Between the desks

Chapter 82

Amren's POV

After what felt like hours standing together on the balcony, wrapped in each other's warmth, the cool night air finally crept into our bones, prompting us to head inside. Professor Olsen—or rather, Lizzie—immediately went to the kitchen to make tea. I couldn't help but watch her, mesmerized by the effortless way she moved. She looked so at home, as if she had done this a hundred times before. The soft light from the kitchen highlighted the strands of her blondish hair, which cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. She was breathtaking, every little movement captivating my attention.

As I leaned against the counter, I smiled to myself, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. It felt domestic, comfortable—yet there was an underlying tension, a charged energy between us that I couldn't ignore. Watching her work in the kitchen, I realized just how deeply I had fallen for her.

"Here," she said softly, handing me a cup of tea. Her eyes met mine, warm and full of something unspoken. "I added a bit of cold water, but it's still hot," she added, her voice gentle. I took the cup from her hands, the warmth of it seeping into my fingers, but placed it back on the counter.

"Thank you, professor," I said, a playful grin tugging at my lips. She was adorable, and I couldn't help but tease her a little.

"You know you can call me Lizzie, right?" she replied, raising an eyebrow, her expression amused.

I chuckled softly, meeting her gaze. "I think we've reached the point where I can do that," I teased back, but something about calling her 'professor' still felt... thrilling.

Lizzie snorted, rolling her eyes at me in that way she did when she was being playful. "You sure are cheeky tonight."

"Well, professor just sounds so good. Especially when you wear that suit—you're very... professorish," I said, my grin growing wider, unable to resist flirting. Her lips curved into a smile, and for a moment, she looked flustered, a slight blush creeping across her cheeks.

"Should I dress more casually next time?" she asked, half-serious, though I could tell she was teasing me back.

"Oh god no," I blurted out before I could stop myself, laughing as I realized how eager I sounded. "You look hot in suits."

Lizzie laughed, the sound rich and genuine, filling the small space between us. My own laughter followed, though I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, her voice dropping a little lower, more seductive. Her words sent a shiver through me, awakening that tension again. I swallowed hard, trying to calm the butterflies that were now swirling furiously in my stomach.

We sat down with our tea, chatting easily about everything and nothing. The conversation flowed naturally, filled with teasing remarks and shared glances that lingered just a little too long. I felt so comfortable around her, yet every touch, every look, made my heart race.

Before I knew it, the clock struck 10 p.m., and Lizzie glanced at the time, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. "It's already late," she said softly, her tone light but tinged with regret. "I should probably head home."

I felt a pang of disappointment in my chest. I didn't want her to leave, not yet. But I forced a smile and stood up, walking her to the door. "Okay," I said, my voice soft as I tried to hide how much I wanted her to stay.

As we reached the front door, I turned to her, feeling that familiar pull between us. "Text me when you get home, okay?" I said, not wanting to break the connection just yet.

"I will," she reassured me, her smile warm. But before she could walk out, I impulsively grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. The tension that had been building between us all night reached its peak. Her hand came up to touch my cheek, her thumb brushing softly against my skin. Our eyes locked, and I could see the same need, the same desire reflected in hers.

She leaned in, slowly, deliberately, and when her lips finally met mine, it was like everything else melted away. The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as if we were both savoring the moment. But then, the spark ignited. The kiss deepened, becoming more intense, more urgent. Her lips moved against mine with a deliberate hunger, and I responded in kind, losing myself in the feel of her.

Her dominance took over, guiding the kiss as our tongues met in a slow, sensual dance. The only sound in the room was our breathing, growing more ragged with every second. My hands found their way to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, and her fingers tangled in my hair, sending a surge of heat through me.

When we finally pulled apart, gasping for air, her lips were swollen from the kiss, her cheeks flushed, and she looked absolutely stunning. I took a mental snapshot of her like this—flushed, breathless, and perfect. I knew I'd replay this moment over and over in my mind.

"Goodnight, Amren," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the intensity of the kiss. Her hand squeezed mine, and I held on for just a second longer, reluctant to let her go.

"Goodnight, Lizzie," I replied, her name rolling off my tongue with a warmth that made my heart swell. She smiled, a genuine, soft smile, before turning to leave.

As she walked down the hallway, she turned back three times to wave, each time making my heart skip a beat. I waved back, unable to hide the giddy smile spreading across my face. I didn't go back inside until the elevator doors closed behind her, the final wave sealing the night with a quiet promise of more to come.