The Professor’s Rules

Chapter One: The Unwritten Chapter

Sara Hale didn’t believe in fate—at least, not until the day she stepped into Professor Kael Monroe’s office.

She wasn’t supposed to be there. The university's prestigious Advanced Literature Mentorship was reserved for the top 1%—a secret list handpicked by the enigmatic professor himself. Sara was smart, no doubt. Sharp with her words. But quiet. Invisible. She hadn’t applied. She hadn’t even dared.

And yet, there her name was.

She stared at the letter she’d received two days earlier, the professor’s ink signature curling across the bottom like an invitation she couldn’t refuse.

It felt like a trap.

Or maybe a dare.

She stepped inside.

The office was dimly lit, the smell of old books and cinnamon lingering in the air. Heavy curtains blocked most of the afternoon light, casting long shadows across rows of ancient texts and leather-bound journals. On the wall hung a single framed quote:

_“A writer is a world trapped in a person.”_

She ran her finger along the words just as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You’re early.”

His voice was deeper than she imagined. Smooth, but with an edge. She turned slowly.

Kael Monroe stood by his desk, wearing a dark grey vest over a black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was younger than most professors, mid-thirties maybe, with storm-gray eyes and a mouth that seemed to carry permanent amusement.

“I didn’t expect to be chosen,” she admitted.

“I didn’t choose you,” he replied.

Her brow furrowed.

He moved closer, and something about the way he walked—deliberate, silent—made her breath catch.

“The words chose you,” he said simply. “And the words never lie.”

---

Chapter Two: The Professor’s Rules Manuscript

Sara expected the mentorship to be about theory. About analyzing dead poets and dissecting metaphors. But Kael had different plans.

“There are three rules,” he said during their first session. “Rule one: no outside reading. Only the texts I give you. Rule two: no discussing your writing with anyone but me. And rule three…”

He leaned forward, voice low.

“No one enters the east bookshelf. Ever.”

Of course, that was the only thing she wanted to do now.

Each week, he handed her obscure novels—some out of print, some hand-annotated in beautiful but slanted handwriting that mirrored his. They discussed character flaws, emotional motives, and love—always love—as if it were a weapon.

And it was with him.

There was something magnetic about Kael. Something dangerous.

He listened too closely. He watched her like a story unraveling. And when he spoke about passion or pain, she swore his voice dropped an octave, like he was speaking from experience.

One night, after a particularly intense discussion about unspoken desire in 19th-century literature, Sara lingered.

“Do you believe in forbidden love?” she asked.

Kael tilted his head. “Only the forbidden parts are real. The rest is fantasy.”

Then he stood, brushing past her shoulder—close enough that his breath warmed her neck—and whispered:

“But sometimes, fantasy writes the truth.”

---

Chapter Three: Breaking the Rules

She lasted three weeks before breaking Rule Three.

The east bookshelf was chained, but not locked. Hidden behind a thick velvet curtain.

She waited until he left one evening and slipped inside.

At first, it was just old manuscripts. Dusty. Untouched.

Until she found it.

A single red leather-bound book. No title. No author.

She opened it.

Her heart stopped.

It was filled with fantasies. Erotic, romantic, explicit. Written like confessions. Raw and beautiful and so intimate it felt like trespassing.

And they were all about… her.

Descriptions of her voice. Her walk. The curve of her neck. Scenarios—her in his office, in the library, on his desk.

The last page had a date.

Tomorrow.

And a single line: _“She will come to me. At last.”_

---

Chapter The Professor’s Rules: Heat

The next day, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Kael noticed.

He always noticed.

“Sara,” he said slowly, “you’ve changed.”

She swallowed. “What if I said I broke a rule?”

His eyes darkened. “Then I’d say it’s time to write a new one.”

He stepped closer, and this time, she didn’t move away.

His hand lifted, fingertips grazing her jaw.

“You read the book,” he whispered.

She nodded.

“Then you know,” he said, voice like thunder wrapped in silk, “exactly what I want.”

Their lips met before logic could interfere.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t safe.

It was a firestorm.

His mouth was demanding. Hers, desperate. The kiss was messy, stolen, tasted like ink and secrets. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her against him, her body arching, inviting.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Now you understand the rules,” he murmured.

And just like that, she was part of the story.

---

The Professor’s Rules – Part 2

Chapter Five: The Manuscript’s Secret

The next morning, Sara awoke with Kael’s taste still lingering on her lips.

She didn’t know if what happened had crossed a line—or blurred it. All she knew was that something had shifted. The air between them now crackled, electric and dangerous.

When she arrived at the next mentorship session, Kael was calm. Too calm. He didn’t mention the kiss. He didn’t even meet her gaze.

Instead, he slid a new book toward her.

“This,” he said, “is the one that defines what we are.”

She turned the cover. No title. Just his handwriting inside the front page: _“To the student who rewrote my ending.”_

---

Chapter Six: The Story Behind the Desk

Days passed, filled with stolen glances, words that dripped with double meanings, and an unspoken pull that neither of them denied.

Sara began to write again—but not essays or literary analysis. She wrote stories. About them.

Scenes that had never happened, but could. And Kael read them all.

“Your words,” he said one afternoon, tracing his finger along the ink, “are sinfully honest.”

Her breath hitched. “Is that good or bad?”

He leaned in. “It’s everything.”

They kissed again that night. This time, slower. His hands tangled in her hair. Her fingers on his buttons. They stopped only when she moaned his name.

He whispered, “Not yet.”

His control was infuriating. Addictive.

---

Chapter Seven: Rule Four

“You broke Rule Three,” Kael said days later. “Now I’ll give you Rule Four.”

She swallowed.

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

Too late.

But Sara didn’t say that.

He turned to his window, voice distant. “I’ve ruined students before. I won’t do it again.”

“You haven’t ruined me.”

“Not yet.”

That night, she stayed behind. He read her newest story—one where she begged him to touch her, and he gave in.

When he reached the final line, he closed the notebook, eyes burning. “Do you want this?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I want you.”

He kissed her like punishment and promise. She gasped as he lifted her onto his desk, papers scattering. His lips trailed down her neck. Heat built between them, slow and aching.

But he stopped again.

“This isn’t the chapter we’re meant to write,” he said, stepping back.

Tears stung her eyes. “Then what are we doing?”

Kael’s answer was silence.

---

Chapter Eight: The Other Woman

The next morning, a rumor hit campus.

Kael Monroe had a girlfriend. A fellow professor. One who left him a year ago.

Sara’s heart broke without even being touched.

She confronted him.

“I heard about her.”

He didn’t deny it.

“She left,” he said. “But not before stealing something from me.”

Sara felt the words like a slap. “Like what?”

“My ability to trust my own judgment.”

“Then why are you kissing me?”

Kael looked at her, and this time, the professor mask dropped.

“Because I thought you’d be the story that saved me.”

“And now?”

He paused. “I don’t know.”

Sara left before he could see her cry.

---

Chapter Nine: What the Letters Revealed

She didn’t return for a week.

Instead, she broke Rule One—and read the letters hidden in the red manuscript.

They weren’t just fantasies.

They were confessions. Entries of grief. Of loss. Kael had written to a woman named Elise. The professor who left him.

Each line screamed pain.

_“She said my love suffocated her, that I watched her too closely, wrote her into cages.”_

_“She said I never saw her. Only the version I wanted to write.”_

Sara slammed the book shut.

She had to know who she was to him.

A muse? A student? Or just a replacement?

---

Chapter Ten: The Fire

Sara returned that night.

Kael was alone. Drunk. And reading her newest story.

He looked up when she entered.

“I wanted you to stay away,” he said. “You didn’t.”

“Because I need to hear it,” she said. “The truth. What am I to you?”

He stood, closing the distance.

“You’re the flame. The one that burns cleaner than anything I’ve ever written.”

Then, he took her hand. Pulled her toward him.

Their kiss this time was desperate. Clothes fell away. Her shirt hit the floor. His hands traced her spine. Her thighs wrapped around his waist.

“I don’t care about the rules anymore,” he growled.

And then he finally made her his.

Soft. Slow. Rough. Tender.

They didn’t stop until the sun came up.

---

[To Be Continued in Part 3...]