Page 24 of Kiss the Villain

“Welcome to criminal law.” He speaks in that same deep, calm voice that makes my skin prickle. “This is not a course about theory or abstract principles; this is about understanding the very foundation of justice in society. Through this course, we will examine how the law distinguishes between right and wrong, but more importantly, how it punishes the wrongs.”

Is this bastard hearing a word he’s saying? How can he talk about punishing wrongs with a straight face after what he’s done?

“Gosh, he sounds so hot.” Morgan trails her red nails over my arm as she whispers in my ear, and this time, I’m about to scoot away.

Or I’ll bang her head on the desk for continuing to fuckingtouchme.

The prof’s eyes flit to me for a brief second, and I glare back.

“You, over there.” He juts his chin in my direction. “It appears you’ve mistaken this classroom for a social gathering. While I’m sure your companion finds your attention flattering, I suggest you remember where you are. This is a place for rigorous intellectual engagement, not an opportunity to parade your schoolboy charms.”

The whole class falls into oppressive silence.

Morgan’s face turns all shades of red.

I grab a pen in my hand to stop myself from jumping down there and throttling him on the spot.

He’s humiliating me on purpose. In front of thewholeclass.

A class that only knows me as a golden boy.

I let my lips curl into a smile. “Of course, Professor. I’ll be sure to keep my charms in check. Wouldn't want to disrupt your perfect class with anydistractions.”

I think I see a gleam amid the gray, but he directs his attention to the rest of the lecture hall. “You will be expected to think critically, analyze evidence, and confront uncomfortable truths. There is no room for leniency or weakness in this field. You are not here to make excuses for criminals. You are here to understand the system that holds them accountable. If you cannot accept that, then this course is not for you. Now, let's get to work.”

The PowerPoint slides turn on and he starts the lecture, his voice making my headache pound harder, more persistently that my vision blurs. My wound pulses in annoying frequency, and I suppress the urge to rip the fucking stitches out and dig my knife into it.

The longer he talks in that smooth, slightly austere tone, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, the more murderous I turn.

Howdarehe show up in front of me?

How can he be so damn…detached?

I slide my pen on the paper back and forth, back and forth.

As if I’m summoning a demon.

The whole class hangs on his every word, falling over each other to answer any questions he asks.

Bunch of fucking fools.

They’re all charmed by his looks, his eloquent manner of speaking, and the commanding way he carries himself. But none of them seems to see the monster lurking within.

Then again, I do use my looks as well, so I’m in no position to judge, but come on. The fucker is a literal criminal who’s teaching criminal law.

Usually, I’d answer all questions and impress the professor, but I’ve just been sliding the pen on my notebook while keeping him in my sight the entire time.

There’s this unfathomable itch beneath my skin, a nonsensical thought, that if I don’t pay attention, he might jump me again.

Even if we’re in a class full of people.

My head hurts worse the more I watch him moving effortlessly, speaking confidently.

Being all put together.

I want to ruin that.

Ruinhim.

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