Him
T HE PROFESSOR'S ALARM woke him at half past four the next day.
While a dull, miniscule throbbing still nagged at his temple, his body no longer felt sluggish, and he was even able to leave the bed without tripping over his own feet.
Twenty hours ago, it hadn't been the case at all, with the flu causing the professor to all but crawl just to make it to the en-suite.
Then again, none of it should've happened if he hadn't been so damn careless in the first place.
The last time he had done something as stupid as this, everything had still been new and unfamiliar, his bitterness still raw enough to make him rebel against the drastic changes his life had to accommodate.
But he had no such excuse now.
No damn excuse except for the fact that his thoughts had been so damn entangled because of her and...
Never again , he told himself forcefully. Never again would he let her affect him this way. Never again would he let her affect him to the point of making him do things completely out of character and say things he had no right to say.
Never again, he repeated to himself as he drank his lemon-infused water and read his messages—-
WHAT THE FUCK?
Shock had him sputtering over his glass, but words on the message thread between him and Diana didn't even waver. Words that he seemed to have fucking typed while he had been in the throes of fever and delirium. Words that he could no longer take back—-
His doorbell buzzed.
Because she was already here, outside his damn house.
The professor moved in record speed, taking a shower while issuing orders to his staff on loudspeaker. But despite his best efforts at multitasking, he still ended up making her wait for a good ten minutes before he was sufficiently presentable.
His housekeeper had already escorted Diana into his living room, allowing her to see him as he came out of the hallway. She stood up right away, and a part of him did the same thing, standing in immediate attention the moment she came into view.
Shit .
He was in trouble.
No, make that she was trouble.
Big fucking trouble, the kind that came in petite, slender packages but packed a fucking wallop. The kind that came with eat-you, eat-me eyes that had the power to enslave bastards like him. And the most damn vexing thing of all, she was the kind of trouble that noticed right away the attention-seeking banana in his fucking pocket.
"G-Good morning, Professor." Her voice was faint.
"Good morning." His voice, on the other hand, was raspy, with the professor unable to help but notice how her gaze kept darting to the rigid outline his erection had made against his trousers.
"I, um, brought something for you." If he wasn't in so much pain, he might've been amused at the way she had to drag her eyes off his arousal and reach for something—-
The professor blinked.
"I hope you're not allergic," she said shyly.
"No." The professor accepted the bouquet of flowers. "I'm, err, not." He gazed down at the fresh bunch of wild roses he had in his hands rather blankly, thinking he had never had someone gift him with flowers—-
Focus, you idiot.
He recalled himself with an effort, saying stiffly, "Thank you for this." He glanced at where his housekeeper stood in attentive silence, and at the professor's nod, Noel took the flowers from his hand, saying, "I'll take care of this, sir."
Matthijs nodded his thanks, and the other man took his leave. When he glanced back at Diana, she asked uncertainly, "Are you really okay?" And almost as if she couldn't help herself, she moved forward, and he inhaled sharply as her scent teased him.
It was an intriguing combination of feminine elegance - like one of those rare fragrant varieties of tulips - and something masculine (perhaps a hint of leather?). Whatever the combination was, its intangible message was broad as fucking daylight.
I'm a princess, her sweet, tart scent whispered, but I can get dirty...for the right man.
The professor's teeth gnashed. Message fucking delivered, and it was potent as hell, his trousers once again feeling like they were a damn size smaller than they should be.
"Let's go, shall we?" He walked away without another word, and he heard her follow behind him after a moment, doe eyes gobbling him up in that innocently hungry way that was uniquely hers.
Most of Matthijs' first-time visitors typically spent a lot of time gawking and gaping at their surroundings. Modesty aside, he knew damn well his house by the lake was an architectural masterpiece. A sprawling single-story estate designed with an impressive fusion of contemporary and rustic elements, its structure boasted of reclaimed wood logs fortified by black steel and glass walls that offered a 360-degree lakeshore backdrop for the professor's heirloom furniture.
All of this, and yet the damn girl hadn't even spared her surroundings more than a distracted glance. She only had eyes for him apparently, and so it remained even when they made it to the breakfast room, which his friends' wives remarked would be an irresistible delight for any woman.
Apparently, they were wrong.
He got his HomePod to work with a 'good morning,' but even having his range of smart appliances operate on its own proved incapable of making her glance away. It was only when music started playing in the background that she finally reacted, a surprised smile breaking over her lips.
"Is that Sunflower ?" she asked. "From Spiderverse ?"
"Not exactly." His voice was gruff. "It's a cover, by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra of Contini."
"Oh." A pause. Then, she said teasingly, " Snob alert. "
"It can't be helped," he answered with a disinterested shrug, "if I've a more elevated taste in music."
Diana seemed about to reply when the professor's live-in cook came in and she fell silent instead, her lips automatically curving in a smile, albeit tentatively, as she met the chef's gaze.
At Matthijs' nod, the other man began setting the table. "Good morning, mejuffrouw," Antoine said cheerfully. "I hope you like eggs Benedict and French toast."
"They're my favorites."
Her tone was a charming mixture of shyness and warmth, and while it was enough to win Antoine over, it also had him throwing his employer an odd look, almost as if questioning what an innocent like her was doing with a bastard like Matthijs.
The professor's lips twisted. You and me both, chef. He watched in brooding silence as the other man continued to fuss over Diana, asking her what she wanted for dessert and insisting that she try his famous lemon-and-cucumber shake.
By the time Antoine had finally taken his leave, thirty minutes had already passed, and the professor was considerably glad about this. The more time wasted, the better.
When he turned to face Diana, she seemed to be squirming on the other end of the table. He raised a brow, and she said haltingly, "I'm sorry I put you and your staff through all this trouble..."
"I should be the one apologizing," the professor dismissed smoothly, "considering I had you come all the way here." In fact, his delirious self had been very insistent about this. 'Don't make me wait a single second. I need to fucking see you' were, in fact, the exact words he had texted her, and remembering this made Matthijs wince slightly.
"So...um..." Diana cleared her throat. "Shall I say grace?"
"By all means." After all, that meant an additional ten seconds consumed.
Afterwards, Diana offered to start with the consultation while they had breakfast, but the professor demurred, saying he would rather have her properly enjoy Antoine's preparations.
When they finally moved to the professor's library at the other end of the hallway, it was already ten minutes past six.
Perfect.
Since his place was a ten-minute drive away from Helder Meer, it shouldn't be amiss if he had her leave by six forty-five. That meant he had, what, only 35 minutes left to kill?
The thought brought him relief, enough to put the professor in a far mellower mood as he took his seat behind the desk. Giving Diana a faint smile, he asked calmly, "Shall we start?"
"Of course." She leaned forward as she spoke, her V-necked dress dipping to reveal a plump amount of cleavage...and something else.
The professor's smile vanished.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK .
And everything he had managed to forget - the rest of the words he had texted her - all of it came back in a flash.
Diana: Why don't I just come now? I want to take care of you.
Matthijs: You can take care of me in every way you want tomorrow.
Diana: Is that a promise?
Matthijs: Depends. Have you ever tried teasing a man before?
Diana: Do I look - act - like I've tried teasing a man before?
Matthijs: *smirk* Not gonna lie, my darling. Virginity's never been a fetish of mine, but you're different. I haven't been able to stop imagining the countless things I'd like to do to your cunt. I wanna fuck it in every way. Fingers. Tongue. Dick.
Diana: I...have...no...words (but in a good, breathless way!)
Matthijs: I know this can be too much. So tell you what. Let's make a deal. You come here to my place tomorrow minus your pretties...that's a yes. You come here with your unmentionables on, that's a no.
Diana: And you'll know without me saying anything?
Matthijs: Fuck yes.
A guttural growl of frustration inadvertently escaped him, and Diana blinked in confusion. "Professor? Are you okay?" She leaned forward some more, and there was no way he could deny it this time, no way to unfucking see the fact...that her tits were completely bare under her dress.