Juliette was eighteen when she let a stranger ruin her in Paris. No name. Just his hand fisted in her hair while she learned what her body was built for. She flew home with his fingerprints still on her throat and the taste of him burned into her tongue.
The first day of college, Louis writes his name on the whiteboard. Same voice that ordered her to her knees. Same eyes that watched her break apart. He's her professor now. She's his student. And he's already locked the door.