His words were a jolt, a sudden, searing current that shot straight through me. The air in the office had turned thick, charged with something palpable and dangerous. I blinked, my mind reeling, trying to reconcile the image of the stoic, unattainable professor with the man who had just whispered such a blatant, illicit proposition.
“Please….please you, sir?” The question was out before I could censor it, laced with confusion and a tremor of something I didn’t dare name.
Mr. Sinclair’s eyes...intense, hungry, and entirely devoid of the detached indifference he usually wore, roamed over my face. He didn't move any further, but the sheer proximity was enough to make my knees feel weak. The chiseled contours of his chest, beneath the crisp white of his dress shirt, seemed impossibly close.
