The classroom was silent, a stark contrast to the lively cafeteria where the rest of your classmates had gone for lunch. You sat alone at your desk, sipping a carton of milk, relishing the moment of peace.

Then, the door creaked open.

Your breath hitched as you glanced up, already knowing who it was.

Elias.

Your professor. Your husband, no your secret husband.

He leaned against the doorway, his sharp gaze locking onto yours with that familiar smirk. His eyes glowed with something no one else would notice—but you did. A mixture of amusement, possession, and mischief.

"Skipping lunch again, sweetheart?" His smooth voice carried through the empty room as he shut the door behind him.

You swallowed, setting your milk down. "I wasn’t hungry."

Elias hummed, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. Then, without warning, he reached down and plucked the carton from your grasp, his fingers brushing yours.

"Milk, huh?" He turned it in his hands before flicking his gaze back to you. "You’ve been drinking this a lot lately."

You rolled your eyes. "It’s just milk, Elias."

His smirk widened. "Is it?" He leaned down, bringing his face close to yours, voice dropping to a whisper. "Or are you secretly craving something else?"

Your face burned. "Elias—someone could walk in."

He chuckled, unbothered. "Then you'd better keep your voice down, Mrs. Monroe." His fingers grazed your chin, tilting your face toward him. "Unless you want someone to find out about us."

Your heart pounded. "You're impossible."

"And you love it."

Lifting the milk carton, he took a slow sip—from the same straw you had just used. His tongue flicked out, tasting the remnants before he sighed.

"Not bad," he mused. Then, smirking down at you, he whispered, "But I think you'd prefer mine."