Chapter 3: The Velvet Trap
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Chapter 3: The Velvet Trap
The private elevator opened into the penthouse. Maya stepped out, feeling like she was entering a lion’s den.
The space was huge and dim, with a heavy, academic feel. Rain streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Blackwood campus. The air smelled of sandalwood, expensive scotch, and the sharp scent of an approaching storm.
One wall stopped her cold. It was a massive corkboard covered in red string, crime scene photos, and student profiles. It looked like the work of a detective—or a serial killer.
Professor Sterling stood before the board, pouring two glasses of scotch. He had removed his jacket and loosened his tie.
"You're staring at the board, Maya," he rumbled. He handed her a glass. "Drink. You look like you're about to bolt."
Maya took the glass. Their fingers brushed, and she felt a spark. "I'm in the home of a man who knows where the bodies are buried, Professor. Forgive me if I'm jumpy."
"Alistair," he corrected softly. "Use my name in my home. As for the bodies... I'm trying to stop the person making them. To do that, you have to trust me."
He stepped closer. The tension was physical. Maya’s mind warned her that this man was a predator, but her body didn't listen. Her heart hammered.
"Your pupils are dilated," Sterling murmured, his gaze drifting over her. "Your breathing is shallow. Fight or flight, Maya. Which is it?"
"I... I don't know," she whispered.
"Let's test a hypothesis."
He set her glass on a table and cupped her face. His touch was gentle, contrasting with his ruthless reputation.
"You spend every day hiding," he whispered. "Hiding your mind from other students. Hiding your body because you think the world doesn't deserve it."
In one move, he pulled her oversized cardigan off her shoulders. Maya stood in her black camisole and jeans, instinctively crossing her arms.
Sterling’s jaw tightened. He firmly pinned her wrists to her sides. "Don't hide from me," he commanded. "Never hide from me."
He stepped in close and pulled her camisole over her head. Maya gasped, exposed to the cool air. She wasn't wearing a bra. She closed her eyes, expecting the judgment she usually saw from men on campus.
"Open your eyes, Maya," he ordered.
She did. He wasn't disgusted; he looked at her with raw reverence.
"God, you are breathtaking," he breathed. He dropped to his knees and gripped her thighs, pressing his face against her stomach. "They teach us about symmetry in art, but not about the weight of a woman who actually takes up space. You are soft. Perfectly built."
He lifted her effortlessly. Maya wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to a large leather sofa. He laid her back and stripped off his own shirt. He didn't rush. He spent time exploring every curve she had spent years trying to hide.
"Mine," he growled, gripping her hips. "Every single inch of you is mine."
As he kissed her, Maya arched off the leather. His touch drew desperate cries from her.
"Tell me how it feels, Maya," he demanded. "Tell your Professor how good it feels to be worshipped."
"It feels... Alistair, please," she sobbed. "I'm so close..."
"That's my girl," he purred. "Let go for me. Just shatter."
The climax was blinding. Maya cried out his name, feeling entirely undone. For the first time, someone desired her exactly as she was.
Sterling held her through the aftershocks. He eventually pulled away and tucked a cashmere throw around her.
"I need to wash the scent of the precinct off me," he said, kissing her temple. "Stay right there. Don't move."
Maya watched him walk toward the bathroom. As the shower started, she lay there processing what had happened. She had just slept with her professor, and she wanted to do it again.
Then, her phone buzzed.
She reached for the device. A message from an unknown number read:
"He’s playing with you, Maya. Check the bottom drawer of his mahogany desk. See what he really thinks of you."
Maya’s blood turned to ice. The pleasure of the last hour vanished.
She looked across the room. In the shadows, beneath the murder board, sat Sterling’s desk. The shower was still running.
Heart pounding, Maya stood up and walked silently across the floor toward the desk.
- Writer
