Page 140 of Teacher's Pet

And then, suddenly, another realization hits me.

He’s fucking drunk.

“You’re fucking drunk,” I hiss, taking a step back, pulse pounding. “Threatening students-”

“Students?” Noah laughs, the sound dark, sharp. He takes a slow step toward me, his fingers curling around the handle of his knife, yanking it free from the desk with a sickening scrape.

His movements are reckless.

But his eyes, his eyes are sharp as fucking glass.

“Walker is a pawn,” he sneers, closing the space between us like a predator stalking its prey.

Too close.

Too damn close.

“Just like me,” he murmurs, voice dripping with something dangerous.

Then, slowly, he turns the knife in his grip and presses the tip against his own chest.

What the fuck is he doing?

“Caught in family affairs,” he mutters, tapping the blade against his sternum like he’s taunting himself.

I swallow, my entire body on edge.

“Your brother-”

“God, look at you,” he growls, cutting me off.

His gaze rakes over me, devouring me whole, filled with something wild, something raw.

Don’t, Ana.

Don’t.

But it’s too late.

He sees me.

Sees everything I’m trying to hide.

Then, suddenly, he rips the knife away from his chest.

And I see it.

The haze of alcohol clouding his vision, dulling his movements just enough to make him unsteady.

His body wavers as he drops to his knees.

His hands find my thighs, his grip firm, desperate. His face is right there, mouth level with my stomach, breath warm against my skin.

His touch.

Fuck.

His touch feels so good.

---