Chapter 2

FIRST NIGHT: UNTOUCHED

Kairose stood by the edge of the bed, trembling.

Her dress had been peeled away slowly—layer by layer until she was left in nothing but a thin silk slip that barely reached mid-thigh. Her hair tumbled wild over her shoulders. Her lips, bitten pink. Her chest, heaving.

Katio sat in the armchair like a king watching a play he’d already memorized, legs parted, tie undone. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the veins of his forearms. He didn’t speak. Just watched.

She hated how hot her skin felt under his gaze.

“I’m ready,” she lied.

He laughed. Not softly. Not kindly. A deep, dark sound that cracked through her pride.

“No,” he said, standing slowly, his steps echoing on the hardwood. “You’re not.”

“I said I’m—”

“I heard you.” He was behind her now, one hand sliding up the inside of her thigh, breath brushing her ear. “But your body’s lying. You’re tense. Scared. Still acting like you have a choice.”

His fingers hooked her chin, forcing her to look up. His face was so close. His lips a breath away. “I don’t want to ruin you, little bride. Not yet. Tonight’s about fear,” he whispered, trailing a hand down the curve of her side, “not fucking.”

Her throat went dry. Her thighs clenched.

“You’re cruel,” she breathed.

Katio grinned, sharp and cruel. “No. I’m patient.”

Then he pushed her gently onto the bed—not to take, not to dominate, but to watch.

He made her spread her legs. Touch her own skin. Whisper yes, sir through gritted teeth while he murmured praise in her ear and never laid a single finger below her waist.

By the time he stood again, she was flushed and aching and humiliated. His thumb traced the corner of her wet mouth.

“You’ll beg next time,” he said, grabbing his blazer. “And maybe then, I’ll taste you.”

He left her there—undone and untouched.

THE NEXT MORNING

Kairose entered Room 3A like a storm cloud in heels.

The class was already buzzing. Girls in short skirts leaned over their desks, giggling, swiping on lip gloss, whispering his name like he was a god. Katio Storm. The professor with a smirk that made panties drop and essays forgotten.

When he entered, the volume spiked.

He wore black. Black shirt, black slacks, no tie. Just a silver watch and that cold, slow smile that made the air go tight.

“Good morning, Professor,” cooed Lila from the front row, breasts practically poured into her shirt.

“Good morning, Professor Storm,” another girl chirped, flicking her hair.

Kairose rolled her eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.

She sat in the back like always. Headphones in. Sunglasses on. A whole fuck you in human form.

“Damn, Kairose,” her seatmate whispered. “You’re not even gonna try?”

She popped her gum, gaze locked on Katio’s back as he scrawled across the board.

“They want him?” she said with a smirk. “They can have him.”

The words were bitter on her tongue.

But her thighs still remembered his hand. Her neck still burned from his breath.

Let them try, she thought, folding her arms. Let them throw themselves at him. He might not have taken her yet…