I’m secretly married to a university professor who rarely cracks a smile. During one of his public lectures, I accidentally broadcast a steamy romance novel from my phone. He was the male lead. I was the author. The resulting uproar nearly blew the roof off the lecture hall. Dr. Miles’s gaze cut through the crowd and landed squarely on me. "My office. After class." That night, he pinned me against the door, and I was trembling like a leaf. "Honey, I'm so sorry. I'll never write it again." He loosened his tie, his voice a low whisper. "Too late. Ten minutes for every word. You do the math." 1 It was the first open lecture of the new semester. The hall was packed, standing room only. The moment my roommate dragged me inside, my eyes met a cool, impossibly handsome face. My heart stopped. The man stood at the podium in a crisp white shirt, his calm, intelligent eyes looking at me through thin-framed glasses, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he took in my deer-in-the-headlights expression. "Class is about to start," he said, his voice smooth as velvet. "Please find a seat." My roommate grabbed my arm, foiling my escape attempt, and pulled me into the front row. "Let me introduce you," she whispered excitedly. "Professor Miles. My ultimate crush." His hands, shuffling papers on the lectern, were just inches away. A simple wedding band gleamed on his ring finger. It was a perfect match for the one hanging on a chain around my neck. The second our eyes met again, I ducked my head, my entire body rigid. Oh, God. Can someone please tell me why my practically-a-stranger husband, who was supposed to be doing research abroad, is suddenly back in the country? Last month, in a drunken fit of madness, I'd sent him a series of progressively thirstier photos in the middle of the night. Dr. Julian Miles, ever the gentleman, had simply pretended he never saw them. When I sobered up, I remembered we barely knew each other. Our marriage was a family arrangement, a convenience. So why in the world was he suddenly here, at my university, as my new physics professor? This was a nightmare. Professor Miles stood straight, his gaze sweeping over my huddled form before that faint smile returned. "Due to some unforeseen circumstances, I will be taking over this physics course for the semester. I look forward to a productive term with all of you." His voice was like a cool spring breeze, but it brought back a flood of memories that were suddenly attacking me. His faculty position… it was at Ashton University. I could feel his eyes on me, and I shrank further into my seat. Was he really going to fail me just because I’d sent him a few suggestive texts? He said nothing more about it, and the first lecture of the semester began. Sitting directly under his gaze, listening to that cool, melodic voice, I felt a wave of drowsiness wash over me. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was my editor. Talia, your professor character is pure fire. Polish this up, we're taking it live! Half-asleep, I tapped the file she sent. The screen froze. A few seconds later, a robotic female voice emanated from my phone's speaker. "In the dead of night, I slipped on Professor Miles’s white shirt and stumbled through his door, crashing into his arms." "Oh, Professor… please, hold me tighter…" I jolted awake. My phone’s text-to-speech feature was on, broadcasting my R-rated prose to the entire lecture hall. I fumbled to silence it, but it was too late. Oh my God, oh my God, make it stop… The room was dead silent. Professor Miles had stopped talking. His expression was as serene as ever, but I felt his gaze on me like a physical weight, and I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. "I'm so sorry, my phone is broken…" I stammered, tears welling in my eyes. In my panic, I accidentally turned the volume up. The AI voice launched into the next, even spicier scene. The students around me were beet red, frozen in stunned silence. Professor Miles tapped a piece of chalk against the lectern. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound echoed in the suffocating silence. Finally, he spoke to me for the first time since his return. "Thank you for that… contribution. Please see me in my office after class." 2 The silence in his office was deafening. I sat across from him, the ticking of the clock in the corner marking every second of my agony. Professor Miles was grading papers, his head bowed. The late afternoon sun slanted through the window, its warm, golden light filtering through the leaves and falling across his perfectly tailored shirt, casting long, elegant shadows. He hadn't said a word to me since I'd walked in. He hadn't even mentioned the novel. Was he going to divorce me for writing fanfiction about him? "Um, Professor, I'm really sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean for that to happen." He looked up and smiled faintly. "I understand. Artistic expression." His gentle tone completely disarmed me. I managed a weak smile back. "Right, right… as long as you understand. I'm actually a very conservative person. My editor makes me write those scenes… there aren't many of them." The atmosphere seemed to relax. He pulled out a gift bag and placed it on the desk. His voice was polite and warm. "My return was a bit rushed, so I only managed to get you a cashmere scarf. The shirt will have to wait until next time." Shirt? Professor Miles's shirt?! I met his gentle gaze and realized he had completely misunderstood. Oh God, he thinks I'm a creep… Just as I was about to try and salvage my reputation, my phone exploded with a flurry of messages from my editor. The notification sounds drew both of our attention. "Does Julian really like doing it in the kitchen?" "That's a fire hazard. I suggest you change it." "The office scene is hot, though! Spill water on him, then pounce, use 'changing clothes' as an excuse to get him… where do you come up with this stuff?" My head shot up. Professor Miles's calm gaze was fixed on my phone screen. Then, his eyes slowly lifted to the cup of water I was clutching in my hands. He smiled. "Are you... going to spill it?" A strange, mortifying silence filled the room. Finally, blushing furiously, I managed to choke out, "I would never do that. You have my word." 3 After leaving his office, Professor Miles drove me to my parents' house for dinner. They were thrilled he was back and had cooked a feast. I sat in the passenger seat, feeling like my soul had left my body. My editor was trying to comfort me via text. "Relax. He's a serious academic. You think he has time to read smut on some little writing platform?" I snuck a glance at him. My heart immediately started doing a frantic tap dance against my ribs. He was focused on the traffic, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the steering wheel. The neon lights of the city washed over his handsome profile, painting him in shifting colors. The air in the car suddenly felt very hot. "He probably thinks I'm a total pervert," I texted. "Well, aren't you?" she shot back, along with a screenshot of an illustration I had drawn for the story. The caption read: Professor Miles's Laundry Day. The top comment: "If you know, you know. He's doing his own laundry because someone made a mess… and he was happy to do it." "Someone explain?" a newer comment asked. "Go play somewhere else, kid." I quickly logged onto the site and posted an update. "Taking a short break, guys. The subject has returned. Please, let's all be cool." My fans, however, were anything but. "Let's go, girl! Get this story to #1 so the Professor can see it!" "A happy author means a happy fandom!" "OMG, this is like a live feed! Author, please, live in my phone!" "We're here. There's a car behind us," Miles's voice pulled me from my phone. "I didn't write about a car! You're mistaken!" I blurted out, shoving my phone away. I looked up and saw his baffled expression. I realized he was talking about the rearview mirror. "So," he asked, a hint of amused resignation in his voice, "what exactly have you been writing?" "..." Kill me now. I was so flustered that I nearly walked into traffic getting out of the car. Miles grabbed my hand to pull me back. The gentle warmth of his skin and the subtle, woody scent of his cologne was like a spark landing in my palm, spreading a dizzying heat through me. Remembering my disastrous physics grades, I said anxiously, "I'll study really hard. I promise." He just grunted in response. Fearing he didn't believe me, I raised my hand as if taking an oath. "I mean it! I'll be a model student. Please, just don't tell my parents about my grades." He must have seen the genuine panic in my eyes because a soft, helpless laugh escaped him. "Alright," he said. "I won't." His gaze made my heart flutter. Before I could respond, my mother's booming voice came from the front door. "Talia, what is this you posted online? 'Used to be scared to tell my parents I was dating, now I'm scared to tell my husband'? What is that supposed to mean?" I froze on the spot. I met Miles's questioning look and blurted out, "My boyfriend is a fan-art character on a website—" I clamped my mouth shut, nearly biting my tongue. It was fan-art of him, and the thirsty comments were still all over it. Thankfully, he didn't press for details. He just politely greeted my mom, who immediately forgot her anger and ushered him inside. As we walked in, I heard his low, warm chuckle. "I hope dinner tonight isn't keeping you from your boyfriend." "..." I am going to die. That night, to prevent him from finding the story, I frantically deleted comments. My readers were having a field day. "Oh ho, the plot thickens." "Two minutes and another comment is gone. Don't worry, I took screenshots. Professor, DM me, I'll send them for free." I barely tasted my food. When dinner was over and Miles stood up to leave, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. "You two head home," my mom said with a loving smile. "Drive safe." I blinked. "Me too?" "You're married. If you don't go home with your husband, where else would you go?" I turned and saw Miles standing by the door, holding my coat, waiting for me. My face went pale. This was a lamb walking willingly into the lion's den. And so, I was brought to his home. After we'd signed the papers, he'd left for his research fellowship abroad. This was the first night we would ever spend alone together. My heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I stood in the doorway like an ostrich, refusing to go any further. "The master bedroom is that way. Your clothes are in the closet. You can shower first." I found myself staring at the alluring line of his waist as he bent down to take off his shoes. "So... am I showering alone?" I asked, my face burning. In the dim light, his gaze found mine. "You're certainly... direct." I snapped back to my senses and scurried into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. My whole body felt like it was boiling. I could die of embarrassment. After my shower, I furiously texted my friends. "How do you make a man fall hopelessly in love with you?" My roommate replied instantly: "Talia! Look at you go! Already staying out all night, huh? And you're still thinking about chasing guys?" They sent me a link to a post on the university's online forum. My "glorious" moment in the lecture hall had gone viral. Someone had uploaded the video. It already had thousands of comments. "HOLY CRAP, TALIA VANCE IS LADY T! You can find her new story, My Wild Days with Professor Miles, on the Crimson Quill platform!" "Are she and the professor for real? Is this, like, a memoir?" "No way! That's Julian Miles! Ashton's untouchable Ice King! His failure rate is insane; they call him the Gentle Blade. Talia's screwed for finals." "Noooo, my professor's reputation! He has such a pure, ascetic face, there's no way he's like that in private..." My personal social media accounts had been blown up. People were demanding an explanation. Worse, they were flooding Professor Miles's official university profile page. "Professor Miles, you should sue her. For real." "Look at what she wrote about you! (See attached screenshot)" Oh god, they were posting excerpts of my story and the fan-art directly on his page. I could feel a heart attack coming on. It was over. There was no hiding it now. Then, Chloe, the most popular girl in my year, chimed in. "But... isn't Professor Miles married?" She posted a photo. A clear shot of his hand, with the wedding band unmistakable on his ring finger. Chloe added: "I know his wife. I just spoke with her tonight. My cousin said she had no idea about any of this." The gossip mill went into overdrive. "Wait, you call her your cousin?" "Yes, we're very close. She said she hopes Talia Vance will stop fantasizing about her husband. It's making her very uncomfortable." "By the way, she's flying back to the States soon. She said she'd like to treat everyone to dinner to thank them for their support." The tide of public opinion turned in an instant. "Does anyone know this Talia girl? Tell her to stop embarrassing the rest of us." "The real wife is coming back. The delulu fanfic girl must be terrified now, lol." Her words were so confident, for a second, I actually doubted myself. Did I dream up my own marriage? I pulled up the digital copy of our marriage certificate on my phone and stared at it. A handsome man, a beautiful woman. A match made in heaven. Even if God himself descended, I was still Julian Miles's wife. 4 The internet mob was terrifyingly efficient. Within minutes, Professor Miles's profile page was wallpapered with my writing and drawings. The thought of him seeing it all made me want to spontaneously combust. I had to get to his phone and delete everything before he saw it. Half an hour later, I pushed open his study door, my heart pounding. The room was quiet. He was sitting at his desk, the soft glow from his laptop screen illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He looked up at the sound, his brow furrowing slightly when he saw me standing there, barefoot. "Still awake?" As I got closer, he finally took in my attire—one of his white button-down shirts. Oh god, this looked less like a stealth mission and more like a seduction attempt. A hot blush flooded my face. His gaze traveled slowly down from my collarbone, over my waist, down my thighs, before finally meeting my crimson face. "Talia," he said, his voice low and smooth. "What is this?" He set his pen down on the desk with a soft click. The small sound sent a shiver down my spine. My legs were shaking. I started babbling nonsense. "I... I was cold. Just looking for something to wear..." He leaned back in his chair, a half-smile playing on his lips. "This is a study," he reminded me, his tone laced with amusement. My eyes locked onto his phone, sitting on the corner of the desk. Steeling myself, I swung my leg over and sat on the desk, right in front of him. I managed to snatch the phone. In doing so, I blocked the light from his small desk lamp. His face was instantly plunged into shadow, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, his voice, now husky and deep, drifted out of the darkness. "Talia, you are currently sitting on your physics homework." "Do you have any idea what this behavior constitutes?" I held my breath, planting a foot on his thigh for balance. "Um, what? I'm just..." In a flash, he was on his feet, his hands on either side of me, trapping me against the desk. Click. He turned off the lamp. Darkness swallowed the room whole. I was enveloped in that woody scent, and before I could react, a strong hand curved around my waist. His voice was a hot breath against my ear. "You're showing contempt for classroom decorum." "And disrespecting your professor." "And, you've managed to get your own homework wet." "I have never had such a difficult student." There was a hint of censure in his cool tone now. My body went limp. I rested my forehead against his shoulder, on the verge of crying from pure shame. "I'm sorry, Professor..." "I don't accept apologies. Look at me." The command was absolute. The moment I lifted my head, his mouth was on mine. Fireworks exploded behind my eyes. My hands scrabbled uselessly at his shirt as I surrendered completely to his aggressive conquest. In the darkness, he paused, his voice laced with a helpless amusement. "You really do have a thing for my shirts, don't you?" My breathing was ragged, my skin on fire. I was so overwhelmed I thought I was going to pass out. I had pushed his phone aside during the kiss. Suddenly, the screen lit up, a blinding notification cutting through the darkness.
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