I Can’t Resist My Best Friend’s Dad

Chapter 2

I winced as I tried to slip on my shirt, the deep wound on my abdomen pulling tight against the fresh stitches from the night before. Each movement sent a sharp reminder through my body. I had just fastened the last button when a knock echoed through my dorm room. I sighed. Please don’t let it be Henry. I wasn’t ready to face him yet.

But when I opened the door, relief washed over me. It was Bella.

She pulled me into a warm, fierce hug. Then she drew back, eyes narrowed with concern. “I tried texting you all night , but you didn’t respond. I thought something bad had happened! At least tell me when you reach safely next time.”

Guilt flashed across my face. The truth was, the moment I’d left her house, my thoughts had been consumed by him—her father.

“Uhmm, Bella…” I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice. “I was exhausted. I just crashed.”

She pouted, arms crossed. “Next time, communicate. We’ve been apart for too long. I thought you’d disappeared on me again.”

I took her hand, squeezing gently. “I won’t disappear again. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll let you know next time.”

Her face brightened instantly. “Okay! Let’s go to campus.”

I grabbed my bag, locked the door, and followed her out. Bella chattered nonstop the entire way, so caught up in her stories that she didn’t notice the way I moved carefully, pain flaring with every step. Since we weren’t in the same courses, we parted ways at the main building.

In the lecture hall, I sat through forty agonizing minutes with no sign of the lecturer. Students began glancing my way, expecting answers. As class representative, I was supposed to know these things, but I had heard nothing. I muttered under my breath, “Maybe there’s no lecture today,” and stood to go find out.

Just then, the dean walked in.

I dropped back into my seat.

“Good morning, freshmen,” he said. We all murmured a reply. “Your former lecturer had some personal issues and has resigned.” Murmurs rippled through the room. He raised a hand. “Calm down. Fortunately, you’re lucky enough to have a highly qualified professor who has volunteered to take over the class. Mr. Professor, please come in.”

The door opened.

My heart stopped.

It was Marcus.

My eyes widened in pure panic. Why is this happening to me?

He introduced himself with that smooth, confident voice, but I barely heard a word. All I could do was pray for the ground to open and swallow me whole. Whispers spread like wildfire around me—“He’s so handsome,” “So hot,” “I’m never missing a class again.” They were right. He was devastatingly attractive. But if one accidental encounter had driven me to touch myself thinking of him, how was I supposed to survive seeing him every week until graduation?

And there was no escaping him. Not as class rep.

I kept my head down the entire lecture, willing the hour to end. When it finally did, I breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t noticed me.

I was wrong.

“Ella,” he called in that polite, velvet tone.

Every head in the room turned. The air instantly thickened with curiosity. My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Bring the class attendance to my office,” he said, then walked out.

The girls nearest me erupted.

“How does he know your name?”
 “Do you know him?”
 “Can I have his number?”
 “Oh my God, I’m never skipping again!”

Face burning, I snatched the attendance sheet and my bag, then headed to his office with my pulse thundering in my ears.

I knocked softly. No answer. The door was slightly ajar. Taking a shaky breath, I pushed it open.

The office was empty, but impressive. Awards and plaques lined the shelves—evidence of years of excellence. How had I never seen him or Bella on campus before? Maybe because we were only freshmen.

I placed the attendance list on his desk, ready to flee, when his voice wrapped around me like warm smoke.

“Little Ella.”

I startled, accidentally knocking my wound against the sharp edge of the desk. Pain exploded through me. I turned, trying desperately to hide it.

“Did I make you wait so long, darling?” he asked, stepping inside.

I gulped. “Uhmm, no. It’s fine. I should leave—”

I tried to slip past him, but his hand caught mine in a firm, unyielding grip. His gaze dropped.

“You’re bleeding.”

I looked down. A crimson stain was blooming across my white shirt. The wound had reopened when I hit the desk.

“It’s nothing,” I whispered, trying to pull away. “I was going to—”

“No.” His voice left no room for argument. “I can’t let you go like this.”

Before I could protest, he lifted me effortlessly by the waist and set me on the edge of his desk. He crouched down, eyes level with my torso. The desk was high enough that my short skirt rode up slightly as I sat there, heart racing.

“Can you lift your shirt a little, please?”

I had no choice. With trembling fingers, I raised the fabric.

He clicked his tongue softly. “What happened?”

How could I tell him I’d fallen in the bathroom because I’d been fantasizing about him?

“I… fell,” I mumbled.

He retrieved a first aid kit, working with careful, practiced hands. “This might sting.”

He peeled the old bandage away slowly. I hissed in pain. His free hand settled on my bare thigh to steady me, the warmth of his palm sending goosebumps racing across my skin. He cleaned the wound, applied fresh ointment, and re-bandaged it with gentle precision.

His fingers brushed near my belly button, grazing the small piercing there. His voice dropped, low and seductive. “I like your piercing, Ella.”

He toyed with it lightly, sending sparks of electricity through me.

Then—knock, knock.

“Daddy? Are you in there?” Bella’s voice called from the hallway.

My blood ran cold.