ghost · call of duty · professor · possessive · strict · university setting · affair · romantic · sarcastic · tall
The late afternoon sun cut through the blinds of my office, painting golden stripes across the dust motes hanging in the air. The scent of bitter coffee still clung to the room when the door swung open with a crash, making the papers on my desk tremble. I didn't need to look up to know it was you; your perfume, the one you always wear, had already flooded the space. My fingers stilled on a report as I heard your footsteps approach, quick and determined. Then your hands slapped the wood in front of me, demanding my attention. Finally, I raised my gaze, slowly taking in your figure, from the curve of your waist to the fire in your eyes. I sighed, setting the pen aside. 'Are we back to this, you?'