MARRIED TO THE COLD PROFESSOR

**Chapter Two: Heat Between the Silence**

**Chapter Two: Heat Between the Silence**

Later that evening, Amara stood under the steaming spray of her apartment shower, forehead resting against the wall. Water scalded her skin—but it couldn’t burn away the memory of his voice.

His hands.

His words.

“You’re still mine.”

> “Liar,” she muttered to herself, voice shaking. But her body betrayed her—n*****s taut, thighs clenched, her breath growing shallow.

A moan escaped her lips.

And she hated herself for it.

She dried off quickly, threw on a silk robe, and poured a glass of red wine. The city lights blinked outside her window, mocking her peace.

Her phone buzzed.

**Unknown Number:** _I shouldn’t have let you leave._

She didn’t need a name to know who it was.

She tossed the phone on the couch.

A knock at the door.

Amara’s heart stuttered.

“No… no, it can’t be—”

But her bare feet carried her forward, slowly, silently.

She opened the door.

**Damian.**

In a black turtleneck and dark jeans, his usual armor stripped away. And his eyes… they weren’t cold.

They were ravenous.

> “I need to talk to you,” he said hoarsely. “And I’m not leaving until I do.”

> “You shouldn’t be here.”

> “I know.”

> “I’m barely dressed.”

> “I noticed.”

His eyes dipped to her chest where the silk clung damply to her curves. The heat between them sparked like live wires.

> “You have five minutes,” she lied.

He stepped inside.

Five minutes turned into one.

Because the moment she turned to speak, he grabbed her waist, slammed the door shut behind them, and claimed her mouth with a hunger that made her knees buckle.

> “You hate me,” he growled against her lips.

> “I do,” she panted.

> “So kiss me like it.”

She did.

Their mouths collided, savage and needy. Her hands clawed at his back as his slid under her robe, gripping her bare ass, lifting her like she weighed nothing.

She wrapped her legs around him, moaning into his mouth as he carried her to the couch, laying her down like an offering—and then tearing the silk robe open like he had every right.

> “I’ve dreamed about this,” he whispered, kissing down her throat. “About you. Begging me. Screaming for me.”

> “You don’t get to beg me now,” she gasped. “You don’t get to pretend you loved me.”

> “Who said I’m pretending?”

He knelt between her thighs, and when his mouth found her heat, she cried out loud enough to shake the walls.

She hated him.

And she wanted him more than her next breath.

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**End of Chapter Two**