Periwinkle

27| STUPID LITTLE CRUSH

As much as I tried not to, I couldn't help but think about how it would feel to be with him completely if what we did that day in his office was so intense. And we hadn't even touched each other.

I had thought that the stupid little crush I had on him would go away after what happened the other day. No such luck, apparently. If anything, it had just intensified. The way he'd taken control, the way he'd teased me, the way he struck me with that belt, the way he'd come all over me...

I needed to stop.

As I was waiting for the professor to enter the class, I started idly doodling in my notebook in an attempt to distract myself. But it wasn't working. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, and my focus was shot to shit. I hadn't been able to sleep well since the encounter. All I could think about was him.

Today was the first time I was about to see him after that night, and I was hoping that I'd be able to talk to him or even look at him without remembering what happened. I wasn't sure if that would happen, but I wanted to try. Because if I wasn't able to make it through one lecture, how was I going to go through the entire semester like this?

A few moments later, the door opened, and Professor Carver entered the classroom with a stack of papers in his hand. His hair was messy and windswept, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the lean muscles of his forearms. His dark grey shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a sliver of tanned skin. I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks as he strode into the room, and I couldn't help but think about what he'd look like without his shirt.

It wasn't fair that he got to see me completely naked, but I hadn't even seen him shirtless. It wasn't fair that I hadn't gotten the chance to touch him, to feel his skin against mine, to taste him.

I shifted in my seat, the burn from the belt marks on my ass a painful reminder of what happened. It was a good reminder. But, fuck, it was also distracting as hell.

The professor cleared his throat. "Alright, class. We have a special guest today who has generously offered to speak to you about art, art history, and what it means to be a true collector."

Collector. My ears perked up at the word, and a quick glance around the classroom told me that the word was a source of great interest to many others.

Professor Carver gestured towards the door, and a man who looked like he was in his early thirties with dark, tousled hair and deep brown eyes walked into the room. He had a handsome face and was dressed in a simple black suit, white shirt, and blue tie. His hair was swept back from his face, and his features were angular, lending him a boyish air even though he had a strong jawline and a hint of a beard.

"This is Adrien Dubois," Professor Carver said, and a collective gasp resounded through the room.

The name was vaguely familiar. I knew the surname was famous and that there were several billionaires who bore that last name, but I couldn't recall if this man was related to any of them.

"He is the founder and owner of DuBois' Art Gallery, one of the most prestigious art galleries in the world." Professor Carver glanced at the guest and then at the students. His lips twitched slightly at the gasps, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. Mr. Dubois, however, seemed completely unfazed by the reaction. He offered a charming smile, the kind that made women swoon.

"I've known him since college. He's an excellent friend and an even better art dealer. And he's agreed to give a short presentation on art collecting, something that is crucial for a student of fine arts to understand." Professor Carver's gaze traveled around the room. "Please show him the same respect and attention that you show me."