Jackson's POV
I noticed her before my mind could catch up.
She stood just outside my office door, half-hidden by the frame, like she wasn't sure she belonged there. Her hand hovered in the air, fingers curled slightly, the clear intention to knock again fighting with hesitation. That alone told me something was wrong. Erica was not impulsive. She didn't hover. When she decided something, she followed through.
For a second, hope stirred in me.
Then her eyes shifted.
From me… to Sophie.
I watched it happen in real time, the way her gaze paused, the way her body stiffened, the way something in her face quietly collapsed. It wasn't dramatic. There was no anger, no accusation. Just disappointment settling in her eyes like a slow bruise.
She hadn't come prepared for this.
Before I could stand, before I could even say her name, she turned away.
She didn't run. She didn't storm off.
She walked quickly, carefully, like she didn't want anyone to see what she was feeling.
And I knew, with painful certainty, that this wasn't confusion.
This was hurt.
Sophie was still talking.
Her voice filled the room, animated and bright, explaining something about an assignment she didn't really need help with. I could hear the sound of her laughter, light and careless, and suddenly it grated against my nerves.
It felt wrong.
Too loud. Too cheerful. Too unaware.
My attention wasn't on her anymore. It was following Erica down the hallway, replaying the way her face had fallen, the way she hadn't even tried to look back.
"Sophie," I said.
She didn't stop.
"Sophie."
She looked up, smiling. "Yes, sir?"
"This conversation isn't important right now," I said calmly. "You can leave."
The words came out level, professional. Cold in a way I rarely allowed myself to be.
Her smile faltered. "Did I do something wrong?"
I didn't answer.
I didn't trust myself to.
"I need you to leave," I repeated.
Confusion flickered across her face, followed by embarrassment. She stood slowly, gathering her things, her movements stiff now.
"Oh… okay," she said. "I'll go."
She lingered for half a second, clearly expecting reassurance. When none came, she turned and walked out.
The door shut behind her.
The silence that followed was thick.
I locked the door, not because I needed privacy, but because I needed the world to stop intruding. I leaned back against my desk and exhaled deeply, my hands resting on the edge like I needed something solid to hold onto.
Erica hadn't looked angry.
Anger I could handle.
She had looked wounded.
That was worse.
I closed my eyes, but my thoughts refused to quiet. They moved backward, relentlessly, to the moment I had been avoiding since it happened.
The kiss.
How she had stepped into my space without warning.
How her lips had touched mine first.
How instinct should have taken over.
How it hadn't.
I should have stopped her immediately. I knew that. I had taught ethics. I lived by boundaries. And yet, for one reckless moment, I let desire outrun discipline.
I remembered the way my hands had moved, the way control had slipped just enough to frighten me afterward. The way I had pressed her back against the wall, not in anger, not in dominance, but in surrender to something I didn't want to admit.
I wasn't proud of that moment.
I was ashamed.
I understood the weight of what I had done. The imbalance of power. The risk to her. The risk to me. One rumor. One accusation. One misunderstanding, and everything I had built would collapse.
I thought about my job.
My reputation.
The university's rules.
Staying away would be the smartest thing to do.
But walking away didn't feel like responsibility.
It felt like cowardice.
I grabbed my jacket and left my office.
The campus felt different as I walked, quieter, heavier. Every step carried intention. I wasn't moving as a lecturer enforcing boundaries.
I was moving as a man who owed honesty.
I saw her in the park almost immediately.
She sat alone on a bench beneath a tree, her posture folded inward, arms wrapped around herself like she was holding something fragile together. She wasn't crying, but she looked like she might if someone spoke to her the wrong way.
I stopped a few feet away.
Hesitated.
Took a breath.
This conversation could ruin everything.
Or it could reveal what neither of us had been ready to name.
'Erica,' I said softly, keeping my voice low to avoid drawing attention. 'We need to clear the air. Come to my office after class. Please.'
She looked up
Her eyes widening slightly, a mix of surprise and lingering hurt flickering across her face.
But she nodded, the resolve in her gaze telling me she felt the pull just as strongly.
Later that afternoon, Erica knocked on my office door, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor.
I opened it quickly, ushering her inside and locking the door behind us for privacy. I gestured to the chair opposite mine, but neither of us sat right away.
The tension hung thick in the air, charged with unspoken words.
'I can't stop thinking about what happened,' I started, running a hand through my hair. 'That kiss...
It was a mistake, but it felt right. And now, seeing you like this, disappointed, it's killing me.'
Erica stepped forward, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. 'The moment I saw you, Jackson, something shifted inside me.
I've never felt this before, not for anyone. It's like you see me, really see me, in a way no one else does.
I'm ready to love you, even with everything at stake. A student and her lecturer, it's forbidden, I know. The risks, the scandal... but my heart doesn't care about rules.'
Her words hit me like a wave, crashing over the walls I'd built around my emotions. I met her eyes, my voice rough with vulnerability.
"I feel it too, Erica. God, I do".
From the first lecture, you captivated me. But I'm terrified. I've worked my whole life for this career, this position. One wrong move, and it all crumbles. I can't drag you into that mess.'
As I spoke, pacing slightly to release the nervous energy, Erica closed the distance between us. She reached out, her fingers brushing my arm, sending sparks through my skin.
"I'm trying to understand who you truly are, Jackson. Not the lecturer, not the man bound by rules, the real you. Let me in. Can I... can I kiss you?"
I hesitated for only a heartbeat, the fear warring with desire, but her earnest plea broke me.
"Yes," I whispered, my hands finding her waist as she leaned in.
Our lips met softly at first, a tentative exploration that quickly ignited into something fierce.
Erica's mouth parted under mine, her tongue sliding against mine in a hungry dance.
I groaned into the kiss, pulling her closer until our bodies pressed flush, her curves molding against my solid frame.
The taste of her, sweet and urgent, drowned out the world outside.
Breaking away just long enough to act on instinct, I moved to the door, my fingers lingering on the lock as if to confirm our isolation.
But even as the click echoed softly, a surge of clarity cut through the haze of desire.
This was my office, her classroom in a way, boundaries that couldn't be crossed here, not like this. Not yet.
I turned back to her, my breath steadying as I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, creating just enough space between us.
Her eyes searched mine, wide with a mix of longing and uncertainty, her lips still parted from our kiss, flushed and inviting.
The warmth of her body lingered against me, a reminder of how easily this could spiral.
"Erica," I said softly, my voice even and composed, the way I'd address a colleague in a tense meeting. "This... what we're feeling, it's real. Powerful. But we can't let it take over right now. Not here."
She blinked, her hand still resting lightly on my chest, feeling the steady thrum of my heartbeat beneath her palm. 'Jackson, I..."
I shook my head gently, covering her hand with mine and guiding it down, though I didn't release it entirely.
"Listen to me. You're brilliant, passionate, and everything about you draws me in deeper every moment. But I'm your lecturer, and this office represents lines we shouldn't blur impulsively. If we give in now, it risks everything, not just my career, but your future, your focus. You deserve more than a hurried moment behind a locked door."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly under my touch, though the spark in her eyes didn't fade.
She nodded slowly, biting her lower lip as if wrestling with the same fire that burned in me.
"I know you're right. It's just... being this close to you, it makes it hard to think straight."
A small, reassuring smile tugged at my lips as I stepped back further, gesturing toward the chair but not insisting she sit.
Instead, I moved to lean against the edge of my desk, folding my arms to ground myself. "That's why we need to take this slow. Talk. Understand what this could mean for both of us. Tell me more about what you're feeling, away from the heat of the moment. Let's build something real, not just react to it."
Erica exhaled, smoothing her hands over her skirt as she met my gaze steadily.
The air between us shifted, still charged but now laced with a tentative patience, the kind that promised deeper connections if we navigated it wisely.