Page 17 of The Naughty Professor

Chapter Fifteen

Jax

I’d barely made it through the bedroom doorway before Thorne’s back hit the wall. The look in his eyes wasn’t fear—it was disbelief, the kind that comes from wanting something too much and realizing it’s already happening.

For a second, neither of us moved. The world had gone quiet except for the sound of our breathing and the faint hum of the city through the windows. His shirt was open just enough to show the pulse at his throat.

“Hey,” I whispered, brushing my thumb along his jaw. “You okay?”

He nodded, though his chest rose and fell too fast. “I—yeah. It’s just…” He exhaled, the sound shaky. “It’s been a long time.”

“How long?”

“Since my divorce.” His voice cracked on the word. “I really want this. I want you. But—”

I pressed a finger to his lips. “No ‘buts,’ Professor. Just us.”

Something in him loosened. His shoulders dropped, and he looked at me like I’d just given him permission to breathe.

“This is gonna be a night you’ll never forget,” I promised.

I stepped back, just enough for him to see me. The lamp beside the bed threw a soft glow across the room, painting everything gold. I slipped out of my shirt first, the gauzy black fabric falling away like smoke. His gaze followed the motion, hungry and reverent all at once.

Then the boots, the jeans, slow, steady movements that made the silence thrum. His eyes tracked every inch, and for a heartbeat, the air between us felt alive—like static before lightning.

When I finally stood bare before him, he didn’t speak. He just looked. The professor mask was gone; what was left was raw and human and wanting.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He did.

I caught his face in my hands and kissed him—gentler this time, letting him taste the promise in it, the steadiness beneath the fire. His hands came up to my waist, tentative at first, then surer, stronger.

We moved together toward the bed, slow steps that felt like crossing some invisible line. When his knees hit the mattress, I eased him back onto it, the sheets rustling beneath us. He lay there, chest rising, eyes dark with something between awe and fear.

“Let me,” I murmured.

I leaned over him, kissed the corner of his mouth, then the hollow of his throat. He shivered. My fingers found the buttons of his shirt, working them open one by one, unwrapping him like something precious. Each button felt like a breath, a heartbeat, a small surrender.

When I reached the last one, I paused, looked up at him.

“You’re sure?” I asked.

His answer came out in a whisper, rough but certain. “Yes.”

I pulled his shirt off and then dropped it on the floor. I heard his shoes drop, then I pressed my hand against his erection, stretching the front of his jeans. Thorne’s breath shuddered, then I pulled the zipper down, and smiled.

“I’ve dreamt about this moment,” I breathed, and for a second I felt dizzy.

I pulled his pants down, dropped them to the floor, then his boxer briefs.

His thick cock was like a work of art. I grabbed it firmly, feeling the heat of it against my palm.

Thorne gasped, his hips arching up to meet my touch.

I stroked him slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure, his lips parting as he struggled to keep his moans at bay.

“Lie back,” I instructed, my voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the room. He complied, his body sinking into the mattress, every muscle in his body taut with anticipation.

I trailed kisses down his chest, lingering on each nipple, flicking my tongue over the sensitive flesh until he was squirming beneath me.

Thorne’s fingers threaded through my hair, tugging gently as I moved lower, my breath hot against his skin.

I felt tremors running through him, the way his body begged for more even as his mind reeled from the intensity of the moment.

“Please,” he whispered, the word barely audible. It was a plea, a surrender, and it ignited something primal within me.

I took him into my mouth, and his entire body jerked as if electrified. I worked him with long, sure strokes, my tongue teasing the underside of his shaft, my hand cupping and massaging his balls. His taste, his scent, the ragged sounds he made—it was intoxicating.

Thorne was lost in sensation, his control unraveling with every passing second. I could sense him reaching the edge, his body tense, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained.

I looked up at him, our eyes meeting, and I slowed my movements, drawing out the moment, keeping him on the precipice. I wanted this to last, for him to feel every exquisite second.

“Not yet,” I said, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. “I want to feel you come undone with me inside you.”

“Wait,” Thorne gasped. “Let me taste you too. I don’t want this to be over so soon.

” His words hung in the air, a plea that resonated with my thrumming desire.

I nodded, a silent agreement and shifted my position, straddling his chest so that we were face to face, my cock inches from his parted lips.

Thorne’s eyes darkened with need, and he lifted his head slightly, his breath a warm whisper against my sensitive skin.

Slowly, he extended his tongue, teasing the tip along my length, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through me.

I let out a low moan, my hand instinctively reaching down to tangle in his hair, guiding him but not forcing, allowing him to set the pace.

Thorne opened his mouth wider, taking me in, and the sensation of his wet heat enveloping me was nearly overwhelming.

I watched him, the way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his throat worked as he took me deeper, the way his hands gripped my thighs for balance.

I could feel the tension building within me, but I held back, wanting to savor this moment, to draw out our pleasure until we were both mindless with it.

“Enough,” I whispered, pulling away. “I need to be inside you.”

Thorne nodded, his lips swollen, his eyes glazed with desire. “I bought condoms and stuff a few months ago after my friend — shit, never mind. They’re in the top drawer of the nightstand.”

I reached over to the nightstand, fumbling slightly with the drawer in my eagerness. Inside, I found the unopened box of condoms and a small bottle of lube.

Thorne watched me, his gaze heated and hungry, as I tore open the condom wrapper with my teeth. I rolled the latex down my length, then coated myself liberally with lube. His breath hitched as I slicked my fingers and reached between his legs, teasing his entrance.

“Relax,” I whispered, kissing him deeply as I circled the sensitive ring of muscle. He melted into the kiss, his body yielding to my touch. When I pressed inside, he tensed for a fraction of a second before relaxing again, a soft moan escaping his lips.

I took my time, stretching him gently, adding another finger when he was ready. His hips rocked in time with my movements, his need for more than my fingers evident in every breath and moan.

“Please,” Thorne begged again, his voice thick with desire. “I’m ready.”

I positioned myself between his legs, the head of my cock nudging against him. Our eyes locked as I slowly pushed forward, both of us holding our breath as I entered him. The tight heat of his body enveloped me, and for a moment, I couldn’t move, overwhelmed by the intensity of the connection.

Then Thorne’s legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper, and any remaining control I had shattered.

I began to move, each thrust punctuated by our mingled gasps and the creaking of the bed beneath us.

The world narrowed to the man beneath me, to the feel of his body, to the desperate, hungry way he met each of my thrusts.

“Harder,” Thorne urged, his voice a guttural growl that spurred me on. I drove into him with renewed vigor, our bodies slapping together in a steady rhythm.

Suddenly the rhythm between us stuttered, and the world tilted.

The air turned thin, unsteady, the edges of the room blurring into light and shadow.

A wave of dizziness rolled through me, so sharp it almost broke the spell.

I looked down and saw Thorne’s face—flushed, eyes half-closed, lips parted in a sound I couldn’t quite hear—and something inside me twisted.

It felt wrong, or too right, or both at once.

How did I get here? What am I doing?

The air felt charged, heavy, as if the walls themselves had taken a breath and were waiting for me to remember who I was.

“Did you feel that?” I asked, my voice barely more than a breath.

Thorne’s hands gripped my shoulders with a newfound urgency. “Yes,” he gasped. “Don’t stop.”

The plea in his voice was my undoing. I thrust into him again, harder, deeper, as if I could meld us together forever. The bedframe creaked in protest, but we were beyond hearing, beyond anything but the exquisite friction between us.

Our bodies were slick with sweat, and I felt Thorne’s erection pressed between us, hard and insistent. I reached down, wrapped my hand around him, and matched the rhythm of my thrusts with the strokes of my hand.

Thorne’s head fell back, his throat working as he cried out my name. It was a sound that resonated deep within me, a sound I wanted to hear over and over again. His body tightened around me, the muscles of his channel fluttering with the telltale signs of his impending release.

“I’m... I’m going to...” Thorne’s words dissolved into a series of broken moans as his climax tore through him. Hot, wet warmth spilled over my hand as his body convulsed beneath me, the intensity of his orgasm triggering my own.

With a final, deep thrust, I let go, my vision whiting out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. I buried my face in the crook of Thorne’s neck, muffling my cries against his skin as I rode out the aftershocks.

For a long moment, we lay entwined, our breaths gradually slowing, the sweat cooling on our skin. The room was quiet save for the soft buzz of the city outside, a stark contrast to the maelstrom that had just passed between us.

Finally, I lifted my head, brushing a damp lock of hair from Thorne’s forehead. His eyes were closed, and a small smile played on his lips. I brushed my lips across his.

“Are you okay?” I asked, the words a whisper against his mouth.

Thorne’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at me with a warmth that filled the room. “I’m more than okay,” he murmured.

Gently, I withdrew from him and then lay down beside him, pulling him into my arms.

As sleep began to claim us, Thorne whispered into the darkness, “Thank you.”

I tightened my hold on him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “No, Thorne,” I murmured. “Thank you.”

* * *

I woke in the dark, my heart racing from the strangest dream. The room was still, heavy with the scent of sweat and something sweet, unfamiliar. For a moment, I didn’t even know where I was. My mind fumbled through fragments—heat, noise, light—and came up empty.

The sheets were warm, tangled around my legs. Someone’s arm was draped over my waist, their breath steady against the back of my neck.

My breath caught. Who—?

I turned my head just enough to see the faint outline beside me. The moonlight spilled through the half-open curtains, washing the room in silver. The man lying next to me was broad-shouldered, the planes of his face soft in sleep, a shock of dark blonde hair falling across his forehead.

Recognition hit like a blow.

Thorne.

My stomach dropped so fast it hurt. I froze, barely breathing, staring at him.

No, no, no. This couldn’t be real.

How was I in his bed? How was he—how was I—?

A tremor ran through me, and suddenly I was cold all over. The last thing I remembered was being in the lab. The syringe. The serum. Rolling up my sleeve, telling myself I’d do anything to escape my miserable life.

Then—nothing. A total blank.

And now this. Naked. In Thorne Carr’s bed.

Panic clawed up my throat. I eased out of his arms inch by inch, my heart pounding so loud I was sure it would wake him. He shifted in his sleep, murmured something I couldn’t make out, and I froze until the sound of his breathing evened again.

The floor was cool beneath my feet. I crouched, scanning the shadows for my clothes, for anything that looked like mine. All I found were tight jeans, black boots, and a gauzy, glitter-dusted shirt that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

I stared at them in disbelief. “What the hell…” I whispered.

Still shaking, I pulled them on—the jeans clinging like they’d been made for someone else, the shirt sheer enough to make me want to crawl out of my skin. I caught sight of my reflection in the window, and I didn’t recognize the man staring back.

For a moment, I just stood there in the dark, staring at him.

The way the moonlight traced his shoulders, the faint rise and fall of his chest—it was unreal.

The man I’d admired from a distance, pretending my heart didn’t skip every time he passed me in the hallway.

And now, somehow, I’d been here—with him. It was everything I’d ever imagined.

If only I could remember it.

Whatever had happened last night, whoever he thought I was—it wasn’t Felix Sterling. It was…someone else. And when he woke up—when he realized what I’d done—he’d hate me.

I took one last look at the sleeping figure on the bed, my chest constricting so hard it hurt. Thorne looked so peaceful, and I couldn’t reconcile that with the chaos unraveling inside me.

I slipped out of his bedroom and walked to the front door. After easing it open, I stepped out into the hallway and stood there, my thoughts racing faster than my pulse.

What the hell had I done?