Page 26 of Kiss the Villain

“Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking about last night. It’s making me hard, and this is not the appropriate place to come down that throat again.”

My fingers tighten around my notebook and the wound tingles beneath the bandage. There’s nothing I want to do more than grab his fucking head and smash it against that desk.

Spill his blood.

Cut his dick off.

But then, that would be impulsive. And I don’t do that.

Ordidn’t—past tense. Because, really, since last night, I’ve been the personification of a ticking time bomb.

I let my lips curve in a smile. “That won’t be happening.”

“Let’s disagree agreeably.”

“What’s the definition of agreeably to you? A gun to my head?”

“If you want.”

“I want nothing from you. Oh wait, I want you to rot in jail.”

A twitch touches the corner of his lips. “Not a chance.”

“Because you can manipulate the justice you preach?”

“No. Because you’d be rotting right there beside me.” He rises to his full height. “I don’t have to tell you what I’d do to you in that cell, do I?”

Fucking creep.

I keep my smile in place, adopting a mocking tone. “Wow. I’m surprised you don’t have a PhD in psychotic behavior. Do you often prey on your students?”

“Only little monsters like yourself.” He approaches me and I remain still, refusing to give in to the authoritativeness he exudes with every step.

Like a robot—or a tank—that will smash everything in its wake.

Well, I’m the fortress facing the tank.

There will be no smashing. At least, not from his side.

He stops a few inches away, but I can still smell him. The faintest hint of wood and amber floods my nostrils and a string of memories follow.

Thrusting, gagging, choking, groaning, writhing for something,anything.

Stop.

“Tell me, Carson.” His voice is close now and so are his eyes that are peering into my soul. “How did you manage to hide that revolting personality until now?”

I look at him but say nothing. If he believes he can ruffle my feathers, he truly doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Punching down has never affected me.

And despite the massive headache and the constant screech of my demons for blood, I maintain my calm.

He cocks his head to the side, giving me a mechanical once-over, as if I’m a piece of art he finds unsightly. “The other professors can’t stop singing your praises. They said you’re so hardworking and loveable. The best student any professor could have. Either they’re excruciatingly blind or you’re just so staggeringly charming.”

“You don’t find me charming?” I let my lips form a mock pout.

His gaze slides down, zeroing in on the motion, and something flashes there before he meets my eyes again. “I think we’ve established that you have a magnificent ability to be grotesque.”

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