Kiara Mehta never expected her final year at university to turn into a whirlwind of temptation and desire. When the dangerously charming Agastya Agarwal steps in as an intern professor, he becomes the center of every whispered conversation and stole...
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The silence that followed their reckless decision wasn’t comforting, it was deafening. Kiara sat on Agastya’s lap, her bare skin pressed against his, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. His hands rested on her waist, firm yet hesitant, as if he was still battling himself.
She could feel his heartbeat against her palm, fast and erratic, matching the wild rhythm of her own.
Agastya exhaled sharply, his fingers tracing absent patterns along her spine. "This is getting out of control," he murmured, his voice husky, his restraint hanging by a thread.
Kiara smirked, her fingers playing with the collar of his unbuttoned shirt. "Then stop me."
His dark gaze snapped to hers, something unreadable flickering in his expression. "You think I can?"
She leaned in, brushing her lips against his jaw, a teasing ghost of a touch. "I don’t think you want to."
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he gripped her tighter. "You’re making this impossible."
Kiara tilted her head, her breath hot against his ear. "Good."
He cursed under his breath, his hold on her tightening as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. She shivered when his lips brushed over her skin, slow, deliberate, igniting a fire she didn’t want to put out.
Her fingers trailed down his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "Tell me to stop, Agastya," she challenged softly.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he flipped her onto her back, pressing her into the couch, his weight pinning her down. His eyes darkened as he stared at her, his expression torn between frustration and raw desire.
"You don’t understand what you’re doing to me," he admitted, his voice strained.
Kiara reached up, tracing her fingers along his jaw, her touch featherlight. "Then show me."
That was all it took.
His lips crashed onto hers, urgent and demanding, his hands roaming over her body like he was trying to memorize every inch of her. She gasped as he trailed kisses down her throat, his touch setting her skin ablaze.
The world outside his office didn’t exist.
There was no university.
No rules.
No consequences.
Just them.
Her nails dug into his shoulders as he pulled her closer, their bodies molding together in a way that felt inevitable. Every touch, every whispered name, every desperate sigh it was dangerous. Addictive.
And neither of them wanted to stop.
But reality wasn’t kind.
Kiara was still catching her breath when the sharp sound of Agastya’s phone vibrating shattered the moment.
He stiffened above her, his expression darkening as he reached for it. One glance at the screen, and his entire demeanor changed.
His jaw clenched.
His body tensed.
Kiara frowned. "What is it?"
Agastya hesitated before answering. "The Dean."
A wave of cold reality crashed over her.
Kiara sat up, clutching the fabric of her discarded shirt, suddenly feeling exposed in more ways than one. "Do you think...?"
"No," he cut her off, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "But we need to be careful."
Her stomach twisted.
Careful.
Because what they had just done, what they had been doing, wasn’t just reckless. It was forbidden.
Agastya stood, running a hand through his messy hair before buttoning up his shirt with jerky movements. Kiara watched him, something tightening in her chest.
She had known what she was getting into.
But now, as she sat there, watching the weight of reality settle over him, she wondered.
How much longer could they do this before everything came crashing down? ______________________
