Chapter 2

I returned to my bedroom, the scene from earlier replaying endlessly in my mind.

That look of anguish on Stephen's face, and the complex way he looked at Barney... what the hell happened?

I grabbed my phone and dialed Stephen's number.

Ring, ring, ring... no answer.

I tried again.

Still nothing.

Leaning against the headboard, my long legs crossed, a flash of annoyance crossed my eyes.

Why wasn't Stephen answering my calls?

Just moments ago in the kitchen, his reaction had been so intense—that look in his eyes, the way his breathing quickened, and... I definitely hadn't imagined the change in his body. That soaked white shirt clinging to him, showing off his perfect muscle definition. He'd almost embraced me.

So why did he run away at the last second?

I changed out of my soaked lace set and slipped into a silk nightgown thin as gossamer. If he wouldn't answer his phone, I'd make him respond another way.

My slender fingers danced across the phone screen: "Professor, you're just going to leave me all wet like that? I kept thinking about your hands while I was in the shower..."

Send.

I smiled wickedly and started typing the next message. If he wanted to play coy, I'd show him what irresistible really meant: "This new lingerie set—is it designed for easy removal? I need you to come test the quality..."

I'd changed into a black lace set and taken a photo in the soft bedroom lighting. The angle perfectly showcased my curves, the sheer lace adding an extra layer of temptation.

Send.

I stared at my phone screen, waiting for Stephen's reply. Usually when I sent photos like this, he'd respond immediately, sometimes even calling right away.

Let's see how long you can keep up this act, Stephen Miller.

Five minutes passed. Nothing.

Ten minutes. Still silence.

I was getting impatient. Was he really going to ignore me?

Just as I was considering a third message, my phone finally buzzed.

I eagerly opened it, expecting his familiar flirtatious response, but when I read the content, I froze:

"Don't send messages like that. Barney is my teaching assistant. It's inappropriate."

I read the message again. Then again.

What the hell?

I sat up straight, frowning. Barney? My brother? What did he have to do with anything? Why was Stephen suddenly bringing up Barney? And what did he mean by "inappropriate"?

Stephen's reply made no sense, but what infuriated me more was his sanctimonious tone.

When we were together, he used to love receiving my sexy photos, always responding immediately about how much he missed me. Now he was playing the saint?

I typed furiously, my fingers pressing hard against the screen: "Stop playing the righteous gentleman! You didn't use to be like this... you used to love it when I sent you these kinds of photos. Now you're suddenly so moral?"

After sending it, I rolled over on the bed in frustration. What was this man's problem?

Had he really given up on reconciling completely?

The thought sent a sharp pain through my chest. I'd been the one to break up with him three months ago, and now I was the one reaching out, only to be rejected like this...

No, I couldn't give up that easily.

I remembered the kitchen scene—Stephen's soaked shirt clinging to his body, the desire in his eyes when he looked at me, the impulse he'd almost given in to when he nearly embraced me. None of that could have been fake.

His body's reaction wouldn't lie.

The evening sun slanted through the bedroom window. I checked the time—almost six. I decided on more direct action.

If he wanted to play proper, I'd make him completely lose control.

I changed into my latest arrival—a wine-red lace set with specially designed straps that would slip off with just a gentle pull. I filmed a short video, slowly sliding off the straps, lips slightly parted, eyes sultry.

"Want to see today's outfit choice? It comes off so easily... just needs a gentle touch..."

I knew this would make him lose it. Every time I'd done this before, Stephen would immediately drop whatever he was doing and rush to see me.

This time would be no different.

But his reply a few minutes later made me absolutely furious:

"Don't come to the university. We're over. You have Barney now."

You have Barney now?

I stared wide-eyed at the message, reading it over and over. What did Stephen mean? Barney was my brother! Half-brother, but still my brother!

Wait... he couldn't possibly think...

Suddenly, a horrible thought flashed through my mind. Earlier when Stephen was at my place, Barney had used his key to come in and saw both of us soaking wet...

Oh my God, he'd misunderstood!

I remembered Stephen's pained, jealous look when he left, and it all finally made sense. He thought Barney was my boyfriend!

No wonder he'd run away, no wonder he said it was "inappropriate," no wonder he wanted to "end" things with me!

I typed frantically: "What about Barney? What are you talking about? We need to talk, Stephen. Now."

After sending it, I paced around the room. This misunderstanding had to be cleared up immediately!

But at the same time, warmth flooded through me. Stephen's pained expression earlier, his suppressed jealousy, his concern about the teacher-student relationship... all of it proved he still cared about me.

So you thought you were stealing a student's girlfriend, which is why you were holding back.

I couldn't help but laugh. Stephen Miller, my ex-boyfriend, always known for his rationality and moral compass, had tortured himself half to death over a ridiculous misunderstanding.

My phone remained silent. I could picture him now, sitting in his office, lost in deep confusion and self-doubt.

Since you're in such agony, let me make it worse.

I checked my reflection and changed into a tight black dress. Conservative, but it hugged my curves perfectly.

Time for a trip to the university.

Some things needed to be said face to face. And seeing Stephen in that state of wanting but not daring to want... I found it quite entertaining.

I grabbed my car keys, lips curving upward.

Stephen, are you ready to face the truth?