Chapter 3
Stella:
I kept my eyes locked on my laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I was staring at a blank email draft, the cursor blinking mockingly at me.
"I was wondering if I could get your contact information." His voice carried that same easy confidence. "For office hours. Academic questions."
My hands stilled.
I glanced up briefly. He stood a few feet away, one hand shoved in his hoodie pocket. Casual. Patient.
"The university website has my email address," I said, my voice crisp. "Office hours are Tuesdays and Thursdays, two to four PM."
He shifted his weight, then moved closer. Close enough that I could smell that clean soap scent again. He leaned down, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper.
"What about your cell? In case I need to reach you after hours?" His breath ghosted against my ear. "Maybe discuss what I saw that morning. Like that black lace bra. Or how good your tits looked in it."
I jerked back, my face flaming. "Mr. Carter—"
"Just saying, Professor." He straightened, voice returning to normal volume, that infuriating smile playing at his lips. "Might be easier to have direct contact. For academic purposes, of course."
"Email is sufficient," I managed, my voice tight.
He leaned in again, even closer this time. "You know, I got a pretty good look at everything that morning. Your whole body. Every curve." His voice was a low murmur meant only for me. "If it makes you feel better, I can let you look too. Touch, even. Make it fair. Would that settle your guilt about the money?"
My breath caught. "Get. Out."
"See you in class, Professor." He walked away, that easy confidence never faltering.
Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzed.
Zoe: SOS. Need you at the venue ASAP. Florist is threatening to walk.
I typed back: On my way.
My work email pinged.
From: noah.carter@scu.edu
Subject: Quick Question
I shouldn't open it.
I opened it.
Professor Morrison,
Quick question about today's lecture—you said the person who left money was the one with issues. But from where I was lying, waking up alone with six hundred dollars felt less like payment and more like an insult.
Especially after spending the night with you pressed against me. I felt everything, by the way. Every curve. Every breath. The way your body fit against mine.
And that morning? I saw everything when you were getting dressed. The black lace. The way your bra barely contained your breasts. Your whole body. I memorized every inch.
So here's my offer: you got to see me shirtless. I saw you in your underwear. How about we make it even? Next time you're feeling guilty, you can look all you want. Touch too, if that helps. Consider it settling the debt.
Just want to make sure I understood the lecture correctly.
Noah Carter
P.S. - Do you take walk-ins during office hours? Or should I schedule private sessions?
I stared at the screen, my hands shaking.
Carter.
Zoe's last name was Carter.
No. No, no, no.
The universe wasn't that cruel.
I grabbed my bag and ran.
The Rosewood Hotel was chaos. Zoe stood in the middle, phone pressed to her ear.
"Stella, thank God." She rushed over. "The florist is—hold on." She turned back to her phone. "No, roses are not peonies. Find me peonies or find me a new florist."
She hung up. "I'm going to have a breakdown."
"Deep breath," I said. "What do you need?"
"Can you check on the—"
"Zoe!"
A male voice called from across the room, and I turned automatically.
My heart stopped.
Noah Carter walked through the doorway, carrying boxes. Same hoodie. Same mussed hair. Same easy grin when he saw his sister.
"Where do you want these?"
No.
"Noah! You're early." She paused, following my frozen stare. "Oh! Stella, you haven't met my baby brother yet, have you?"
Noah's eyes found mine.
The grin widened.
"Actually," he said, walking toward us, "Professor Morrison and I have already met."
The floor tilted.
"You have?" Zoe looked delighted. "That's perfect! Noah's taking psychology. I told him he should use your office hours."
"We're in the same class," Noah said, stopping close. Too close. "Eight AM section. She's an incredible lecturer. Really knows how to make a point."
My throat went dry.
"Small world," I managed.
"Isn't it?" His smile was all teeth. "And here I thought I'd never see you again after that night."
Zoe laughed. "What night?"
"The night we met," Noah said smoothly. "At that hotel downtown. I helped Professor Morrison find her way back to her room. She'd had a rough evening."
My face burned.
"That's so sweet!" Zoe beamed. "See? I told you he's a good kid."
"A real gentleman," I said through clenched teeth.
"I try." Noah's grin widened. "Though I didn't realize the woman I was helping—the one who grabbed onto me like I was the only solid thing in the room—was going to end up being my professor."
"This is amazing!" Zoe clapped her hands. "Stella, you can keep an eye on him for me." She turned to Noah. "And you—be nice to her. Stella's doing me a huge favor."
"Oh, I'm always nice," Noah said. "Right, Professor?"
"Well, good." Zoe's phone rang. "I have to take this. Stella, can you show Noah where to set up the chairs? Storage room's down the hall. Noah, do whatever she says."
She disappeared.
Leaving me alone with Noah Carter.
Zoe's brother.
My student.
The boy from the hotel room.
