In My Professor's Arms

(Lily's POV)

It's my first day at this prestigious university, and honestly i'm eager to know what this school has for me.

On the beautiful sunny Monday morning, I walked into the lecture hall. It was cold, almost clinical, but I wasn't bothered in any way. I’d always preferred sitting in the front row, close enough to catch every word the professor said and every detail of their expression. Today, however, the front row wasn’t just a strategic choice for academic success. Something inside me had been urging me forward since the moment I arrived, though I didn’t fully understand why. Maybe it's because I'm new here, but in contrast to my regular position, I actually wanted to sit anywhere else except the front row, but there is a pull taking me to my beloved front row.

When he walked in, everything seemed to make more sense.

Professor Victor Graham.

The name had been printed neatly on the syllabus I’d scanned over the weekend, but it hadn’t prepared me for this. He wasn’t the regular professor you'd meet in every school. I mean, professors were supposed to be dull—bookish men with crooked ties, graying hair, old-fashioned, and everything that could possibly distinguish them from being in vogue. But this man was nothing of the sort.

He strode into the room with confidence, a silent declaration of his authority that filled the entire space. He wore a tailored navy blue suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean frame, his crisp white shirt open just at the collar, sharp and clearly defined, possessing an utmost degree of firmness and freshness, and revealing a sliver of tanned skin. His dark eyes were piercing, scanning the room with a sharpness that made my breath hitch. He didn’t just look at the class; he assessed us, each and every one.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. It rolled through the room, effortlessly commanding perfect silence. “Welcome to Philosophy 301. I’m Professor Victor Graham.”

Professor Graham's voice was calm and brave. The sound of his voice sent shivers down my spine. It was rich, warm, and devastatingly male, wrapping around me like a velvet cloak; it was like no other. My pulse quickened, and I crossed my legs tightly, hoping to steady the heat building between them.

When his gaze passed over me, I felt it like a physical touch. My stomach flipped, and a strange heat bloomed low in my belly. I ducked my head, pretending to adjust my notebook, but the sensation lingered.

It wasn't just his words; it's the way he carried himself. Confident, unshaken. My focus shouldn't be on the way his shirt rested on his chest when he leaned a little bit on the pulpit, or how his jawline looked sharper im the dim light of the lecture hall. But I couldn't help it, no matter how I tried to stop, I just couldn't.

I’d never felt this way before.

At twenty-one, I was still a virgin, not out of some moral code but simply because nothing had ever ignited me. I've never been completely into boys. The two I dated in high school and college had been sweet, attentive even, but their touches had left me cold. I’d wondered if something was wrong with me, if I was incapable of desire. But now, sitting in this lecture hall, staring at the man at the podium, I knew that wasn’t true, and something mysterious is how he's doing this to me unconsciously.

Every movement he made was mesmerizing. The way his hands gestured as he spoke, the way his lips curved over each word, the slight crease in his brow as he emphasized a point—it all drew me in. Maybe I'm just not a baby anymore, and I've moved on from being the young teenager I was.

Little did I know that my nipples tightened beneath my blouse, pressing against the lace of my bra in a way that was almost painful. My skin prickled with goosebumps, but it wasn’t from the cold; it was from something I could explain, but yet couldn't understand why.

Before the lecture started, he asked to go through the first page of our manual so we can have a little prepared of what he Is about to lecture on since that's where the lecture is driven from. I've read that before so I didn't really bother to focus on it. He noticed it wasn't, but he didn't look at me right away, but when he finally did, his gaze seemed... heavier. My heart shattered and I immediately controlled myself to start reading it.

By this time, the space felt overwhelming. Since it was the first day, the wasn't too occupied I guess a lot of students haven't resumed so the space felt quiet but the sound of his voice? It drowned everything out.

He began the lecture, his voice weaving effortlessly through concepts I should have been paying attention to. I tried to focus, but my thoughts kept drifting, completely in another world, a world full of fantasies. What would it feel like to have those hands on me? To have that commanding voice murmuring my name, telling me what to do?

The heat in my body is built with every passing minute. My thighs pressed together, desperate to ease the ache forming between them. I could feel my pulse throbbing in places I didn’t dare acknowledge, and it terrified me how much I wanted him, even though it's crazy, but I crazily do.

He posed a question to the class, and before I could stop myself, I raised my hand.

“Yes, you,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. My stomach flipped at the sound of his voice. “Lily, isn’t it?”

He knew my name. I felt it was something different, but it felt like something that is.

My name sounded different in his voice, sharper, more important.

"You're the only new student here, so who wouldn't know your name? That's nothing special." My inner self echoed in my head.

“Yes, Professor,” I managed, surprised my voice didn’t tremble. I answered his question as clearly as I could, though my heart was pounding so loudly it drowned out my thoughts.

“Interesting perspective,” he said, his lips curling into a faint smile. It wasn’t a generic, polite smile—it was knowing, almost amused, as if he could see right through me.

My cheeks burned, but I couldn’t look away. His gaze lingered just a second too long, and I felt an electric thrill shoot through me. Did he know what I was feeling? Could he tell how my body reacted to him?

The rest of the lecture passed in a haze. I couldn’t escape the sense that his attention kept drifting back to me. It felt like he was focusing on me and noticed every single thing I'm feeling. Every time his dark eyes met mine, it sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through me. I told myself I was just imagining it, but deep down, I didn’t believe that.

By the time the lecture ended, I was a mess; my skin tingled, and I pressed my thigh together . I've never felt this type of connection with someone, never before. My thighs ached from being clenched together the whole time, and my chest felt tight with unspent energy. I stayed in my seat, pretending to organize my notes as the other students filed out. I needed a moment to get myself together and to calm the river of water flowing inside of me.

He was still on the podium all this while, trying to get his teaching materials together. "What's he packing that's taking this long?" I thought in my mind.

But then his voice disrupted my thought and cut through the quiet. “Lily.”

My heart stopped. Slowly, I turned to face him.

“Yes, Professor?”

He was watching me, his dark eyes intense and unreadable. “You seem to have a good grasp of the material.”

The compliment shouldn’t have sent a rush of heat through me, but the way he said it—soft, deliberate—made my knees feel weak.

“Thank you, Professor,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His eyes stayed on mine, as though he was searching for something unusual. Then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, and turned back to his notes, picked them up, and left.

Honestly, this whole feeling isn't normal. Students don't feel this way about their professors, and professors definitely do not feel this way about their students. Not that he felt anything—he couldn't. Yet my chest tightened every time I think about it, my body betrays me.

I waited for a few minutes before I stood up and walked slowly out of the room before I could embarrass myself further, my cheeks burning and my thoughts spinning.

As I walked down the hallway, the memory of his gaze haunted me. Had I imagined it? The way his eyes lingered, the softness in his voice—was it all in my head? Or had he felt it too, that strange, electric pull?

I needed a distraction, something to keep my mind away from the relaying of the every glace and words.

While strolling outside, I met a group of three coursemates, José, Sophie, and Davies.

We discussed a little, and since they've been students here since first year, they knew a whole lot more about this school than me. I'm not going to lie; they were all wonderful people to talk to.

That was definitely not the highlight of my day, not even close to it, because even during the interaction, my mind was somewhere else, with someone else.

I thought about his gaze heavy and unshakeable, as he looked at me before he left after he complimented me earlier. My pulse raced, my thoughts spinning. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe... It was everything.