The last student finally shuffled out, leaving the office door ajar, a silent invitation for me to stay. My heart was already pounding, a nervous flutter against my ribs. Professor Davies. His name alone sent a shiver down my spine, a thrill that had nothing to do with literature.

He was impossibly handsome, with eyes that saw far too much and a smile that promised to keep every secret I might ever reveal. And I needed an A in his Advanced Literature seminar, desperately. I was ready to do anything for it. Everything.

I sat across from his large mahogany desk, my hands clasped in my lap, trying to project...