Periwinkle

30| BOTHERED

"I'm sorry," I choked out, my heart racing in my chest. "I didn't mean to pull you in."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was drenched and spluttering. The water was soaked through his shirt, the fabric clinging to the broad planes of his chest and shoulders. His black jeans were dripping, and the wet denim clung to his thighs, highlighting the thick bulge between his legs.

The sight of him like this sent a wave of heat surging through me despite the cold water, and my cheeks burned.

"Don't worry about it," he muttered, his voice dripping with annoyance.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and my gaze dropped to his throat. He had unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, revealing a hint of smooth, tanned skin.

"I didn't mean to do it," I repeated, a little sheepishly this time.

Fuck, I needed to get a hold on myself. This was the same person who had almost always been rude to me, the same man who could barely converse with me like a decent human and never lost an opportunity to demean me.

The same man who made me beg for him and made me cum harder than anyone ever did before.

The same guy who was supposed to be an asshole, and yet, I couldn't stop thinking about the things he said or did to me.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

The professor was quiet, the tense silence broken only by the ripple of water.

"You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?" he finally said in a low murmur.

I didn't reply since I was sure we both knew the answer to that. I didn't even know what to say. It wasn't just the awkwardness of the situation; it was the tangled web of emotions that swirled beneath the surface—the frustration from our encounter earlier in the day, the confusing mix of anger and desire I felt for this infuriating man, and the undeniable tension that still crackled between us even after that night.

I didn't know if the last part was just me, though.

"Leo was right," he said, so softly that I almost missed it.

"What?"

"He said you were clumsy the first time we met at that cafe," he explained. "He was right."

"Yeah, well," I mumbled. "I guess that's one way to describe me."

He didn't say anything, but his gaze remained fixed on me. It was as if he could see right through me, and the intensity of it made me squirm.

"Anyway, I should go," I stammered, the sudden urge to flee overwhelming. "I don't want to bother you anymore."

"Wait." His voice was firm and held a surprising edge. His hand shot out, his fingers curling around my wrist.

"What are you—"

His eyes dropped to the hand wrapped around my wrist, and his brows furrowed as if he hadn't realized what he was doing. But then his gaze snapped back up to mine, and he moved closer, his face smoothing back into his typical stoic expression. He was so close now that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and my skin tingled at his proximity.

"You're not going anywhere until we have a talk."

"We... We're talking now." I shook my head. "What do you even want to talk about?"

"You didn't give me a chance to explain myself earlier since you basically ran away from the office before I could."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't need to explain yourself. And I didn't run away. You basically dismissed me."