Page 76 of Sweet Touch of Venom

Demand your own room.

I knock—because it’s polite.

“Open.”

I inhale deeply to slow the racing beat of my heart; my hands are already clammy. I wipe my hand on my pants, then walk inside. I don’t need to look any further because there he sits. Behind his L shaped mahogany desk, his elbow resting on the armrest with his finger grazing over his scar.

I tilt my head, treading into the room.I am curious to know what happened to his face.Though now is not the time.

There’s a large computer on top of his desk, and he is watching the screen with deep concentration. The room is dark, exuding a heavy amount of masculine tones and style. Ebony, wooden baseboards and trim line the wood panels and matte black paints the walls. An oversized black couch sits off to the side near another door.

A secret door.

A few frames with students and their achievements hang on the walls, but nothing else.

Minimalistic.

Exceptionally, him.

Without taking his eyes off the screen. “Is there something you need…” His words trail off when he spots me strolling up to his desk with my hands clasped behind my back.

He lowers his hand, the mood in his energy shifting, his eyes dimming into a carnal haze, and I’m immediately swallowing more than usual.

The closer I got, the more I noticed his attire. Dark brown turtleneck with a suede chestnut suit jacket. He looks very…

Studious and suave. His hair is tousled, probably from threading his fingers through it. It’s a complete 360° from the all black combat wear. You wouldn't think he could flip the switch and chop a man’s head off with a smile on his face.

I gather my breath, hoping to steady my heartbeat. “We need to talk.” I stand, although there’s a nice, comfy sofa and two plush leather seats propped a few feet from his desk. I cross my arms since my sweaty palms need something to do.

He doesn’t take his eyes off me nor acknowledge what I said. I only receive that piercing stare—the one that can split my soul in half—and a clench to his jaw as he rubs his chin. So slowly, he skates his gaze up my body, not even hiding that he’s practically undressing me with his eyes. I shift with unease, heat blazes on my neck to my forehead.

“You look beautiful.”

With those little words, that heat fills my entire body, and my chest blows up like a bomb. I’ve been called beautiful many times by all kinds of men, but never has my body reacted in the way it does when he says it. I tap my foot to match the thumps of my heart. I’m only wearing brown denim jeans with an off shoulder black knit sweater; I’m not sure what’sbeautifulabout it.

“How’s your hand?” He looks at it before setting his gaze back on me. Suddenly, it all feels like DÉJÀ VU. I need to stop destroying my hands.

I raise it, opening and closing it, even with the bandages on it.

“It’s fine. Thank you for asking.” I lower it, focusing on the reason I came here. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m not stopping you.” He adjusts his shoulder, getting comfortable.

“You said once you trust me, I can get my own room.”

He nods slightly.

I shift on my boots. “I think I have. I saved your life, after all.” The words are thick on the roof of my tongue. I hate to bring that up, but it is true.

He lets out a deep hum, then rises to stand, tall and broad. He fluffs out his jacket, scooting the chair back.

What is he doing?

My heartbeat rises again. Truth be told, I’m doing this because I respect him and this little school, but if it were anyone else, I would’ve packed my shit and found my own damn room.

“So, you think you’ve earned it?” Each of his steps to me is slow and labored.

I stuff the knot that’s forming up my throat. “Something of that sort, yes.”

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