Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 165

Sophie’s POV

Adrian is in the nursery with Amelia when I wake the next morning.

I stand in the doorway watching them—Adrian sitting in the rocking chair, holding our daughter with careful deliberation. He's talking to her softly, pointing out the mobile spinning above the crib, trying to engage her attention. His voice is gentle, patient in ways I haven't heard in months.

Amelia stares up at him with wide eyes. Not screaming. Not panicking. Just watching this man who is her father, trying to decide if he's safe. Her tiny hand reaches up, fingers grasping at air, and Adrian carefully extends his finger for her to hold.

Something in my chest constricts at the sight. This is what I wanted. What I've been desperate for since she was born. Adrian bonding with his daughter. Being present. Trying.

So why does it all suddenly feel wrong?

Adrian notices me and offers a tentative smile. "She let me pick her up without crying."

"That's good." My voice comes out neutral, carefully controlled. I'm still processing everything from last night—the proposal, the ring on my finger that feels foreign and heavy, the decision I made that I'm not entirely sure was right.

"I'm trying what Bellamy taught me. The hold, the rocking rhythm." Adrian demonstrates, gentle movements that show he's been paying attention. That he's actually learned something during his week away. "It seems to help. She's calmer than she used to be with me."

The mention of Bellamy's name makes something twist in my chest. A sharp, uncomfortable sensation I don't want to examine too closely.

"That's great, Adrian. Really." I force brightness into my tone. "Keep doing what you're doing. I just need some air for a minute."

"You okay?" His eyes search my face with concern that feels both genuine and too late.

"Fine. Just… processing. Last night was a lot."

He nods, seems to accept this. Returns his attention to Amelia, who's starting to fuss slightly. I slip away before he can ask more questions I don't have answers for.

The balcony is small, barely enough room for two people to stand comfortably. Bellamy is already there, leaning against the railing, staring out at the city sprawling below us. The morning sun catches in his hair, highlighting threads of gold I've never noticed before. He doesn't turn when I step outside, doesn't acknowledge my presence.

But his shoulders tense. He knows I'm here.

"Congratulations." His voice is carefully flat. Professional. Like we're strangers instead of people who've lived together for two weeks, who've shared late-night conversations and early morning chaos and every moment in between. "On the engagement."

The words land like stones dropped into still water. I move to stand beside him at the railing, leaving careful distance between us that suddenly feels deliberate. Meaningful.

"Thank you."

I twist the ring on my finger unconsciously. It's beautiful—I can acknowledge that objectively. But it feels like someone else's ring on someone else's hand.

"For everything you did while Adrian was gone. For moving in, taking care of me and Amelia, being there when I was completely falling apart. I don't know how I would have survived without…"

"I was just doing my job." He cuts me off, still not looking at me. Still staring at the city like it holds answers neither of us can find.

The dismissal stings more than it should. "That's bullshit and you know it."

Now he turns. His expression is guarded but I catch something beneath it—pain, maybe. Or anger. Or both. "What do you want me to say, Sophie?"

"The truth." I face him fully, abandoning the pretense of admiring the view. "It wasn't just a job. Not for weeks now. We both know that."

Bellamy's jaw tightens. He looks away again, gripping the railing hard enough that his knuckles go white against the metal. A long moment passes before he speaks. "No. It wasn't just a job."

The admission hangs between us, heavy with everything we've both been avoiding.

"Then why are you acting like this?" My voice rises slightly despite my attempt to stay calm. "Why are you pulling away? Being so cold?"

"Because I can't do this anymore." He finally meets my eyes and the intensity there makes my breath catch. "I need to leave. Can't continue as your security."

The statement hits like a physical blow. My stomach drops. "What? Why? Because Adrian is back? You can still work here—we need you. Noah and Amelia, they're so close now. You can't just…"

"It's not about them." His voice is rough, strained. "It's about me. About what I can and can't handle."

"I don't understand…"

"I can't watch you marry him, Sophie." The words burst out like they've been held back too long, fighting to escape. "I can't stand beside you at a wedding, can't be in this apartment while you build a life with Adrian, can't maintain professional boundaries that are already completely shattered."

My heart hammers against my ribs. Blood rushing in my ears. "Bellamy…"

"I'm not asking you to change anything." He steps closer and I can smell his cologne—something woodsy and familiar that I've gotten used to over weeks of proximity. "I'm just telling you I can't stay. Can't be professional anymore when everything inside me is screaming that this is wrong."

"What are you saying?" The question comes out barely a whisper. I already know. Part of me has known for weeks. But I need to hear him say it.

He steps closer still. We're inches apart now. I can see the pain carved into his features, the restraint that's been holding him together finally cracking like ice under too much pressure.

"I'm saying I'm in love with you."

His voice is raw, honest, devastating.

"Have been for months. Since before Adrian left. Since watching you transform into the mother Amelia needs. Since late-night conversations and formula explosions and every moment you looked at me like I mattered. Like I was more than just security."

My breath catches. Mind racing through every interaction, every moment of connection I told myself was just friendship or professional courtesy or gratitude for his help. All of it reframing itself in light of this confession.

The wine on the couch. The easy conversations. The way he looks at me when I'm feeding Amelia. How my heart lifts when he walks through the door. The safety I feel in his presence that I never felt with Adrian.

"I can't watch you marry him," Bellamy continues, voice breaking on the words. "Can't stand beside you pretending I'm okay with this when every instinct screams you deserve better. That we could be…"

He stops himself, jaw clenching. "It doesn't matter what we could be. You made your choice. I respect that. But I can't stay and watch it happen."

"I—" Words fail completely. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, in my fingertips, in every part of me that's suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. "I didn't know. I didn't realize you felt…"

"I know." His hand comes up, hovering near my face but not quite touching. Like he's afraid of what will happen if he makes contact. "You were focused on surviving. On Amelia. On grieving what Adrian destroyed. I wasn't expecting anything from you. But I can't keep pretending these feelings don't exist."

I freeze, speechless. Everything I've been avoiding for weeks crashes down at once. The way my heart lifts when Bellamy enters a room. How his presence makes me feel safe in ways Adrian never did. The ease between us that I convinced myself was just compatibility, just two people getting along well under difficult circumstances.

Not attraction. Not feelings. Not love.

The implications terrify me.

"Bellamy, I can't—I just got engaged—"

"I know." His voice cracks slightly and the sound breaks something inside me. "I know you chose him. I'm not asking you to change that. I'm not asking for anything. I just—I needed you to know. Before I leave. Before I walk away and you spend the rest of your life wondering why."

His hand finally makes contact, cupping my face with gentle fingers that make my skin burn where he touches. I should pull away. Should remind him I'm engaged, that I made my choice last night in front of him, that this crosses every line we've so carefully maintained for weeks.

But I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't do anything except stare at him while my heart tears itself in two completely different directions.

"Sophie." My name on his lips sounds like prayer and goodbye combined. Like worship and ending. Like everything I didn't know I wanted until this exact moment when I can't have it.

Then he kisses me.

Deep and desperate, pouring months of restrained longing into one devastating moment. His mouth claims mine with an intensity that steals my breath.