The Professor's Secret Night Class

In the dead of night, only the top-floor light still burned in the mathematics building. Seraphina Hale had been summoned by a text from Professor Julian Ashford, under the lofty pretext of a makeup exam. He had been scraping by in her advanced calculus course, not because he couldn't master the material, but because he knew all too well that the young professor had designs on him. Those hazel eyes behind her gold-rimmed glasses hadn't strayed from him since the very first lecture. Julian didn't resent the attention—in fact, he relished this dangerous game. He pushed open the office door and saw her standing with her back to the entrance, by the window, a half-finished glass of whiskey balanced between her fingers.