Chapter 2 Double-Meaning Talk
Iva’s P.O.V.
At night, I’m lying on my bed, pressing a vibrator wand against my pussy with one hand, completely lost in the pleasure. I clutch the mattress with my free hand, moaning.
At the age of 30, being single feels so frustrating. There’s no one waiting for you when you return home from work and there’s no one to satisfy your desires.
I don’t get to know when my mind wanders to the thoughts of Will. The handsome young man who has been driving me crazy since my eyes landed on him. I felt like he was baring me through his eyes.
During the entire lecture, I felt a strong pull between us. Although I didn’t look at him again during the class, I could feel his eyes on me the whole time.
I don’t get to know when I start imagining him crawling between my legs on the bed with a sexy smirk on his face. As he buries his face into me, I come out of my imagination.
“Fuck! Iva, he is your student. Stop fantasising about him like this.” I pull away the wand, and after switching it off, I hurl it beside me, frustrated.
How can I imagine my student like this? This is so wrong. So damn dirty. What’s happening to me? How can I even think something like that?
I pull my hair, feeling so damn irked.
I stand outside the classroom, trying not to think about what I imagined last night. God! I don’t know how I’m going to face Will after imagining him like that.
Iva, you can’t stand here forever. You have to face him.
After taking a deep breath, I finally enter the room and my eyes fall on him directly.
Will. My student, who has been driving me crazy since yesterday.
Fuck! Why is he so fucking handsome? And when do I start getting attracted towards the guy younger than me?
He is sitting on the first desk in the middle row, looking like a model come out of a magazine. The way his deep grey eyes are scanning me, my body is heating up with desire.
What is he doing to me?
A girl student sitting beside him calls him, and as his eyes move away from me, I finally take a breath of relief.
His mere gaze is enough to set my body on fire.
I place my handbag on the table and turn towards the blackboard to write today’s topic, promising myself that I’m not going to look at him again.
As I write, I can again feel his eyes on my back. I glance backward at him and like I expected, I find him watching me.
Not just watching, he’s undressing me with his eyes like yesterday. Slowly. Thoroughly.
Somebody please stop him.
I immediately turn my gaze back to the blackboard, gripping the chalk tighter. My breath is shaky, and I silently curse myself for letting him affect me like this.
Focus, Iva. You’re a professor, and he’s your student. Stop getting flustered like a schoolgirl.
I clear my throat and turn to the class after composing myself. “Today, we’ll start with the topic: Communication Skills.”
Will shifts in his seat, arms crossed, that smirk growing wider. I try not to look at him, but I fail. Terribly.
I don’t want to look at him, but my eyes keep wandering to him automatically. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. Why can’t I focus on anything except him?
I continue after clearing my throat. “Communication isn’t just about speaking. It’s about listening, understanding… and connection.”
It’s getting hard to even speak properly under his intense, burning gaze.
He raises a brow, interrupting. “So… are you saying connection is the most important part?”
The way he says connection sends a shiver down my spine. My throat goes dry, but I nod.
Literally nobody affected me like this before.
“Yes. Without real connection, words lose their meaning,” I answer.
Will leans forward. “And what if someone feels… a very strong connection, but can’t say it out loud?”
Some students chuckle at the way he says it, but I know he’s not talking about some fictional example. He’s looking at me. Straight into me. I know he’s talking about the connection between us, the one we’ve both felt since the moment our eyes met.
I keep my face as neutral as possible. “Then body language becomes key. Eye contact, tone, gestures… they say what words can’t.”
He brushes his tongue over his lower lip slowly and deliberately, then lets his gaze drop, just for a heartbeat, to my body before meeting my eyes again. “So, if I look at someone… a certain way, and they understand exactly what I mean… that counts?”
I freeze for a second too long.
The room fades around me. It’s just me and him now. His dark gaze. That smirk. The meaning behind his words.
God help me.
I swallow and manage a steady tone, even though my hands are trembling slightly. “Yes, Will. That counts. Communication isn’t always verbal.”
A few students nod like they’re following the topic. But I know this is no ordinary discussion. This is him, teasing me with every line, knowing very well what he’s doing.
“Good.” He moves back. “I’m more of a show-don’t-tell kind of guy anyway, Professor.”
Professor.
The word on his tongue sounds so seductive. I’m getting wet. Fuck!
I look away. “Let’s stick to words for now,” I say in a stern tone.
As he chuckles, my heart almost stops. He looks even more handsome. Damn! Why do I feel like I could keep looking at him forever?
What is this boy doing to me?
I continue teaching, but I can still feel his eyes on me like a touch I can’t shake off. My body feels too warm and my thoughts are too messy.
This has to stop.
But a part of me… doesn’t want it to.
At night, I’m lying on my bed, trying to sleep, but all I can think about is that boy with the grey eyes. His double-meaning talk during the lecture still echo in my mind. The way he said “Professor” today, sounded so intense, so sinful. That one word keeps ringing in my ears.
Why the hell am I getting attracted to a younger guy?
To be honest, he’s hot as hell, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him the entire time.
I grab my phone from the nightstand, unlock it, and without a second thought, I open Instagram and search for his profile. I don’t know what’s happening to me. He holds some kind of unspoken power over me. It’s like he’s inside my head… controlling every thought.
I find his profile and click on it before I can stop myself. His bio hits me like a jolt:
“Control isn’t given. It’s taken. I take.”
God.
The words alone make my core clench. I press my thighs together, trying to ease the growing ache between them.
I scroll down and open his first picture. He’s wearing black, head to toe, and looking like sin in human form. My eyes stay glued to the screen. Damn, he’s so handsome.
Then I swipe to the second picture, and my breath catches.
Half-naked.
His sculpted chest, the sharp lines of his abs, the way his body speaks of strength and dominance. I bite my bottom lip, staring at him shamelessly. The intensity in his expression… it sends shivers down my spine. And those eyes, dark, unreadable, yet burning with something wild, make me nervous in a way I’ve never felt before.
What is this boy doing to me?
Will Wilson… what the hell are you doing to me?
I’ve been stalking him for over half an hour now, staring at every single picture like he’s some Greek god.
Damn. He’s perfect, from head to toe.
Fuck. Shit. What have you done, Iva?
I suddenly sit up on the bed, eyes wide, still staring at my phone in shock.
While scrolling through his profile, I accidentally double-tapped one of his pictures. My heart jumps into my throat.
I quickly unlike it without thinking twice, then slam the power button and toss my phone onto the bed like it has just burned me.
What if he saw it?
What will he think of me? That I was stalking him… drooling over his pictures like some desperate idiot?
Yes, it’s true that he’s driving me crazy, but he doesn’t need to know that. He shouldn’t know that.
Get it together, Iva. Stop acting like some college girl. You’re his professor. He’s just your student.
Stop fantasising about him.
Stop thinking about him.
And for God’s sake, go to sleep.
You have to face him again tomorrow.