I walked into his classroom, and the air vanished from my lungs. That rooftop bar. That one reckless night. The way his hands mapped my body like he'd known me for years, not minutes. I'd convinced myself it was just summer heat and bad decisions-until I saw him standing behind the lectern, those same eyes locking onto mine with dangerous recognition. He wasn't just my professor. He was the father of the arrogant ex who'd shattered my heart. The man who'd vanished at dawn without a word, leaving only tangled sheets and a memory that haunted me. Now every lecture is a slow burn. The brush of his fingers when he "accidentally" passes back my paper. The way his voice drops an octave when he calls me to his office after hours. The unspoken promise in his gaze that says he remembers exactly how I felt beneath him. He claims there are rules. Boundaries. Lines we shouldn't cross. But when his hand finds the small of my back in the empty hallway, when his breath ghosts against my ear as he leans over my desk... I realize the most dangerous thing isn't breaking his rules. It's how desperately I want to.