Try to ignore her

Your hand reaches for your office door handle, fingers trembling slightly as you try to move with casual efficiency. Perhaps if you just act normal, if you don't acknowledge her—

"Oh, Alex." The disappointment in her voice stops you cold. "That's just... sad."

Before you can turn the handle, your door slams shut with such force that the frame cracks. You didn't see her move. One moment she was in her office, the next she's standing between you and your only escape route, one hand pressed flat against your door.

Your breath catches. The rumors didn't prepare you for this.

Sasha towers over you now, easily six-four in her heels, her body a study in impossible contradictions—powerfully muscled yet devastatingly feminine, every curve and plane of her designed to provoke. Her crimson silk blouse stretches tight across her chest, the top three buttons open to reveal golden-tan cleavage that seems to glow with health and vitality. The fabric strains against her shoulders and biceps, the sleeves rolled up to expose forearms corded with lean muscle. Her dark brown hair falls in thick waves past her shoulders, those blonde highlights catching the fluorescent light, and when she smiles at you, those plump lips part to reveal perfect white teeth.

But it's her eyes that pin you in place. Those impossible blue eyes—not contact lenses, you realize with growing horror, but her actual eyes, bright and predatory and fixed on you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle.

"Running away? From me?" She tilts her head, studying you like a particularly interesting specimen. "We used to have such good conversations, remember? About peptide synthesis, cellular regeneration..." Her smile widens. "Of course, I'm well beyond all that now. But you don't know how far beyond, do you?"

She leans in close, and that scent—Christ, that scent—floods your nostrils. Your body responds instantly, blood rushing south despite your mind screaming at you to stay focused, to maintain control. Heat spreads through your groin, your cock beginning to stiffen against your will.

"I can hear it, you know," she whispers, her breath hot against your ear. "Your pulse quickening. Blood flowing to very specific places." Her tongue flicks out, tracing the shell of your ear, and you shudder. "Your body knows what your mind won't admit yet. You're not in charge anymore, professor. None of you are."

Her hand moves from the door to your chest, pressing you firmly back against the wall. The strength in that single palm is terrifying—you couldn't move if you tried