SEDUCING MY BIKER PROFESSOR

CHAPTER 18: When Everything Collided

Adrian's POV

"Look into my eyes and tell me this is nothing."

Her voice was quiet. She held my gaze and didn't blink. I stood there looking back at her.

The lie I had been rehearsing died in my throat.

And I was done.

"You want the truth?" I said.

I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her into me before she had time to think about it. The air left her lungs in a rush.

I walked her backward until the edge of the display table caught her. I stepped in close, trapping her between the wood and my body.

Her thighs parted on instinct and I moved into the space, pressing myself flush against her.

My c**k was hard. There was no hiding it. I didn't try to, I rolled my hips forward deliberately and watched her eyes go wide.

"You feel that?" I said against her ear, my voice dropping low. "That is what you do to me. Every single time you walk into a room."

She made a sound that was small and fractured and it went straight to my d**k.

Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt like she needed something to hold onto. I could feel the heat coming off her skin through the layers between us.

I dragged my hips against hers again, slow and intentional. I ground into her and her breath broke apart.

"Such a needy little slut," I rasped, letting the dirty truth slip from my tongue.

The vulgar words should have shocked her, but it only made her breath hitch harder. "You stand in my classroom acting like a tough, defiant student. But right now you are shaking because you want my hands on you.", I pressed closer, making her feel every inch of what she has done to me. “Tell me I'm wrong”

She couldn't.

Her nails found my shoulder and dug into me. She arched into me, her body answering before her mouth could.

"Yes," the word came out wrecked, heavy with desire. She rubbed her p***y back against hardness.

I gripped her jaw and made her look at me. I wanted her to see it. The thing I had been burying under cold looks and professional distance. The careful cruelty since the night she arrived. I wanted her to see what she had reduced me to.

"Are you thinking about it?" I asked. "Me pulling that dress up and f*****g you right here? Bending you over this table until you stop thinking about anything else, until the only name you remember is mine?"

She nodded.

Her chest was heaving against mine. The anger from minutes ago has dissolved, replaced by something raw and honest that neither of us was pretending about anymore.

I looked at her mouth. At her flushed skin and the way her lips had parted slightly and stayed that way.

The dirty words had been a shield, a way to destabilize her so she would leave. A way to destabilize myself so I would stop feeling what I was actually feeling. But the shield wasn't working anymore.

The truth was simpler and more damaging than anything I had said.

I had bought that painting because I needed something of hers that I could keep. Because I had known from the beginning that I couldn't have her. Not really. Not without burning everything down. A painting felt like the closest I was going to get.

I had listened to her cry on the phone about losing her work and I had said nothing, because telling her would have meant explaining why I had it, and explaining that would have meant admitting things I had no business admitting.

I wanted to tell her all of it. Standing there with her pressed against me and her eyes searching mine for something honest, I was ready to say every word. Damn the club. Damn the promises I had made to Ronan. Damn the distance I had spent weeks maintaining.

I leaned down toward her mouth, ready to consume her.

The door suddenly clicked and swung wide open.

The noise shattered the erotic haze filling the room. I froze.

The violent conditioning of the streets kicked in before my conscious mind could fully process the interruption. I kept my body positioned closely in front of Nirvana to shield her from whoever just walked into the room.

I turned my head and looked toward the doorway.

Ronan stepped straight into the VIP room.

He was adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket, likely just finishing a conversation with the restaurant manager in the hallway. But his eyes landed immediately on the two of us standing intimately close in the room.

I watched the whole sequence of emotions play out across my best friend's face in the span of three seconds.

First, there was confusion. He did not understand why I was in the building. He thought I was miles away at the clubhouse or handling business at the docks.

Then, the confusion shifted into a focused observation. He saw the way my hands were laying on his sister's waist. He saw the way Nirvana was pressed flush against my chest, her breathing heavy and her face flushed with obvious arousal.

He remembered the strict, lethal warning he gave me in his private study just last night. He had ordered me not to touch her. He had told me to remember my place as her professor and his brother in arms.

And here I was, standing alone with her in a secluded, locked room, staring at her as if I wanted to devour her right on the table.

The realization hit Ronan like a physical blow. The concern and the confusion on his face vanished entirely, transforming into instant, explosive, and murderous anger.

Ronan did not ask what was going on. He did not pause to ask Nirvana if she was okay. He did not ask for a single explanation. He saw a man violating his trust and preying on the sister he swore to protect.

He crossed the room in three strides.

I barely had time to push Nirvana safely to the side before Ronan lunged directly at me with unbridled force. His face was twisted into a mask of pu violent rage as he threw a fist straight toward my jaw.