Elizabeth's POV

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating angrily on the nightstand.

I groaned, barely shifting, and instantly regretted it. A sharp pain flared between my thighs. I winced, biting down on a gasp as I turned to my side. Every movement reminded me of last night. Every throb, every ache, every bruised spot on my skin was a souvenir he had left behind.

Sebastian Gray.

God.

My phone vibrated again. I reached for it with a shaky hand, not to check the screen but to stop the noise. The sun shone through the slits in the curtain, casting soft shadows across the sheets.

The same sheets he had pinned me against. The same ones I had clawed at when he whispered filth into my ear while making me feel things I never knew my body was capable of.

I closed my eyes, reminiscing.

He had asked me if I was sure.

Twice.

And both times, I had said yes. Desperately. Like the answer had been waiting on my tongue since the first day I walked into his class and saw him leaning against his desk like he belonged to another era, untouchable, reserved, terrifyingly magnetic.

Last night, he touched every part of me I thought no one ever would.

I remembered the ropes, how tightly he had tied them, but never too tight. The way he had kissed my shoulder before bending me forward. The low, commanding tone he used when he told me not to look away from the mirror.

I had looked.

I had watched myself come undone under him. More than once.

And now I was sore.

I sat up slowly and dragged the sheet around me. The scent of him still clung to the pillow beside mine. He was gone, obviously. But he said I could leave whenever I wanted. That was the only goodbye I had gotten. Guilt rooted itself in my  chest, embarrassment too. I had said and done things to that older man, how would I live it out?.

Considering that he worked in my university, but thankfully my department wasn't too close to his. I could avoid him.

The clock on the wall said 10:42 a.m.

I finally decided to check my phone.

Seventeen messages. Five missed calls.

Most of them were from unknown numbers. Probably classmates. Curious vultures wanting to know if the hallway drama was real. If I had more tears to offer. Unfortunately for the gossip queens, I did not.

____

After that night, things changed.

I didn't post, didn't party, didn't attend a single campus event. I withdrew from the noise and tucked myself behind the fortress of my textbooks. I cut off the whispers with silence, and the rumors died faster than expected. People moved on, well I figured because in actuality college attention spans were short.

Except mine.

I pushed myself harder than I ever had before. My days became mechanical, rotating around class, library, work and sleep. I didn't let myself feel anything, I didn't let myself remember. Not Ethan's betrayal, and certainly not the way Sebastian Gray had held me like I was something he was allowed to break. And God help me, I had begged for it.

I buried the memories of that night under academic journals and problem sets. And slowly, painfully, it worked.

I ended my senior year with a GPA so clean it gleamed. My professors noticed. The dean noticed. And one afternoon, I got an email that changed everything:

"Congratulations. You've been awarded the Ellsworth Academic Excellence Grant. Your final year tuition is fully covered."

I stared at the screen until the words stopped blurring. For the first time in months, I let myself smile. A genuine one.

Until the phone call.

It was during summer break. A year after my incident with Ethan. I was staying in my small off-campus apartment, drinking lukewarm tea and working on an early research proposal when my phone rang.

May.

I stared at the name like it belonged to a ghost. I hadn't saved her number, but I knew it by heart. My mother never called. Never texted. Not even on birthdays.

Against every instinct, I answered.

"Hello?" My voice was stiff.

There was a pause, like even she was surprised I'd picked up.

"Elizabeth."

That voice. May never sounded warm. She sounded like she had better things to do, even though she gave birth to me.

"I wasn't expecting you to pick up," she added, almost defensively.

"You called me," I said flatly.

"Right." Another pause. "I have some news. I'm getting married this weekend. Thought you should know."

I blinked. "Married?"

"Yes. To a wonderful and proper man."

"I want you to come," she continued. "It's nothing fancy. Just something private at his estate. I think....I think it's time you met him."

I almost laughed. After years of silence, this was the bridge she chose to build?

But part of me, some cracked, desperate part, still wanted peace with her. So I agreed.

And three days later, I stood in the sunlit garden of an estate that looked like it had been cut out of a luxury magazine. Rows of white chairs. Lavender runners. Champagne in the hands of strangers. And me, awkward in a pale blue dress, hair pulled back, while clutching a gift I didn't want to give.

I didn't see the groom, my mother's husband until the ceremony began. When I caught sight of him, I had to rub my eyelids.... just to be sure.

He was tall. Broad. Perfectly put together. I had scratched his back, I had kissed his lips, I had rode his....

Sebastian Gray. My professor. My only one-night stand. My mother's groom?

The world tilted and left me in some alternate reality.

He didn't notice me at first. His hand was on May's lower back, his face composed as ever. But then his eyes scanned the crowd and then stopped on me.

His hand tightened around my mother's back and his brow arched in surprise.

"Elizabeth," I could almost hear the murmur from his lips.

Elizabeth's pov

My heart had stopped, I was sure of it.

Sebastian Gray. Standing there in a tailored tuxedo, the sun glinting off the silver in his cufflinks, his hand steady around my mother's waist. He looked every bit the groom, composed, polished, and deeply familiar.

I told myself to breathe, even though it was hard. To pretend, to act like I didn't know what his skin felt like against mine. Like I hadn't cried out his name just beneath the weight of his hand gripping my hair.

Our eyes met. But he didn't say anything else. Not with my mother beaming beside him, her arm looped tightly through his like she owned him.

And maybe she did.

The ceremony went on in a haze. Vows exchanged. Laughter. A soft kiss between the two. Applause. I clapped too, my hands numb, the gift box digging into my palms.

I kept my distance at the reception, lingering by the buffet and dodging my mother's gaze. Sebastian didn't approach me right away. But I felt him watching me.

Every damn second.

His gaze burned the back of my neck even when I wasn't facing him. Like a branded memory I couldn't erase.

I tried to pretend. I smiled politely when guests asked who I was. I drank tiny portions, stayed far from the dance floor. But it was impossible to forget. The night I had given myself to him. The night I had begged him not to stop.

I kept walking, because I felt suffocated. I figured that if I went away from the crowd then I would feel slightly better. Turning a corner, I found him there. Alone.

"Miss Walters," he said,

I swallowed hard. "Professor."

"Elizabeth," he corrected.

"I think 'Miss Walters' suits us better," I said tightly.

He took a step closer. I stepped back.

"This isn't uh....." I started.

"I didn't know," he said. "When I met your mother. I had no idea she was...."

"My mother," I finished.

We stood in silence, the soft hum of music drifting from the garden behind us. His eyes were the same. Dark. Commanding. And they hadn't changed, not even now, not even as they trailed down the neckline of my dress before snapping back to my face.

"I remember every second of that night," he said.

"Don't." My voice cracked. "Don't you dare say that. We agreed it was just one night."

"I didn't agree to forget."

I closed my eyes. "Well, I did."

My hand trembled as I pressed it to his chest. "Forget me. Forget that night. I don't want to ruin my mother's happiness. She doesn't have much. Please..... just leave me alone."

He didn't argue.

He didn't touch me.

He only nodded,

"As a logical man, it is the logical thing to do."

But something in his eyes told me that he was lying.

And I fled.

I didn't say goodbye to my mother. I didn't stay for cake or photos or dancing. I caught a night bus out of town, my heart hammering with guilt and confusion as I journeyed the road.

I promised myself something as I stared out that window.

I wouldn't be the villain in my mother's fairytale. She may not have treated me as a daughter, or given the attention, or warm hugs, but in her own little way she loved me.... somewhat. And I wouldn't want to do this to her.

_____

Senior year came faster than expected.

I returned to campus, locked down my emotions, and focused on my final workload. Avoidance became a skill. I reminded myself that whatever happened last year had been buried and sealed.

Until I saw my class schedule.

PHL 602: Applied Ethics and Thought

Instructor: Professor Sebastian Gray.

My chest tightened. I immediately headed to the department office.

"I need to switch professors," I told the clerk.

"Why?" she asked.

"Conflict of interest," I lied.

She typed something, then frowned. "Your name was specifically requested for Professor Gray's class. There's no open seat in the others."

I blinked. "He.....requested me?"

She nodded, distracted. "Um, you are listed on his priority roster."

My throat went dry. I turned without another word and walked out, holding the paper in my hand like it had slapped me.

My fingers crumpled the paper as I marched down the faculty wing.

I would tell him, calmly, professionally, that this was a mistake. That I needed to be moved. Whatever twisted reason he had for doing this, it wasn't okay.

When I turned the corner, I saw a familiar face. Jennifer was there.

Perched on the edge of the leather bench outside his office door, flipping through her phone like she owned the hallway. Her heels were impossibly high. Her lip gloss is a violent red.

When she looked up and saw me, her smile spread like rot.

"Well, well," she said, standing slowly. "Didn't know you were majoring in coming to this part of the college wing now."

I said nothing.

"Ethan says hi by the way," she chuckled.

I stepped past her, ignoring her smirk. I knocked once before pushing the door open.

Professor Gray looked up from his desk, one hand around a pen, the other resting against his temple.

He didn't look surprised.

"Miss Walters," he said evenly, setting the pen down. "I figured you'd come."

I closed the door behind me and stood stiffly in front of his desk.

"You had no right to put me on that class list," I said.

He raised an eyebrow. "Technically, I did."

"Sebastian....Professor Gray, what do you want from me?"

He leaned back, eyes locked on mine.

"I want you in my class."

"No," I snapped, voice low and sharp. "I told you that night meant nothing. I told you to forget. I left because it was wrong."

"I haven't touched you since," he said.

"That's not the point."

His eyes darkened. "Then tell me what it is."

"I'm trying to move on," I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "I came back here to finish school. To get my degree. Not to be stared down by the man who....who slept with me and married my mother."

His jaw tensed, just slightly. "I didn't know....I met her months after we...."

I shook my head.

"You didn't have to request me for your class."

He stood.

I took a step back.

"I requested you," he said, voice low, "because you're brilliant. And because after all of it, I still can't forget you. Even when I know I should."

Elizabeth's pov

I couldn't forget that night either, how he felt....how he made me feel. But I couldn't tell him that.

"Professor Gray, I am sorry but we have to, you're basically my step father and....I can't do this with you."

"Elizabeth...."

I didn't let him finish, I was already turning away, he didn't seem like he would transfer me....so I would do it myself.

____

Bullshit.

The departmental head was even more frustrating, according to them, student reassignment to professor Gordon, the other professor was full, and so....I was stuck with Sebastian.

And looking at my program slip, I had his class in few minutes.

"Attendance streak," I murmured, I couldn't miss his class even if I wanted to.

I found myself sitting in the back of his class, my notebook in front of me, his eyes locked with mine for a brief moment, a sinful smirk stretching on his lips.

But he turned to the white board and taught like I wasn't even there. And yet subconsciously I found myself leaning in.

A cough snapped me out of it,

Ethan.

His arm around Jennifer, his fingers tracing her thighs, his eyes smiling mockingly at me. In the past year I had ignored his existence, the rumours had died down but some people just couldn't help using it to get to me.

I looked away quickly, heart thudding, not because of Ethan, but because of how easy it had been to forget where I was.

For a moment, I had been leaning forward, my lips parted, legs crossed a little too tightly. All because of the way Sebastian...Professor Gray, how he spoke when he lectured. Controlled and firm. His voice like a slow pour of whiskey over ice. Dangerous and addictive.

And I hated that about myself. Hated how, despite everything, my body still remembered him.

Ethan chuckled lowly beside Jennifer, loud enough for me to hear. I didn't look his way, but I could feel it. The pointed stares. The smug little grins. Jennifer's high-pitched whisper followed:

"She's still obsessed with you Ethan. It's kinda sad."

I clenched my pen so tightly the plastic creaked. But I kept my eyes on the board, where Sebastian was scribbling a quote.

"Hey, lil b*tch..." Ethan whispered.

Professor Gray turned slowly and faced the class. "Thoughts?"

Hands shot up, discussions broke out. But his eyes drifted back to me.

I didn't speak. I didn't trust my voice to be steady, not when the memory of his breath on my neck still haunted me.

Class ended twenty minutes later. The room emptied slowly, students laughing and stretching, the usual post-lecture buzz. I packed my things carefully, trying not to rush, trying not to look like I was avoiding him, even though I absolutely was.

As I slung my bag over my shoulder, his voice stopped me.

"Miss Walters, a moment."

I froze. So did half the class. Eyes flicked toward me.

"Everything alright?" Ethan called from the door, mock concern in his voice. "You look pale. Should I walk you to the nurse?"

Jennifer giggled.

I didn't answer. I didn't even blink in his direction. I walked to the front of the room and waited until the door clicked shut behind the last student.

We were alone.

Sebastian leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled neatly to his elbows.

"That little stunt he pulled," he said, voice low and even, "will not happen again."

"I don't need you to protect me," I said sharply.

"I am not protecting you," he replied. "I'm protecting my classroom."

I let out a dry laugh. "Of course. Professionalism."

His eyes darkened. "If I wanted to be unprofessional, Elizabeth, I would've taken you apart with my mouth right there in the back row."

My breath caught.

His voice had dropped an octave.

I hated that he still had that effect on me.

"Please Mr Gray, be appropriate," I whispered.

"Then stop looking at me like that," he said.

"Like what.....I'm not looking at you anyway."

He smiled a bit, then reached his hands out, a strand of my hair curling around his smooth thick fingers.

"Your shampoo smells amazing."

I didn't flinch when he touched my hair. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should've stepped back, scolded him, reminded him for the hundredth time that this wasn't right.

But I didn't.

Instead, I stood there, frozen, while my skin burned where his fingers brushed the strands beside my cheek. He leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a breath.

"Your perfume smells amazing too. Your scent is intoxicating, Elizabeth."

I blinked slowly. "You shouldn't be saying things like that."

"And yet," he murmured, "you're not stopping me."

He was right.

God, I hated that he was right.

My heart hammered in my chest, the air between us thick and charged, and I couldn't help but meet his eyes. His thumb brushed the edge of my jaw gently, deliberately.

"This isn't fair," I whispered.

"It never was," he replied.

We stood like that for a moment, tethered by silence and memories neither of us wanted to speak out loud. His head dipped slightly, and mine tilted, just a little, an involuntary lean. His lips were a breath away from mine,

Knock knock.

A sharp rap at the door.

"Professor Gray? The 602B section is waiting outside. You're past the bell," someone called from the hallway.

Just like that, the tension snapped.

He pulled back instantly, the mask of professionalism sliding back over his face with seamless precision. I blinked twice, heart still racing, and stepped away.

"You should go," he said quietly, straightening his shirt cuffs.

I didn't say anything. I just nodded, adjusted the strap of my bag, and headed for the door.

But before I opened it, I turned slightly. "You said we shouldn't look at each other like that."

"I did."

"Then stop looking at me like you're still thinking about that night."

This was his game, quiet seduction.

He didn't have respect for my mother, I do not know why they married but he was hers now, not mine. He could never be.