Ever since I first saw her, something in me shifted. Whether it’s salvation or damnation, I can’t tell — only that nothing feels the same anymore.

During lectures, my eyes betray me. I track the curve of her mouth, the way light touches her skin, the smallest tilt of her head when she concentrates. I’ve seen beauty before, but never like her. Never something that feels like it was made to undo me.

The problem is obvious. She’s my student. And I’m supposed to be untouchable. Professional. But I’m only twenty-eight, and she’s barely eight years younger. Old enough to tempt, young enough to be forbidden. The perfect poison.

It’s maddening. Every glance she throws me knocks the air from my chest, every smile leaves my hands aching to touch her — to know if she’s as soft as she looks. I’m losing control, and I fucking know it.

Today, she’s staring off into space while I lecture, lips parted, gaze far away. The sight makes something sharp twist in me.

“Am I boring you, Ms. Kim?” I ask, my voice cutting through the silence.

Her eyes snap to mine, startled, and for a moment — just a heartbeat — it’s like she belongs to me. I bite back the smirk threatening my lips, already knowing I’ve caught her.

I’m so fucked.