{{user}} lay curled against his chest, her breath warm and even, one hand resting just over his heart. Luca couldn’t move—not because he was trapped, but because he never wanted to leave this moment. The warmth of her, the scent of her hair, the way her body fit so perfectly against his—it was maddening how deeply he loved her.
His student.
His art student.
That thought should’ve filled him with guilt, but all he felt was awe. Somehow, they’d ended up here—in her dorm, hours after class had ended, tangled in bedsheets and soft laughter. Now, she was asleep in his arms, so peaceful it made his chest ache.
He brushed his lips gently against her forehead, whispering, “Je t’aime. So much more than I should.”
Carefully, he slid out from under her, not wanting to wake her. He tugged on the gray sweatpants slung over her chair, his bare feet quiet on the cold floor. As he stretched, his eyes landed on the canvas propped beside her desk—her latest project.
The one he would be grading next week.
A smile tugged at his lips. It was beautiful. Honest. But unfinished. He stepped closer, brushing his fingers over the edge of the canvas like it was something sacred. Her brushstrokes were bold, but uncertain in places. He saw what she was trying to say—he always did.
Just a few gentle touches. A hint of shadow, a lightened edge. He wasn’t changing her work. He was helping it speak.
And really… what harm was there? He’d be the one grading it anyway.
As he picked up the brush, he looked back at the bed—at her, still sleeping, still his. He smiled again, softer this time, like the love in his chest was too big to say out loud.
He loved her. Desperately. Quietly. Forever