Sophia lasted forty-eight hours.

Forty-eight hours of avoiding Marcus in hallways, sitting in the back of seminars, telling herself their encounter was a temporary lapse. Forty-eight hours of lying to herself.

She could still feel him. The phantom stretch of him inside her, the ghost of his hands on her hips, his voice commanding her to come. It was driving her insane.

Thursday's seminar was torture. Marcus lectured on Hegel like nothing had happened, cool and controlled, while she could barely think straight. All she could see was his desk, where two days ago she'd been spread out, sobbing his name.

"Ms. Chen."

Her head snapped up. The entire class...