly?"

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his gaze dragged over my face. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

"No."

My body tensed. He watched me for another long second, then reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file. I blinked as he slid it toward me.

"I want you to consider entering the Cybersecurity Research Initiative."

My brain stalled.

I looked at the folder, then back at him. "What?"

"The CRI," he said evenly. "It’s an advanced research project focused on penetration testing, security vulnerabilities, and data encryption. It’s selective, but you have potential."

Potential. The word shouldn’t have sent a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed. "I didn’t apply for this."

His brow lifted slightly. "No. I recommended you."

My breath hitched. I wasn’t sure what shocked me more, the fact that he thought I was good enough for this, or the fact that he had done something on my behalf.

For a second, I didn’t know what to say.

Then I narrowed my eyes. "And why would you do that?"

"Do you not want the opportunity?"

I hated that he answered my question with another question. I hated that he could see how flustered I was. And I really, really hated the way my pulse skipped when he held my gaze just a little too long. I inhaled sharply, snatching the file off the desk. "I’ll think about it."

His smirk barely deepened. "Good."

I turned to leave. But before I reached the door, his voice cut through the air.

"Next time, Miss Keeler, if you’re going to daydream in class…"

I froze. Every muscle in my body went rigid. Slowly, I turned my head, but I couldn’t look at him. I stared at the wall. At the floor. Anywhere but at him.His voice was lighter this time. Almost… amused.

"At least make sure you can answer the question when I call on you."

The air turned electric. Oh. My. God. I barely managed to keep my expression neutral as I walked out, my pulse hammering. But the moment the door shut behind me, my fingers tightened around the folder.

I was in trouble.

Big, big trouble.

And I didn’t know if I hated it. Or if I liked it way too much. I spent the rest of the day pretending that nothing had happened. That my professor—my professor—hadn’t hinted that he knew exactly what was going on inside my head.

I forced myself to focus. I buried myself in my laptop, studied for my other classes, even ignored Skye when she asked why I looked like I had been electrocuted.

I told myself it was over. I had won. I had kept my composure, walked out with my dignity intact.

And that was that. Right?

Wrong.

Because the universe was cruel.

And Professor Earl Sherwood wasn’t done with me yet.

The next morning, I walked into my Software Security lecture feeling normal. Or as normal as I could feel after having my entire nervous system fried the day before. I took my seat, opened my laptop, ignored Ava when she walked past me like she had just stepped off a runway.

Everything was fine. And then—

"Before we begin, I have an announcement." Sherwood’s voice was smooth, even. Calm. "As some of you may already know, our university is hosting this year’s Cybersecurity Research Initiative."

Students started murmuring, exchanging glances. I froze.

"For those unfamiliar, the CRI is an advanced research project focused on penetration testing, security vulnerabilities, and data encryption. Participation is limited to a select few."

A slow, creeping sensation crawled up my spine. No. No, he wouldn’t.

"I’ve reviewed applications, as well as hand-selected students I believe show potential."

My fingers curled around the edge of my desk. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

"One of those students is Miss Keeler."

Oh, for f—

The entire room turned to look at me. I felt heat rise up my neck, my pulse hammering. Some people looked impressed. Others just seemed curious.

Ava? She looked pissed. Sherwood, on the other hand? Completely unbothered.

He continued, as if he hadn’t just painted a target on my back.

"The first phase will involve individual research. The second will require working closely with a faculty mentor."

He glanced at his laptop, scrolling through something.

"I’ll be overseeing your progress directly, Miss Keeler."

My brain short-circuited. For a moment, I thought I had misheard. Then, slowly, painfully, I lifted my gaze. Sherwood wasn’t looking at me. Not directly. But I felt it.

Felt the weight of his attention, the way he delivered those words so smoothly, so effortlessly.

Like it wasn’t a death sentence. Like he wasn’t fully aware of what he had just done. I swallowed hard, forcing my expression to stay blank. This was fine. It was just an academic project.

It wasn’t like it meant anything.

So why the hell was my heart still pounding?

I tried not to think about it for the rest of the day.

Really, I did. But my brain had other ideas.

Because somehow, between reading through the research brief and organizing my notes, I found myself picturing things that had absolutely nothing to do with cybersecurity.

Like his voice, commanding and rough, growling in my ear. I could picture an image of him grabbing my hair and calling me a good girl while I knelt between his legs, tasting him, memorising the warmth of his skin.

Like the way he had leaned forward on his desk when he spoke to me. Like the way his sleeves always seemed to be rolled up, the veins in his forearms just visible enough to be distracting.

And worst of all? I imagined him closer. Not sitting behind a desk. Not standing at the front of a lecture hall. Close.

The kind of close that would let me feel his breath against my skin. The kind of close that would make it impossible to ignore just how tall he really was.

I blinked hard, mortified.

This was bad.

Really, really bad.

I slammed my laptop shut and shoved it away from me, pressing my palms against my face. I needed to stop.

I needed to get a grip.

Because the first official CRI meeting was tomorrow.

And if I couldn’t get my head on straight before then?

I was completely, unquestionably screwed.