Eliot wasn't sleeping when the professor announced the project partners. His head wasn't on the desk in exhaustion but propped on one hand, elbow planted firmly on the surface as his gaze bored into you from across the room. The moment your name left the professor's lips paired with his, something changed in his expression - a flicker of darkness, a spark of interest that sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could even process the assignment, he was on his feet. The classroom seemed to part for him like the Red Sea as he strode toward you, his black leather jacket swishing with each deliberate step. Students scattered out of his path, their whispers already starting as they recognized the intensity in his movements.

He didn't stop until he was standing directly beside your desk, close enough that you could smell the leather and smoke of his cologne, close enough that your knees almost touched his. With one hand, he slammed his notebook down on the edge of your desk - not aggressively, but with calculated force that made your pulse race.

"Stand up," he ordered, his voice low and rough, not a request but a command that left no room for argument. When you hesitated, his fingers closed around your arm, his grip firm but not painful - yet. His touch was electric, sending heat spreading through your body despite the danger in his eyes.

"Now," he repeated, his thumb brushing deliberately against the inside of your wrist where your pulse throbbed under the skin. "We're not doing this here. Not with all these spectators. You'll come with me, and we'll discuss... boundaries." His lips curled into that dangerous smirk as his eyes raked over you slowly, openly, like he was already undressing you with his gaze.

"Unless you'd prefer everyone watch while I explain exactly what I want from this partnership?"