The First Touch
532 Words
Chapter Six: The First Touch
Layla didn’t know what she expected when she stepped into his office after hours.
She told herself she just had a question about the assignment. Something simple. Professional.
But deep down, they both knew it was a lie.
Professor Ashford sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled again, shirt slightly unbuttoned at the throat. No tie. No mask. Just him — looking raw and dangerous and like he hadn’t slept in days.
She closed the door behind her.
Softly.
Deliberately.
> “You said to walk away,” she said.
He didn’t look up.
> “And you didn’t.”
> “Because I don’t want to.”
His eyes met hers then — and it wasn’t a student and professor looking at each other anymore.
It was a man and a woman.
A storm and the fire it wanted to consume.
---
He stood slowly, walking around the desk until he was standing in front of her. Too close. Too aware.
Layla’s heart was pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it.
> “You don’t understand what you’re doing,” he said.
> “Then explain it to me.”
> “If I touch you,” he said, voice low and tight, “I won’t stop.”
Silence.
> “Then don’t start,” she whispered.
But she didn’t move.
Neither did he.
Their breaths mingled in the space between them, charged and electric.
Then—his hand reached up.
Stopped just short of her cheek.
Waiting. Trembling. Asking without words.
She nodded.
And that’s when he touched her.
Fingertips brushing her jaw, soft at first. Then firmer. Like he needed to memorize her skin.
She leaned into it — into him.
His lips hovered near hers. Barely touching. Almost trembling.
> “This can’t happen,” he said.
> “It already is.”
And then—he kissed her.
Slow.
Deep.
Full of everything he’d tried to hide since the moment he first saw her.
She kissed him back like her life depended on it.
Because maybe it did.
---
It lasted seconds. Or centuries. She didn’t know.
When they finally pulled apart, his hands were still on her waist. Her breath still caught in his throat.
> “I should hate myself for this,” he murmured.
> “Do you?”
He didn’t answer.
He just stepped back, turned away — like touching her had lit a fuse he didn’t know how to defuse.
> “This was a mistake.”
Layla’s voice cracked. “But you meant it.”
He closed his eyes.
> “That’s what makes it dangerous.”
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