Affair with my professor

Anyways dinner?

“Who is this?”

“It’s Bergman, Mia.”

Relief washed over me for a moment.

“How did you get my number? Pretty sure we never exchanged contacts.”

“You registered in the department with your personal details, didn’t you? How else would I get it?”

I chuckled softly, tapping my nails against the keypad. “You’re right. I’m just a little disoriented this evening.”

“You were fine when I saw you earlier today, anyways dinner?”

Feeling emotionally wrecked, I weighed my options. I really needed someone to talk to.

“Absolutely. Why not? My roommate’s away for the weekend. I’m already in a cab anyway. Where do I meet you?”

“Langham Hotel, Midtown Manhattan.”

“Great. See you there.”

The texting ceased and I asked the driver to turn around.

The moment I walked into the restaurant, the cool air-conditioning wrapped around me, carrying the soft scent of expensive diffusers. It hit my nose in a comforting wave. I instantly knew this was one of those places. Elegant. Quiet. The kind where people whispered over crystal glasses.

I spotted him immediately at the corner window table. His dark hair and pale skin stood out sharply against the black turtleneck he wore, the silver necklace resting just above the collar.

“You look astonishing. Don’t tell me this is all for me.”

His eyes slowly traveled over me as I pulled out my chair and sat down, cheeks warming under his attention.

“No. I wish. It’s a crazy story.”

He reached for the wine bottle and poured a rich red into my glass.

“Hope it’s not too crazy. You look breathtaking.”

I shook my head faintly. “I wish it were true.”

The way he looked at me told me he already sensed something was wrong. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, patient, waiting.

“I was fooled into thinking I belonged somewhere I clearly didn’t.” I laughed bitterly under my breath. “To think I spent a hundred dollars from my allowance on this dress just to look the part.”

I lifted the wine to my lips, taking a long swallow like it might dissolve the embarrassment sitting in my chest.

“Bordeaux?” I asked, glancing at the bottle.

“You know your wines.” He smiled.

I placed the glass down carefully and folded my arms on the table.

“My guardian back home owned a winery,” I admitted.

“Good.” His voice softened. “But you’re clearly upset, Mia. Who hurt you?”

“No one you’d know.” I rolled my eyes sadly.

He reached across the table and took my hand. The warmth of his palm settled something restless inside me.

“You can tell me anything. But first, you need to eat.” He slid the menu toward me. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” I frowned while opening the menu. “I even wasted dinner money on a cab tonight.”

He looked up immediately. “Hope it wasn’t for a boy.” He tilted his head slightly. “Because I would break his legs if you want.”

A small laugh escaped me despite myself.

“No. It was someone I thought could be a friend.”

He nodded thoughtfully before shutting his menu.

“Try the rack of lamb. It’s good here.” He said, then leaned back in his chair.

“And afterward, you can tell me all about it.”

That was how dinner went. I kept everything vague, carefully avoiding names. Somehow, over the next few hours, he made me laugh harder than I had in days. Every joke, every glance, every brush of his attention slowly stitched back together the confidence I’d lost standing outside Zeta’s doorstep.

“You seem lightheaded.” He smiled while trying to take my glass from me. “Maybe we should slow down on the wine.”

I nodded, swallowing the last sip anyway.

“Yeah, my head’s getting heavy.” I glanced at my phone before dropping it back onto the table. “It’s almost nine.”

“Wanna go upstairs?”

I blinked, confused. “Upstairs? What’s upstairs?”

“My suite.” He casually sipped from his glass.

“You live here?” My eyes widened.

He laughed softly. “God, no. I’m staying here temporarily. My place is under renovation.”

“That makes a lot more sense,” I muttered.

As I reached for my purse, he grabbed it first and helped me out of my chair.

I wasn’t drunk. I always knew my limits with alcohol. But I was definitely warm and woozy.

When the elevator doors slid open, we stepped inside together. Luckily, it was empty. I leaned my head against his shoulder without thinking, and his arm immediately came around me. His fingers slowly stroked through my hair, gentle and absentminded. Comforting.

Just before we reached the floor, he turned slightly, guiding me back against the elevator wall. His hand remained tangled in my hair as he moved closer, slowly closing the space between us. Then he kissed me. Soft at first. Careful.

When he pulled away, his eyes searched mine so intensely it stole the breath from my lungs.

“Oberlyn,” I whispered.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, and I melted into him instantly. His mouth moved against mine with slow confidence, he bit my bottom lip before he pulled back once more, resting his forehead against mine.

“Mia,” he murmured.

Before he could say anything else, the elevator doors opened.

Both of us breathed out quiet laughs before making our way down the hall and into the suite.

“Wow.” I slipped my coat from my shoulders while taking in the room. “Just as elegant as the restaurant downstairs.”

“You think?” He chuckled while locking the door behind us.

“Yeah. You can tell a lot about a man from his taste, and so far it’s all good things from you.”

I wandered farther inside, taking in the massive suite.

“This place is huge. It must cost a fortune staying here all week. Didn’t know professors made that much.”

He walked to the minibar and handed me a bottle of water.

“Here.”

I accepted it gratefully, but before I could thank him, he crouched down and gently slipped my heels off my feet.

“Teaching isn’t my only stream of income, Mia.” His hands brushed softly over my ankles. “I enjoy a certain way of life. Hence the hotel.”

A quiet sound escaped my lips at the feeling of his fingers against my skin. I wanted to inquire further but I decided to leave it at that.

“Thanks,” I murmured. “I needed that.”

“If you want, you can change out of those clothes. I brought oversized sweatshirts with me. They should fit you.”

That simple gesture alone nearly melted me.

I disappeared into the walk-in closet, slipping carefully out of my dress before pulling on one of his gray sweatshirts. It hung loosely on me, soft and warm, barely reaching the tops of my thighs.

Comfortable. Dangerous.

I was still adjusting the sleeves when I felt him behind me.

“I didn’t hear you walk in,” I smiled softly, brushing back against him. “But I smelled you.”

His hands slid slowly down my thighs before tracing back up along my waist and torso. Heat spread instantly through me.

I turned around without thinking and rose onto my toes to kiss him again.

At six-foot-one, he towered over me even in bare feet, but he bent easily to meet my mouth, and at five-foot-seven I stretched out to meet him. I was considered tall but he was taller. The kiss deepened almost immediately, hungry in a way the elevator hadn’t allowed. His lips drifted from mine to my neck, kissing slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from me. I could smell his hunger in his kiss and worse I could taste it

I could feel how badly he wanted me. And worse, I wanted him just as much.

He lifted me onto his waist with a clean swift hop like we were in a ballet choreography, my legs instinctively wrapping around him as though we’d done this before. He carried me toward the bed, lowering me carefully against the sheets.

For one suspended second, I caught the look in his eyes. Pure hunger. And instead of fear, all I felt was anticipation.

My body trembled beneath him, aching with a need I hadn’t felt in years. I could never tell if it was the wine warming my bloodstream, or the dopamine rush. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was simply the fact that no one had ever truly touched me the way I wanted to be touched. Not really.

The closest thing to s*x I’d experienced was when I was eighteen with my high school boyfriend, a rushed, disappointing memory of three thrusts and thirty embarrassing seconds before it was over. Technically, a thrust is a thrust, so it counted, at least according to everyone else. But this? This felt entirely different already.

As my skin sank into the expensive sheets and his hands roamed over me with unbearable patience, I realized, with a nervous flutter in my stomach, that this might finally become the kind of experience I had spent years imagining.