The lock clicked into place like a verdict.

Professor Kane turned from the door and walked toward me slowly. The empty classroom suddenly felt smaller. The rows of desks, the wide windows, the faint smell of dry-erase marker—all of it faded under the weight of his attention. He stopped a few feet away, eyes moving over me with open, unhurried assessment.

“Sit on the desk,” he said.

My pulse jumped. I set my bag down and perched on the edge of his desk, the short skirt riding higher on my thighs. The wood was cool against the backs of my legs. He stepped between my knees without asking, forcing them...