Page 19 of The Naughty Professor

Chapter Seventeen

Thorne

Sunlight spilled through the half-drawn blinds, a pale gold wash across the bed, bright enough to make me squint but soft enough that I didn’t mind.

It touched everything—the old photo of my parents on the wall, the antique clock on my dresser, and the faint shimmer of glitter dusting the pillow beside me.

Glitter. That was new.

For a few seconds I just lay there, half-asleep, smiling without meaning to. My body ached in the best way—the deep, satisfied ache that told me last night hadn’t been a dream.

Then the realization came, slow and warm.

Jax. Oh, Felix. Jax was Felix’s stage persona.

The other side of the bed was empty. The sheets were still warm, the pillow indented, and my first thought—irrational and instant—was that he’d left me. My second thought was, of course he didn’t. Felix probably had to go teach class.

It had been four lonely years since Mark and I had split up. Four years of gray mornings and quiet nights, of telling myself I didn’t need anyone. Then Felix had come along. Shy, brilliant, too polite for his own good—and somehow he’d cracked the walls I thought were permanent.

I never would’ve guessed he spent his nights dancing on stage for cash, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

He probably needed extra money, and Lord knows he probably had to keep his gig as an erotic dancer on the down low.

Who knows how the higher-ups at VCU would react if they knew about it.

I sat up, rubbing a hand through my hair, half expecting to find glitter there too. The pillow still sparkled faintly. His belt lay coiled on the floor, a strip of dark leather that looked almost intentional, like he’d left it behind on purpose.

I grinned, ridiculous and giddy.

Felix had driven me absolutely mad. Not just with his body, but with the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world who mattered. It had been raw and unguarded and so real it still made my chest tighten.

That wasn’t something you could fake.

I glanced at the clock. Almost nine. He probably didn’t want to wake me, so he’d crept out quietly. The man was pathologically considerate.

God, I was ridiculous. One night of good sex and suddenly I was a teenager again, reading too much into everything. But I couldn’t help it. After years of stillness, I finally felt alive.

I leaned back against the headboard and let the memory of his mouth flicker through me—heat, laughter, the way he’d whispered my name. Maybe this could be something. Maybe, for once, I didn’t need to overthink it.

I’d always assumed Felix’s hesitation around me was professional—two professors at the same university, both cautious about gossip. But now I saw it differently. That shyness wasn’t because of a lack of interest. It was restraint. And last night, that restraint had burned away.

I laughed under my breath, feeling warmth spread through my chest. It had been so long since I’d felt light like this, since I’d woken up actually looking forward to the day.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stretched until my shoulders popped. My body reminded me of what we’d done—the ache in my hips, and the slight burn around my mouth. Jax had been wild and hungry, but beneath it all it had been Felix.

I picked up his belt, ran a thumb along the worn leather, and draped it neatly over the chair. “You’ll need this back, Professor Sterling,” I murmured, still smiling.

Maybe I’d give it to him later today, after his last class.

The thought made my stomach flip—nervous, hopeful.

Vulnerability felt almost sweet again. After Mark, I’d promised myself not to rely on anyone for comfort.

I’d built routines instead of relationships, filled my days with grading papers and a little too much bourbon at night.

But Felix had slipped through the cracks.

He’d wandered into my life with awkward smiles and self-deprecating humor, and now here he was, leaving glitter on my sheets and a welcome ache when I moved.

I went to the window and tugged the blinds open wider. The city outside gleamed—bright and alive. I could almost picture him teaching a class, completely unaware of the effect he’d left on me.

The thought made me smile. It had been so long since anything—or anyone—had made me feel this way. My chest felt loose, light, like something had finally unclenched after years of holding tight.

I turned away from the window and stretched, letting the sun soak into my skin. Maybe I’d see him between classes, or later. I’d act casual, maybe even tease him about leaving his belt. Nothing heavy. Just… something real.

The idea made me chuckle to myself. I’d forgotten what anticipation felt like—this flutter that wasn’t quite anxiety, wasn’t quite joy, but something wonderfully alive in between.

I imagined the look on Felix’s face when our eyes met across campus later.

Whatever this was—whatever it could be—I wanted to see where it went.

* * *

“Alright, that’s all for today,” I said, clapping my hands once as my students began packing up. “Your essays on Aristotle are due Thursday, not Friday. I repeat—Thursday. Procrastination is not a philosophical virtue.”

A few groans answered me, followed by the usual shuffle of papers and the zipping of backpacks.

“See you later, Professor Carr,” one of the students said as she passed my desk. Then she smiled. “You seem… chipper today.”

“Chipper?” I repeated, feigning offense. “I prefer ‘philosophically content.’”

She laughed and disappeared into the hallway with the others.

When the last of them filed out, I closed the classroom door and let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was chipper. I hadn’t felt this light in years.

I walked to the small office tucked in the back of the classroom, flicked on the overhead light, and sank into the chair behind my desk. I reached over and switched on the old desktop computer, which hummed awake at its usual glacial speed.

My inbox was the same wasteland as always—faculty memos, reminders, committee spam—but one email stood out.

From: Joan Stanwyk. Subject line: Department Meeting—Attendance Required.

No greeting, no smiley-face signature, no clipped witticism about departmental “synergy.” Just two dry lines: Meeting Friday, 2 p.m. Attendance mandatory.

That was… uncharacteristically brief.

Normally, Joan liked to lace her emails with passive-aggressive flair. She could write an entire paragraph that said “You’re incompetent” without using the word once.

I leaned back, smirking. She’d been at Badlands last night—dressed like she’d raided her daughter’s closet, if she had one.

I pulled out my phone and opened the camera roll.

There it was: the photo I’d taken just to prove to myself that I wasn’t hallucinating.

And for insurance, if she ever tried anything on me.

Joan Stanwyk, queen of tailored suits and moral superiority, partying at Badlands in a black mini-skirt and a blouse that looked spray-painted on.

“Good Lord,” I muttered, chuckling under my breath. “She’s probably nursing the hangover of the century.”

I set the phone down but didn’t put it away.

My thumb hovered for a moment, then scrolled back through my gallery.

No photos of him, but the memory was there anyway—the way Felix had looked in that red glittery thong, the way his hands had trembled when I’d touched him, the way all that nervous energy had melted into something tender and sure.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly four.

Felix’s last class should be ending soon.

God, why hadn’t I asked for his number? We’d spent the night together, for Christ’s sake, and it never even occurred to me to say, Hey, can I call you sometime?

I shut the monitor off and stood. The idea hit before I could talk myself out of it.

I could just… stop by. Return his belt. There wasn’t anything weird about that.

Two colleagues, same campus, one mildly scandalous accessory.

After grabbing his belt out of my bottom desk drawer, I walked through the empty classroom, my heart thudding harder than it should have for a man my age.

When I reached the door, I froze with my hand on the knob.

What if I’d read it wrong? What if last night had been just a one-time thing for him?

But no. I remembered the way he’d touched me, and the way he’d whispered my name like it meant something. That hadn’t felt like a one-night stand.

* * *

The afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows lining the hallway, painting long golden stripes across the floor.

I gripped Felix’s belt in one hand and slipped the other into my pocket, trying to look like a man simply taking a stroll through the building—not one nervously on his way downstairs to return another man’s clothing accessory.

Students streamed past me in clumps, laughing, earbuds in, entirely oblivious to the middle-aged philosophy professor with butterflies in his stomach. I was halfway down the corridor toward the stairwell when someone called my name.

“Thorne! Oh, Thoooorne!”

I turned, startled.

Lorna Hernandez came bustling toward me from the opposite end of the hall like she was making a grand entrance on opening night—heels clicking, red hair bouncing, bangles flashing in the sunlight pouring through the windows. Before I could react, she threw her arms around me.

“Lorna?” I managed, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Are you… hugging me?”

She pulled back and winked. “Oh, honey, we had so much fun last night!”

“Fun?”

“At Badlands!” she gushed. “You, me, Joan, the glitter and the dancers—what a night!”

I blinked at her. “Yes, it was… memorable.”

She laughed brightly. “Memorable! Oh, you are killing me. Have you seen the video yet?”

“What video?”

Lorna’s grin turned conspiratorial. She whipped her phone out of her purse like a magician producing a rabbit. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it!”

My stomach did a slow, uneasy flip. “There’s a video of what, exactly?”

A moment later, the unmistakable bass line of dance music filled the hallway. Lorna angled her phone toward me, grinning like the devil.

There he was.

Jax—no, Felix—glitter catching the lights, hips rolling, the crowd screaming. He looked breathtaking. Damn, his body was so toned, and the way he filled out that thong was…

I felt my face heat instantly.

Lorna elbowed me, nearly knocking the phone from her hand. “So?” she teased, eyes gleaming. “Did you get lucky last night?”

I felt the blush climb all the way to my ears. “Lorna.”

She gasped theatrically, stepping back to study me. “Oh my God, you did!”

“I am not discussing this with you in public,” I said, trying to sound stern, which only made her laugh harder.

Her eyes dropped to the rolled-up belt in my hand, and her grin turned wicked. “Well, well, well,” she said, pointing. “I bet that’s Jax’s belt, isn’t it?”

I tried to hold a straight face but failed. “Have a good afternoon, Professor Hernandez.”

“Oh, I’m having a fabulous afternoon, thank you,” Lorna sang as she twirled away down the corridor.

I took the stairs down to the basement level, the belt still looped through my hand. Felix’s lab door was half open, and just as I reached it, he stepped out, a stack of folders tucked under one arm and his messenger bag hanging off his shoulder. He almost walked straight into me.

For a split second, everything inside me lifted. I smiled before I could stop myself, already picturing him smiling back.

But he didn’t.

He froze, eyes wide behind his glasses, color rising in his cheeks. His entire posture shifted—shoulders tight, head ducking slightly like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Felix,” I breathed. “Hey.”

“Hi, Professor Carr,” he replied, voice quick and formal.

That stung a little. “We’re back to that, are we?”

He made a nervous sound that might have been a laugh. “Hello,” he said again, “Thorne.”

The silence stretched, awkward and heavy. I held up the belt between us, the leather dangling like proof of something I couldn’t name. “You, uh, left this at my place last night.”

“Oh—right.” He grabbed it too fast, nearly dropping his folders. “Thanks.”

I smiled, trying to bridge the gap. “So… maybe we could grab dinner sometime? Tonight or tomorrow?”

His eyes went round. “Dinner?”

“Dinner,” I said, keeping my tone gentle. “Actual food. Conversation. I promise not to make it weird.”

“I—uh—I can’t tonight. I’m going to my grandmother’s.”

“Of course,” I said. “Tomorrow, then? Or the next day?”

He shifted the papers again, eyes darting toward the elevator at the end of the hall. “Maybe,” he muttered.

“At least give me your number,” I said, smiling to soften it.

He fumbled for his phone, nearly dropped it, then thrust it at me like it was a hot potato. I took it, entered my number, and handed it back. “There. Now you can text me when you’re free.”

“Okay,” he said, already backing away a step. “I—I’m running really late. Sorry.”

“Sure,” I said. “Felix—”

But he was already half turned, nodding fast. “Um, yeah. Tomorrow. Or… soon.”

And then he was gone, the door at the end of the corridor swinging shut behind him.

I stood there for a moment, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hallway. The warmth from earlier drained, leaving something uncertain in its place.

What on earth had happened to the sexy man who had rocked my world last night?