Page 8 of Tenure

“Engineering?”

I take another step towards her, and she takes half a step back before seeming to catch herself. She looks . . . nervous.

Cute.

“Please tell me you’re not an arts major.”

Her mouth twitches. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Are you taking a year off? To figure it out?”

I take another step towards her. She doesn’t back up this time, but I can see her chest rising and falling, her breath speeding up.

I close the distance, stepping into her personal space, her skin shifting from rosy pink to beet red, her fingers twisting together in front of her and her eyes everywhere but on me. She’s tense, fidgety, just a few inches between us, her mouth slightly parted and chest downright heaving.

“Kiernan?”

“What!”

“Look at me.”

But she doesn’t. She just stands there, breathing, and smelling like freesia.

Her fidgeting hands still and then she balls them at her sides, continuing to stare at my chest.Defiant little bitch.

“I said look at me!”

She does, her mouth twisted with irritation and the kind of rage that should have me backing up, but instead I take another step towards—

SLAP.

It echoes like a fucking gunshot, my head jerked to the side, that slap reverberating around the room, filling up the entire damn space with tension.

I raise my hand to my cheek and touch it with my fingertips. She’s staring up at me, her expression molten, and my knees almost fucking buckle.

But as she opens her mouth to—I don’t know what, scream maybe?—I close the gap between us, grab her chin, and kiss her.

6

Kiernan

What. The. Fuck.

My palm is on fucking fire but before I even have a chance to register it his hand is yanking my face to his and his tongue is down my throat.

His fingers hurt, his lips hot and angry and desperate, and I’m so completely and utterlyflabbergastedthat I don’t think to push him off. I just stand there dumbly, numb, confused as hell, as his fingers press harder into my skin.

He pulls back after a moment, the tips of our noses touching, his hazel eyes on fire.

“Kiss me back.”

It isn’t a question.

“No,” I grit out.

His free hand snaps out to the back of my head, gripping a fistful of my hair and yanking me backwards so I’m staring up at him. My pulse is erratic, my skin is buzzing, my heartis pounding out of my chest, but I can’t move, can’t form full thoughts . . .

He grips my chin tighter still, his thumb tracing my bottom lip before he pushes it into my mouth. My lips close around his thumb involuntarily and I suck, his eyes flaring in surprise.

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