Chapter 2

The next day, Heather made a visit to Montax University.

Jason taught there.

Unlike his brother, Brett, who was bold and shrewd, Jason was reserved but brilliant.

On the podium, he wore a crisp white shirt, glasses perched on his nose, and he spoke with eloquence, lecturing about the history of Western oil paintings.

Heather sat in the last row, then pulled out her phone to send him a message.

"Professor, that nude painting you just talked about—don't you think her body isn't as good as mine?"

Jason glanced over the students, spotting Heather. Without a hint of reaction, he turned back to continue his lecture.

Heather rested her chin on her hand. Art wasn't something she understood, but watching Jason roll up his sleeves as he spoke passionately about his subject was undeniably attractive.

She sent another message, "Professor, did you see my tattoo? Care to give it an artist's critique?"

Though Jason's expression didn't change, his rhythm faltered. His movements as he flipped through his notes grew hurried.

Smiling, Heather typed again, "Professor, how about trying it in the classroom with me?"

At that moment, the book in Jason's hand slipped from his grasp and fell to the desk. Heather's grin widened mischievously.

After class, she found his car and climbed inside right after him.

Jason shot her a cold look. "Get out. Heather, if you keep acting this shameless, I'll send all your messages to my brother."

Heather appeared unfazed. She pulled out her phone and showed him a video.

As soon as the video started, the sound of frantic, breathless moans filled the car, and Jason instinctively turned his face away.

Heather laughed. "Professor, don't you think those two people look familiar?"

Jason finally looked back at the screen, where the video had paused on a clear shot of the man's face.

It was Brett.

The woman in the video had her back to the camera, but there was no mistaking the red birthmark on her waist.

Heather watched Jason in silence, noticing his dazed expression. Feeling generous, she leaned in and whispered, "The woman your brother got pregnant—it's your girlfriend, Chrishell."

Jason, however, wasn't as rattled as she'd expected. He pulled his gaze away, cold and unaffected. "I don't need you to tell me that. Get out of the car."

Heather moved closer, her lips brushing his ear. "Jason, let's get back at them, right here in the car."

Startled as if by an electric shock, Jason recoiled. "Heather, get out!"

She slid onto his lap, positioning herself deliberately. "Your brother stole your woman. Isn't it only fair you steal his?" she teased, her voice soft but wicked.

Jason remained unmoved, his hands firm on her shoulders, holding her at bay.

But Heather could feel the subtle shift in him. Smiling, she moved against him, her hips teasing with a slow rhythm. "You say no, but, Professor, what's this I feel?"

The vein in Jason's temple pulsed visibly. "Get off!" he growled.

He reached for the door, ready to throw her out with force, but before he could act, Heather cupped his face and pressed her lips hard against his, capturing the coolness of his thin, soft lips in a fierce kiss.

It was just like the video of Chrishell kissing Brett, full of passion and intensity.

What surprised Heather most was how good Jason tasted—clean, fresh, and warm, his lips both soft and heated. And to her satisfaction, he unconsciously responded, just a little, but enough to make her feel the spark.

Heat rose within her.

After being ignored and neglected by Brett for so long, Heather needed compensation. She needed the touch of another man to erase the cold indifference she'd endured.

Just as her mind spun with excitement, a loud horn blared from the car beside them, shattering the moment.

Before Heather could react, Jason quickly pulled her into his arms, pressing her against his chest.

From outside, a playful voice called out, "Jason, you've got some wild moves, don't you?"

It was Brett.

Pressed against Jason's chest, Heather could hear his calm, steady heartbeat as he replied, "Brett, what are you doing here?"

"Just handling some business," Brett said, leaning casually against the car door. He squinted, trying to peer through the narrow crack of the window, eager to see who Jason was embracing.

But Jason kept her tightly shielded, not even allowing a glimpse of the back of her head.

All Brett could make out was her shapely figure and a sliver of pale skin exposed at the waist, smooth and slender under her clothes.

Knowing Brett was just inches away, the thrill of revenge surged through Heather. Her hand slipped down, grazing Jason's waist.

She heard him take a sharp breath, just as her fingers found his zipper and pulled it down in one swift motion.