Page 2 of Kismet

Turning toward the voice, the flirty bartender from before is smiling at me. “Yes, ma’am. Can I please get three tequila shots? Patron, please.”

“Coming right up, sugar.”

My attention is pulled back toward the dance floor while I wait. The woman is now facing him, her arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders, their bodies pressed together. His hands are resting on her ass—which is almost hanging out with how short her shorts are. His full lips hover over her ear as he whispers something to her. Then his gaze lifts, landing on me.

I freeze, and like a moron, turn around as fast as possible, awkwardly bumping into the person beside me.Because that’s not fucking obvious.Thankfully, the bartender comes back with my shots, so it’s not too embarrassing if he’s still watching me.

“Here you go, hun.”

“Thanks so much!”

On my way back to the table, my eyes scan the room. Like there is a magnetic force between us, my gaze lands on him easily. He’s still watching me, but the look on his face is one I can’t read. His eyes look curious, but his brows are pinched. I force my gaze to return in front of me, so I don’t make an ass out of myself by bumping into someone else and bathing myself in tequila.

“Alright, boys.” Passing out the shots to Weston and Knox, we salt up our hands and raise our shot glasses in the air. “To making this the best year yet. Cheers!”

We toss our shots back, the strong, silken liquid sliding down my throat and warming my chest. Sticking the lemon slice between my lips, I suck the sour juices as my eyes once again gravitate toward the dance floor.

Leather Daddy and his woman are gone.

Returning my focus to my friends, we shoot the shit for the next half hour. Knox gets us another round of beers, while Branson continues to nurse his water. I haven’t seen that couple at all; they must’ve left. It’s getting late, I guess—a quarter to midnight.

“Hey, I’m gonna hit the bathroom. Be right back,” I shout over the music to the guys.

The bathroom in this place is on the far side of the bar, opposite to where our table is. If possible, this place is even more packed now than when we first got here. The band finished up; the DJ having now taken over. Punk rock music is thumping and pulsing through the speakers, sweaty bodies moving against one another seductively.

My ears ring from the sudden loss of noise as I walk into the bathroom. I take a spot at the far-right urinal, unzipping my jeans, and pulling myself out. As I’m pissing, the door opens, and someone takes the farthest urinal to my left. Glancing that way, my pulse speeds up when my gaze takes in Leather Daddy.

Holy shit.

I know it’s bad manners to look at another dude’s dick in the bathroom, but fuck, do I want to.I won’t. But I want to. Once I finish my business, I give myself a little shake before tucking myself back in and zipping my pants up. I spin on my heels and stand in front of the sinks that are right behind me, turning the hot water on and starting to wash my hands.

He comes up next to me while I’m scrubbing, our gaze meeting in the mirror. He smiles at me, a white, straight grin that lights up his whole face. His eyes are also a stunning hazelnut brown, rich and velvety.

“Cash, right?”

What the fuck?“Uh, yeah?”

He chuckles, the sound like music to my ears. “You’re in my English class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m Stone—well, Professor Philips.”

Holy fucking shit. Leather Daddy is my fucking English professor!? How did I not put that together? “Shit, I didn’t even recognize you. My bad.”

“Nah, you’re good. I look different outside of class. It’s an easy miss.”

That’s an understatement. In class, he’s all professional—tailored suits, Oxfords, his black hair slicked back and tame, and he wears glasses. Right now, he is the opposite of tame, and it’s fucking sexy. Not that he isn’t sexy in class, because he is… I guess I just never noticed before now.

He clears his throat, and I realize I’m staring. “Well, have a good night, Cash. I’ll see you in class Tuesday.”

“Yeah, you too, Professor Philips.”

“Please. Outside of school, you can just call me Stone. Not that we’ll probably run into each other much outside of class, but still.”

“Stone. Okay, have a great night.”

He pulls open the door, the booming music filling the bathroom as he leaves.Shit.Of course, the hottie at the bar is my fucking professor… and off fucking limits.

Fuck me all the way to hell.

Part One

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