TRAPPED IN MY PROFESSOR’S EMBRACE

CHAPTER 3

Chapter 3

My mind was lost in thoughts. I began hearing side talks.

“ Wow… he's so handsome.”

“ I can't believe a man like this exists. Talk more of being a professor. He should be a model or something.”

“ Let's bet on who will get him seduced first”

What is wrong with these girls? I just rolled my eyes at them, totally disgusted.

“Silence everyone.”

That voice, it doesn't sound like the vice principal.

My heart nearly stopped beating. Slowly I looked at the front of the class with one prayer.

“ It can't be him.”

Fuck!

He was tall, dressed sharply, his dark hair slightly tousled like he didn’t care too much but still looked put together. His jawline was sharp, his presence commanding.

I knew that face too well.

It was him.

The man from last night.

My pulse quickened, my palms going clammy.

He picked up the chalk and wrote his name across the board.

Professor Desmond.

That's the name of the man that f****d me crazy last night.

When he turned and scanned the room, our eyes locked.

I wished the ground would open now.

Did he recognize me?

Only for a second. Just a flicker. Then his face smoothed into something calm, professional, unreadable.

“Good morning,” he said evenly. “I’m Professor Desmond. I'll be teaching you physics. That's all you need to know.”

The class stirred, whispering, some girls giggling about how young he looked.

I sat frozen, gripping my pen so hard my knuckles whitened.

“Let’s start with introductions,” he said, moving toward the front row. “I’d like to know all of you.”

One by one, students stood, gave their names, and sat down. I barely heard them. My heartbeat was too loud, thundering in my ears.

Then it was my turn.

I pushed back my chair slowly and stood. “Sienna,” I said. My voice was low, almost shaky.

“Sienna,” he repeated. His tone gave nothing away. “Thank you. Sit down.”

I sank back into my chair, my knees weak.

The lesson began. He wrote neatly on the board, explaining forces and motion. His voice was calm, smooth, confident. The class listened, scribbled notes, and asked questions.

I couldn’t.

All I could hear were fragments of last night. My moans so loud, I begged him to f**k me.

His hand brushing against mine, then resting on my waist. His lips were in my ear. The way I hadn’t stopped him. The way I hadn’t wanted to.

And now here he was. My professor.

I pressed my pen against the page, pretending to write, but the words swam in front of me. I told myself not to look at him again. Not even once.

But halfway through the lesson, I couldn’t help it. My eyes lifted.

And his gaze was already on me.

He didn’t look away immediately. For a moment, it felt like the room had shrunk to just the two of us.

I tore my gaze down, gripping the pen so tight the plastic bent under my fingers.

When I finally dared to glance up again, he had turned back to the board.

“Alright,” he said, breaking me out of my spiraling thoughts. He set the chalk down and faced the class. “Since I want to see where everyone stands, we’ll begin with a quick test.”

Students protested, you can hear them mumbling words at once.

My stomach dropped.

He moved down the rows, placing a paper on each desk. When his hand brushed against mine as he set one in front of me, my breath hitched. He didn’t look at me, just kept walking.

“You have twenty minutes. Do not speak. Begin.”

my sheet stayed blank.

I stared at the first question—something about calculating acceleration—but my mind refused to work. I hadn’t read, hadn’t studied, or paid attention. And even if I had, I couldn’t have focused. Not with him standing at the front of the room, his presence pressing down on me like a weight.

Every time I looked at the paper, I saw his face from last night. His lips. His hands. The way his voice had dipped when he’d said my name.

By the time he called, “Pens down,” I hadn’t written a single word.

The bell rang classes were over. I exhaled the breath I was holding since.

I kept my head down as I rushed through the hallway, I wanted to be home to think of what I have done.

Because I was too busy thinking of reaching home. I bumped into someone.

Her books scattered to the ground.

“Oh my god, watch it!” the girl snapped.

“ I'm so sorry.”

I bent quickly to help, but froze when I saw her face. Blonde hair. A bright smile twisted into something smug.

Bills’ new girlfriend.

She smirked, looking me up and down like I was dirt on her shoe. Then, suddenly, her face crumpled into a mask of pain. She whimpered dramatically. “Ow… my leg. I can’t walk.”

Before I could say a word, a familiar voice shouted.

“Sienna!”

I looked up. Bill was running toward us, panic written all over his face. He dropped to his girlfriend’s side immediately, glaring at me like I was poison.

“What did you do to her?” he barked.

“I…I didn’t, I just—” I tried to explain, my words stumbling.

“You pushed me,” the blonde sniffled, tears she forced into her eyes. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Bills turned on me, fury in his eyes. “You did this on purpose.”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Shut up, Sienna!” His voice cut me off.

I staggered backwards. People gathered around watching as the drama unfolded.

Bills lifted his voice on me

“If you ever try something like this again, I swear I’ll hit you.”

The words slammed into me harder than a slap. He had never spoken to me like that before. Never looked at me with such hatred.

I stood frozen. I watched as he scooped the blonde girl up in his arms, carrying her in a bridal style as she clung to him like some fragile doll. He didn’t even glance back at me. Not once.

I swallowed hard, my eyes stinging with tears. The sight of him lowering her carefully into his car.

He drove off. And I was left standing there, clutching my bag like it was the only thing keeping me from falling.