Alpha Professor's Forbidden Affair

FORKS AND CRAVINGS

HIRAM’S POV:

I miss being a man driven by nothing but lust—satisfying my urges and moving on. But this... this feels like responsibility. The very thing I ran from when I left the Shadow Pelt Pack. When Mother demanded I marry Vera, Beta Vincent’s daughter, I knew I couldn’t be chained down like that. And now? Now I chase after a woman I barely know, just because fate claims she’s my mate.

Suddenly, Juniper’s car comes to a halt in front of a tall building, jolting me out of my thoughts. I step on my brakes; the tires screeching as I pull up behind her. My gaze follows her as she steps out of the car. Without hesitation, I reach for my phone and quickly dial Justin.

“Did you get the order yet?” I mutter with my eyes still locked on Juniper as she moves toward the entrance.

Before he can respond, another car glides up the street, its headlights flooding the area with harsh light. It stops a few feet ahead, and Justin steps out, holding two paper bags in his hands. I get out of my car at once.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the bags from Justin.

The scent of warm food seeps through the paper, making my stomach rumble. He glances at me as if expecting more instructions.

“Do you need anything else, sir?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“You can head home for the night,” I reply, and Justin acknowledges with a quick nod, then turns and disappears into the darkness as I shift my focus back to Juniper.

She’s still standing at the entrance, the dim light from the building casting shadows across her face. Our eyes meet for a moment, but she says nothing. Rather, she turns and slips inside, her footsteps echoing softly as she ascends the stairs.

I follow closely behind until she comes to a halt in front of a door, then she unlocks it. She walks in first, then I follow her. My eyes dart around the apartment, which is close to empty. There is only a couch in the sitting area, and the kitchen is like a ghost town, which makes me wonder what she eats.

“My stupid roommate moved out a few days ago, so the place is a mess, but feel at home.” Her voice brings me back to reality, making me realize she must have noticed me checking her place out.

“It’s fine, thank you.” I say to her with a smile on my face.

She walks to the door and locks it.

What the hell was that, Hiram? I question myself.

She faces me, then gestures toward the kitchen. I nod awkwardly, moving toward the small, round wooden dining table with only two seats—seats that I’m sure I won’t fit into.

I place the paper bags down, my fingers brushing the surface of the table for a moment before she walks over. I pull out a chair for her, the gesture feeling oddly formal, almost out of place in the silence between us.

She sits, muttering a soft “Thank you.”

She places her bag on the table, then sighs, running a hand through her hair. With a quick pull, she removes the band, letting her beautiful brown hair tumble down over her shoulders. I catch myself staring—gaping like an i***t for a moment too long.

Her voice snaps me back to reality. “Which one’s mine?”

I clear my throat, fumbling for the paper bag with the Chinese noodles she asked for.

“Uh, this one,” I say, handing it over.

“Thank you,” she mutters, reaching for the bag, allowing her warm and tiny fingers to meet with mine for a moment.

Sitting down, I immediately feel cramped in the small wooden chair. My knees bump the table, and the seat barely holds me. She fit perfectly in hers. Her five-foot frame relaxed, almost making me feel ridiculous for how out of place I am.

I hate how tense I am, especially the way my body betrays me around her. She must notice. Hell, it’s probably amusing for her.

She opens up her bag, taking out her bowl of noodles, and then she glances at me with a smile which I force back, then I take out my plate of Mongolian beef.

Its aroma wafts in the air, earning me another glance from her, and then she mutters, “Here’s hoping this meal saves us from whatever kind of day we’ve had.”

With that, she digs her fork into her bowl, and I try to concentrate on my meal. I’ve barely taken a bite when I hear her let out a soft, sultry moan. It might not have been a moan, but that’s how it registers in my mind.

Her voice pulls me back to every heated moment we’ve shared, every intimate exploration of each other’s bodies. My fork slips from my fingers, clattering to the table as I look up at her. Regret washes over me for giving in to this distraction, but the desire flickering in her eyes makes it hard to look away.

I watch as she lifts the fork to her mouth, and her lips part slightly, allowing the delicate noodles to slide in. A soft, sensual moan escapes her lips as she swallows, and a rush of heat shoots through me. Each movement seems choreographed just for me. But this could be a delusion.

She glances at me, a playful smile curving her lips, and I feel the room shrink around us, the tension thickening like a fog. But this tension is only affecting me. I try to focus on my food, but I catch the sight of sauce on her lips. The only thing stopping me from using my lips to wipe them off is the little sense of decency in me, which is wearing thin by seconds.

My breath catches as she dabs at the sauce with her delicate index finger. Then I watch her slide her finger into her mouth, licking the tips with a sound I want to hear with my name in between it. It takes all my willpower not to leap across the table and claim her.

I’m losing myself in the anticipation of what might come next.

In that moment, she glances my way, causing me to grab a bottle of water and down it in one go, the cool liquid barely quenching the fire burning within me as I try to keep my eyes away from her.

She keeps her eyes on me, then rolls another bite of noodles, and I can’t help but watch as the strands slip past her luscious lips. The sensation is maddening. She is definitely aware, and I will not let this slide. She knows she doesn’t have to work too hard to seduce me, and two can play that game.