Forbidden Lecture: My Professor's Secret Craving

Chapter 12

One line.

Aria stared at it, blinking, waiting for another to appear like some delayed curse. But it never changed to two lines

“Omg!” Her knees wobbled with sudden relief. Air rushed out of her lungs in a rush that made her almost choke.

“Lena,” she said, her voice breaking, “it’s… negative.”

The door flung open immediately. The door was locked, so Lena must’ve picked it or it hadn’t caught properly. She burst in, eyes wide.

“Negative?” she repeated.

Aria nodded, laughter and tears bubbling together. “Negative. Just… late. Or stressed. I don’t know.”

Lena sagged against the doorframe, one hand pressed to her chest. “Jesus Christ, Aria. Don’t do that to me. I am too pretty for this level of cortisol.”

Aria let out a shaky laugh, then suddenly she was crying, like really crying, tears spilling hot down her cheeks. Lena crossed the small space in two strides and pulled her into a hug, the test tube still clutched in Aria’s hand.

“I was so sure,” Aria managed between breaths. “I thought—”

“I know,” Lena murmured into her hair. “Of course you did. Look at everything going on. Your body is probably on strike.”

Aria choked into her friend’s shirt. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Lena said firmly, rubbing cicles in her back. “You’re a woman with a v****a and feelings and a very off-limits professor whose c**k apparently has mind control powers. There’s a difference.”

Aria snorted. “That’s… not scientifically proven.”

“Trust me. I’ve done the research.”

They stayed like that for a while. When the sobs finally eased, Aria pulled back, wiping her face with the heel of her hand.

“You’re okay,” Lena said as she grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed under Aria’s eyes. “Listen. This was a scare, not a sentence. Use it.”

“Use it how?” Aria asked.

“As a giant neon sign from the universe,” Lena said. “A wake-up call. To prioritize. A chance to ask what you really want, not just what your p***y wants when Professor Fine-Ass whispers in your ear.”

Aria groaned. “Don’t call him that.”

“Then stop f*****g him every where you see him,” Lena shot back.

They both blinked at each other, then burst into shaky, horrified laughter.

When the laughter died down, Aria slumped against the sink, clutching the test with less desperation now.

“I like him,” she admitted softly. “I know I’m not supposed to. I mean, he’s my professor and married, but… It’s not just s*x. It’s… his mind. The way he challenges me. The way he looks at me like I’m not just some girl who lucked into a scholarship.”

Lena’s face gentled. “Aria…”

“And I like Tyler too,” Aria added, surprising herself with the admission. “When I’m around him I feel… safe. Normal. Like my life doesn’t have to be a walking disaster.”

“So you’re attracted to the human red flag and the golden retriever barista,” Lena summarized. “Classic.”

“I’m a cliché, I know.”

“You’re a twenty-something woman with trauma,” Lena corrected. “So… what are you going to do now? Will you tell him?”

Aria wiped her face again, the last of the adrenaline slowly leaving her.

“I can’t,” she said quickly. The image of Jason’s face when he’d kissed her flashed in her mind. They way he’d said, We’d lied. “He’s married and I… I don’t want to add any more trouble than I already have.”

Lena nodded slowly. “Then don’t. Aria, you really need to stop seeing him. Your scholarship and your mental health is on the line. Look at what just happened.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” Lena cut in. “I wanted you to move on from Marcus, but not enter into some sexy married professor trap.”

The words lodged somewhere deep.

“You’re right,” Aria said quietly. “I really have to stay away from him.”

If only it was that easy. One word from him, and she’ll strip bare like an obedient s*x slave.

- - -

Later that evening, clean-faced and wrapped in one of Lena’s oversized T-shirts, Aria curled up on the couch with a blanket, watching a Netflix movie. Her phone sat on the coffee table. Every so often, she glanced at it, expecting it to light up with Jason’s name.

It didn’t.

He’s probably at home with his wife, she thought, maybe eating dinner like some happy family.

Her stomach twisted again. Truth be told, she wanted him to reach out. To check on her. To ask if she was okay after what they did.

Without thinking, she picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over his contact.

“Don’t,” she told herself. “You have to stop this addiction.”

Instead, she opened a chat with Tyler.

Aria: “Hey”

Tyler: “Hey, I was just thinking of you… as a friend would, of course.”

A tiny laugh escaped her. She could almost hear his voice in the words. She typed back:

Aria: “You’re not serious.”

Tyler: How’s it going with the professor? Been keeping you on your toes?

Her breath caught. Even though it was an innocent question, but with a different context, that was something else.

Aria: “Maybe. I’ve got some papers to grade with me.”

Tyler: “On a weekend? Bastard. Come by tomorrow, I’ll prescribe caffeine.”

Aria: “Doctor’s orders?”

Tyler: “Obviously. Trust your healthcare provider.”

Warmth settled over her like a blanket. Friend, Aria, she reminded herself. Just a friend. She put the phone down and let her eyes drift shut, exhaustion finally putting her to sleep.

- - -

Across town, Jason sat at his kitchen table, an untouched glass of wine in front of him. His laptop was open, a stack of essays beside it, but he hadn’t written a single comment in the last twenty minutes.

Victoria moved around upstairs. He could hear her heels clicking softly on the marble floor. She had just come in from some event—he’d lost track of which charity or gala this time.

They hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words.

He stared at the blank comment box on his screen. Every time he tried to type, all he saw was Aria’s face tipped back, the way she’d moaned his name when he tongue-f****d her.

“Jason?” Victoria’s voice floated down the stairs, bringing him back to reality. “You’re not dressed.”

He closed his eyes briefly. Right. Tonight.

He pushed back from the table and stood as she appeared in the doorway, already changed into a sleek black dress that hugged her like it had been designed specifically for her body. Her hair was pinned up perfectly, her makeup with a red lipstick flawless.

“We’re meeting Mother and Father in less than an hour,” she said. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Richard and Eleanor Grant, Victoria’s parents, come from old money with the faculty’s board connections. They’re the kind of people who treat university donations like casual Christmas gifts. Jason had spent years perfecting his performance around them, acting as the dutiful son-in-law.

“Of course not,” he said. “I just lost track of the day. I’ll go get ready.”

Victoria continued like he didn’t say anything. “They flew in from Sydney this afternoon. The least we can do is show up on time.”

- - -

The drive to the restaurant was silent except for the low hum of her phone notification. Victoria checked her emails about gala seating charts and donor lists while Jason stared at the city light blurring past. They barely speak to each other, so the silence was normal.

Twenty minutes later, they were at Les Cimes. The restaurant was all glass and soft light, perched high enough that the city lights looked like a spilled jewelry box below. A host led them to a corner table with a beautiful view.

Richard and Eleanor were already seated—Mark silver-haired, commanding with the authority of a man who’d never had to ask twice, Eleanor elegant in pearl earrings, her smile as sharp as her cheekbones.

“So, Jason,” Richard said as they settled, signaling the waiter without looking. “Victoria tells us you’ve been buried in work. Heavy term?”

“Something like that,” Jason replied, forcing the familiar smile. “But the students keep it rewarding.”

Victoria sipped her water with lemon. “Jason’s department is thriving. Full roster.”

Eleanor leaned forward slightly. “We heard about the new T.A. Hargrove mentioned it at lunch the other day. Richard’s old golf partner, you know.”

Richard nodded, cutting into his starter with precision. “Unprecendented. Two TAs for one professor? You must be running quite the operation, Jason. What’s the new girl’s name again? Hm…. Aria, yes.”

Jason’s fork paused mid-air at the mention of her name.

“She’s earned her spot on scholarship merit. It’s just standard allocation.”

“I know, but still,” Richard pressed. “Two at once is just… Hargrove seemed impressed. Or concerned. It’s hard to tell with him.”

Victoria’s gaze stayed on her plate, but Jason caught the faint tightening of her jaw.

The conversation drifted to safer waters: department budgets, upcoming galas, Eleanor’s latest charity auction. But the air felt thicker, every compliment laced with subtext. This polished life, this dinner, these people were all built on the same hollow foundation he had just risked everything to escape.

Richard signaled for the check, then leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

“Before we forget,” he said, looking at Eleanor. “Any plans for kids yet? It’s been five years now. Your mother and I were your age when we had Victoria.”

Eleanor’s eyes lit up. “Yes. We need a little Anderson-Grant. Perfect for the legacy.”

It was like the oxygen was sucked out of the air. I almost choked on my wine while Victoria stiffened beside me.

“We’ve been… focused on our careers,” Victoria said smoothly. “Timing’s not right yet.”

“Nonsense,” Richard said as he waved a hand. “Careers can wait, Biology doesn’t. Jason, the board loves family men so…”

Children. The one part of their “arrangement” they never discussed breaking. Victoria’s gaze flicked to him, expectant. Careful what you say.

“I’m aware,” Jason managed to say. “We’ll… discuss it.”

Richard clapped him on the shoulder as they stood. “Good man. Eleanor and I would be expecting one before the year ends.”

Jason’s throat closed. He looked at Victoria and she had the same expression as he did.