OMG! I Sent a Lingerie Pic to My Professor Ex!

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting dappled shadows across my bedroom. I adjusted the straps of my black lace lingerie set, posing seductively for the phone camera propped on my vanity.

"Perfect." I smiled with satisfaction at the photo I'd just taken, ready to send it to brand representative Sarah for feedback.

My finger quickly scrolled through my contacts, looking for names starting with "S"—damn it, my phone suddenly lagged, and I hastily tapped a name and hit send.

"What do you think of this angle? Any suggestions for poses that might showcase the product better? Need your guidance on this."

The message sent successfully. I set down my phone and continued organizing my photo shoot props. As a lingerie model, this kind of work communication was perfectly normal.

Next, I changed into several different colored sets—white, deep blue, and finally today's featured piece: a deep red lace ensemble. Each set required different angles and poses. The work was going smoothly, and I hummed softly while shooting.

After finishing the last set of photos, I stretched and headed to the kitchen to make coffee.

That's when the doorbell rang.

I was still wearing the deep red lace set I'd just finished shooting—a half-cup bra with intricate lace patterns that revealed tantalizing glimpses, paired with matching lace panties tied with delicate ribbons at the hips. This was today's final outfit, sexy yet elegant.

I peered through the peephole and saw a uniformed delivery man at my door, holding a package. It must be the new lingerie samples I'd ordered. I was about to grab my robe when I saw through the peephole that the delivery man had left, probably thinking no one was home.

Whatever, he should have left the package at the door. I opened the door to grab it quickly—this outfit was just work clothes to me, and opening the door briefly to get a package was no big deal.

The moment I opened the door, I froze.

Stephen stood there, holding the package, having apparently just accepted the delivery for me. He froze too when he saw me, his eyes involuntarily sweeping over my nearly naked body.

"Stephen?" I blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Your message..." his voice was hoarse as he struggled to look elsewhere. "I thought you were in trouble."

Wait... who did I send that message to? I quickly replayed my earlier actions, my heart skipping a beat. Damn it, I'd sent it to the wrong person!

"I... I thought you needed help?" he continued, his gaze involuntarily returning to my half-naked body.

I felt his burning stare, my cheeks growing warm. While this was just my job, being looked at this way by my ex-boyfriend still made my heart race.

Watching him try to maintain his gentlemanly composure while stealing glances, complex emotions swirled within me. Three months ago when I dumped him, it was because I was sick of his rigidity and rules. He was always criticizing my work, thinking I should find a "respectable" job, as if my choices embarrassed him.

But now, seeing him rush over because of what he thought was a cry for help, I had to admit—this uptight professor still had no resistance to me.

"Oh, that..." I was about to explain the mistaken message when a loud crash came from the kitchen.

"What the hell—"

The pipes had burst again, water spraying everywhere in the kitchen. These damn pipes had broken down three times this month, and the landlord always just patched them up half-heartedly.

"God, perfect timing!" I couldn't bother explaining the mistaken message, grabbing Stephen's arm and feeling his solid muscles. "Do you know how to fix this?"

Stephen immediately took off his jacket and rushed into the kitchen, crouching down to shut off the main valve. The water gradually stopped, but the kitchen floor was soaked.

"Looks like it needs a new fitting." He rummaged through my toolbox for a wrench and sealing tape, examining the damaged pipe. "I'll seal it with tape for now, but you need to get someone to fix it properly soon."

"Thank you." I crouched beside him, handing him tools and deliberately staying close. "You're my lifesaver."

Stephen's white shirt was soaked and clinging to his body, showing off his perfect muscle definition. I remembered every inch of that body, remembered his touch. I also remembered his shocked expression when we broke up—he never thought I'd leave him for being "too boring."

Water splashed onto my lace lingerie, making the semi-transparent fabric even more revealing. I pretended to accidentally brush his arm: "Thanks for coming to fix my hard pipe..."

I deliberately lowered my voice, making it sound seductive: "Your hands are really skillful."

Stephen's movements froze, and I saw his Adam's apple bob. He slowly turned his head, our faces only inches apart.

"Marlee..." his breathing became labored.

I moistened my lips, looking at him with hazy eyes. The fire of desire was fully ignited within me.

Stephen put down his tools, reaching out to embrace me—

Though my body craved his touch, I knew it wasn't the right time yet. I wanted him to know I wasn't so easily obtained.

"We're exes, Stephen." I suddenly stepped back, a flash of satisfaction in my eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this."

Watching his hand freeze mid-air, seeing him burning with desire but doused with cold water, I felt a twisted satisfaction.

"Though..." I looked him up and down seductively, taking in his soaked body. "You do look very sexy when wet."

He looked ready to explode. Perfect.

"You should take a shower." I pointed toward the bathroom, trying to keep my voice normal. "I'll get you some clean clothes."

While Stephen was in the bathroom, I heard the door lock turn. Barney was home.

When Stephen emerged from the bathroom wearing my robe, he ran right into Barney, who was coming through the door with his keys.

"Professor Stephen?" Barney blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

I froze instantly. What? They knew each other? How did Barney know Stephen? And why was he calling him Professor?

Stephen's face turned ashen, his gaze moving back and forth between Barney and me, his eyes filled with disbelief and rage.

"I..." Stephen's voice trembled, as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately said nothing.

I saw the pain in his eyes and... jealousy? But why? What the hell was going on?

"No... Stephen, wait—" I wanted to explain something, but I didn't even know what to explain.

Stephen had already rushed out the door, not even bothering to close it behind him.

I chased to the doorway, watching his car speed away, my heart pounding. What happened? Why did he look so pained?

"Sis, why was Professor Stephen at our place?" Barney looked confused. "And why was he so angry?"

"I don't know either..." I stared blankly in the direction Stephen had disappeared, my mind full of questions.

Why would Stephen know Barney? Why did his face turn so dark when he heard Barney call him Professor? And that pained expression when he left...

I returned to my bedroom, the scene replaying in my mind over and over.

Stephen Miller, what the hell are you thinking?