The bonfire crackled, sending waves of heat through the cool night air. Someone strummed a guitar, their off-key singing blending with the crash of waves against the shore. Students huddled near the fire, passing around bottles of beer, laughter spilling into the night.

I hadn’t even planned on coming.

Liv had begged me, promising a “chill beach night” with her cousin and his friends—locals, not students. She’d failed to mention it was more of a party. And she definitely hadn’t mentioned him.

Professor Hayes.

The first time I spotted him, I nearly choked on my drink. He stood near the dunes, talking with one of the older guys. Dressed in jeans and a fitted dark T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest, he looked nothing like the man who lectured about Baroque art in class. Yet the sharp cut of his jaw, tousled waves of dark hair, and piercing blue eyes were unmistakable.

I shouldn’t have been staring. But God, I couldn’t help it.

He was a lot older than me—seasoned, experienced, the kind of man who had stories to tell. Even in the flickering firelight, his presence was magnetic. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he had noticed me too.

His gaze skimmed over my legs when I shifted in my seat, the short hem of my skirt riding up just a bit higher. It was quick—just a flicker—but I caught it. And when he moved toward the fire and lowered himself onto the sand, not far from me, the barest hint of a smirk played on his lips.

Liv leaned in, her voice teasing. “You’re staring.”

“No, I’m not,” I shot back, dragging my gaze to the fire.

She giggled. “Right. And I guess he’s not looking at you either?”

I risked another glance. He was listening to someone talk, nodding occasionally, but his posture—relaxed yet aware—made my stomach twist. Like he felt me watching him. Like he liked it.

“What’s he even doing here?” I murmured.

Liv shrugged. “He knows Jake—my cousin’s friend. They hike together or something.” She wiggled her brows. “Small world, huh?”

Too small.

The party grew louder, music pulsing in the background. A few people wandered down to the water’s edge, the bonfire’s glow casting long shadows in the sand. Professor Hayes—or Trent, as I heard someone call him—remained seated, his eyes flicking toward me every so often, lingering just a little too long.

When he stood up and started walking over, my breath caught. The sand shifted under his boots as he stopped in front of me, blocking out the firelight. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I nodded, my throat tight. “Sure, Professor Hayes.”

His lips curved slightly. “Trent.”

I swallowed hard. His name felt almost intimate on my tongue. He settled down beside me, his arm brushing against mine, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through my body.

"You don’t have to be so formal," he murmured. "It’s a party, not a classroom."

I let out a nervous laugh. "Right. It’s just… weird, seeing you here."

Trent chuckled, his gaze drifting to the waves. “You’re surprised?”

“A little. You seem more like a wine-and-jazz kind of guy.”

His smirk deepened. “You’re not wrong.” He looked at me then, really looked, his blue eyes sharp and unreadable. “And you? Are you enjoying yourself?”

I hesitated. “I wasn’t sure I’d stay long.”

His gaze dipped briefly to my mouth before meeting my eyes again. “Maybe you should.”

The words sent heat spiraling through me.

The fire crackled, laughter rang out around us, but suddenly, none of it mattered. It was just him. Just us. And the undeniable electricity thickening the air between us.

And when he leaned in just slightly—so close I could smell the faintest hint of whiskey on his breath—I knew this night wasn’t ending the way I thought it would.

Not even close.

As our lips met, the heat from the bonfire felt like nothing compared to the fire igniting inside me. His mouth was firm yet tender, tasting faintly of whiskey and mint. His hand slid around the back of my neck, pulling me closer, as if we were drawn together by some invisible force. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate, as we explored each other—his tongue meeting mine, our breaths merging in a rhythm of its own.

The world around us blurred, the firelight casting flickering shadows as the distant laughter and crackling wood faded into a white noise symphony. It was just the two of us, lost in a universe of sensation. His thumb gently circled the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I leaned into him, my hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my fingertips.

Our kiss grew hotter, more ravenous, until the initial spark became an all-consuming fire. His mouth was demanding yet soft, a perfect balance of passion and restraint that made me ache for more. I could feel the heat of his body through his shirt, the solid muscles beneath it, and I wanted nothing more than to be closer—to lose myself in this moment forever.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, cradling his jaw as the kiss deepened, our bodies pressing closer, fitting together like they had been made to. Trent’s hand moved from my neck to my waist, pulling me in tighter. His touch was warm through my shirt, his thumb stroking my skin in a rhythmic, hypnotic pattern that made me crave more. The heat between us seemed to cocoon us from everything else.

His tongue danced deeper, exploring me with a hunger that matched my own. One of his hands found its way to the small of my back, pressing me further into him. I could feel the steady beat of his heart against mine, syncing with the pounding rhythm in my chest. Every inch of our bodies connected in a way that felt like it was meant to be.

As the kiss continued, I became acutely aware of the softness of his lips, the slight scratch of his five-o’clock shadow grazing my skin. His scent—fresh, like the ocean, yet unmistakably him—wrapped around me, intoxicating me further. The taste of whiskey lingered, enhancing the intensity of the moment.

Trent’s hand traced a line up my spine, sending electric jolts of pleasure through me. His touch was firm yet gentle, leaving warmth in its wake. My body responded without hesitation, arching toward him, desperate for more. His other hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone with a tenderness that made my heart race even faster.

The kiss should have never happened.

That was the first thought I had when I woke up the next morning, lips still tingling from where Trent had claimed them.

The second thought?

I wanted more.

Every glance felt like an invitation, every accidental touch a spark begging to ignite. I knew I shouldn’t want this—shouldn’t want him. I’d never been the type to cross boundaries, to chase something forbidden. But with Trent, it was different. He was magnetic, pulling me in with every sideways look, every softly spoken word that left my heart fluttering.

He was struggling, I could tell—trying to maintain the space between us, both physically and emotionally. But the more he resisted, the more I pushed forward, drawn to the fire I knew smoldered beneath his carefully composed exterior.

In class, his attention came in fragments—a lingering look, the deliberate brush of his fingers as he passed back my graded paper, the way he hesitated just a second too long when our eyes met. It was maddening. Every flicker of restraint only fueled my desire to see how far I could push him before he snapped.

The bonfire had been the beginning—one kiss that neither of us could walk away from. After that night, everything shifted. Stolen glances in the hallway. Fingers grazing when he handed me an assignment. His eyes darkening when I licked my lips.

He was trying so hard to resist. I saw it in the way his jaw tightened when I sat too close. The way he forced himself to look away when I stretched just a little too much in my seat, my skirt riding up just enough to test his control.

But I didn’t want him to hold back.
I wanted to break him.
And I did.

It happened after class, the tension snapping like a live wire.

Everyone else had left, but I lingered, pretending to take extra notes, pretending I had a question about the material when, really, I just wanted to be alone with him. I got up and stood in front of his desk, close enough where I could smell his woodsy cologne. Just the smell made my panties wet.

Trent stood behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, fingers drumming against the wood like he was trying to hold himself together. His black dress shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the top button undone, giving him an effortlessly undone look that made my stomach flip. His forearms were strong, veins corded beneath inked skin, the intricate tattoos winding over his muscles like a story waiting to be read. The dim lighting cast shadows that only emphasized the sharp lines of his body, the restrained power in the way he held himself—like a man at war with his own desire.

“You should go,” he muttered, voice tight.

I didn’t move. “Do you want me to?”

His fingers stopped.

For a long moment, he just looked at me—really looked at me—like he was weighing the consequences, fighting himself.

Then, in a single breath, he lost.

He crossed the space between us in seconds, caging me against the desk.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he rasped, his lips a whisper away from mine.

I met his gaze, heart pounding. “Yes, I do.”

And then I kissed him.

Hard.

His control shattered.

One second, I was standing. The next, I was lifted onto his desk, my legs parting as he stepped between them.

His mouth was everywhere—my neck, my jaw, my collarbone—hot, desperate, like he’d been starving for this, for me.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered against my skin, his hands trailing up my thighs, fingers teasing under the hem of my skirt.

I gasped, arching into him, fingers tangling in his hair. “Then stop holding back.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat.

And just like that, all restraint was gone.

I couldn’t find the words. All I could do was breathe him in—the scent of him, warm and intoxicating, mixed with the faint musk of his cologne. My heart pounded in my chest as his hands moved up my body, his fingers grazing over the soft fabric of my shirt, teasing the skin underneath.

“Trent…”

His name left my lips in a breathless whisper, and it was like the final push he needed. His lips crashed against mine, hard and hungry, as if he’d been starving for this moment, for me. His kiss was desperate, claiming, and I melted into it, my hands sliding into his hair, tugging him closer, urging him to take more.

I could feel the heat building between us, a tension so thick I could hardly breathe. His hands found the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head in one smooth motion, exposing the soft curves of my body to his hungry gaze. My breasts spilled over the top of my black lace bra, my nipples hard and puckered waiting for his hot mouth.

I was trembling, nervous, but I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice hoarse, his hands lingering, as if waiting for my permission.

For a moment, I froze, my mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. This was my professor. This wasn’t supposed to happen. And I’d never been with a man before. I hadn’t pictured my first time on a hard desk in the middle of a classroom. But the way he looked at me, the heat in his eyes—it was too much.

“Yes,” I breathed, my voice shaky but resolute. “I’m sure.”

And that was all it took.

His hands moved lower, slipping up my bare thighs, inching closer to the hem of my skirt, his touch warm and insistent. I gasped, my back arching toward him as if my body already knew what it wanted.

He paused, eyes flicking to mine. “You’re mine, you know that, right?”

I nodded, unable to form words, my entire body alive with the raw need pulsing between us.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands moving with more purpose, more demand, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. My fingers fumbled with his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, to pull him closer. Buttons scattered across the floor as I tore his shirt and he tossed it aside. God he was gorgeous. His lips traced down my neck, my chest, his tongue leaving a trail of fire behind. He pulled the cups of my bra down and my breasts spilled up. 

A low growl erupted from his throat as his warm mouth latched onto my nipple, suckling. I gasped and cradled his head as I wrapped my legs around his waist and ground my center against his hard cock.

The fabric of his pants was rough against my skin, and I could feel the heat of his erection. The anticipation was killing me. I needed him inside of me. Now. I reached down and undid his belt buckle, his zipper, my hands trembling.

He stepped back for a moment, his eyes never leaving mine, and let his pants fall to the floor. His boxers followed. His cock sprang free, thick and hard and perfect. I licked my lips, unable to take my eyes off it.