Page 25 of Jerk
“I’ll be back.” Ignoring their questions, I follow the scent of that sweet and spicy perfume.
“I told you to stay away, Rowen!” Mac calls, but my focus isn’t on him.
Groups of students part for me as I walk through the bright green grass, following that sleek dark hair, that round ass and those slender legs.
Like she knows, her steps pick up, but I’m not making a scene. Not this time. So for now, I chase her like the little kitten she is.
There’s a glimpse of a smile when she looks back, like she knows she just got away with murder, but it won’t be that easy.
She enters the main building with more students, TAs and profs roaming about. She straightens up as she passes Dean Patel, going into the auditorium with a group of freshmen. I keep on her tail, Patel eyeing us both as I reach into my pocket for my phone. Dialling her number, I wait for it to ring. She takes one look at her phone, and it’s enough to slow her down as she bumps into a couple of lost students.
“Excuse me!” she yells, but it’s too late. My hand lands on her arm, and she graces me with a gasp.
“Not so fast, Kitten.” With a tight grip, I move her into the Dean’s reception area. Shiny wooden floors match the wooden reception desk, dim lighting shining on school accolades and donation plaques.
“Let go,” Hannah snips back, tugging from my hold. She slaps at my hand, my grip tightening. “I have a lecture.”
“Tough.”
“Dean Patel isn’t here right now!” The receptionist calls as we pass the glass-walled conference room, more plaques and favourable headlines on each side. This place gives the same vibe that the rest of The Hill has. Shining light on our perfection hides the darkness in us all.
Pushing Hannah into Patel’s office, I close the door, drowning out calls from reception. Her body slams into the thick wooden desk, Patel’s golden nameplate wobbling as her eyes meet mine.
“The Dean’s office?” Hannah scoffs. “One minute you’re saving me from the cops, the next you’re trying to get me expelled?”
“You’re right,” I say, locking the door behind me. “I did save you from the cops, but you forgot your manners.” My fingerstrail along the wainscot walls showcasing portraits of old men framed in gold.
Knock! Knock!
“Hello?” The receptionist’s voice comes from behind the door. “You can’t be in there!”
“I’m supposed to thank you for locking me in the Dean’s office?” Hannah crosses her arms. “What did you stuff up your nose this time?”
I chuckle, taking a step forward. I don’t miss the way her shoulders rise when I get close to her. Nothing intimidates Hannah Alfonso. Except me.
When I’m by the desk, I let my fingers trail the smooth wood to a pair of golden scissors, gripping them in my hand.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Hello!” The receptionist’s voice rings through the door again.
“What do you want, Rye?” Hannah asks, exasperation in her tone. “I’m not getting on Patel’s shit-list because of you.”
One more step, and Hannah backs up again, squeezing herself against the desk. I’m a few inches away, and I can feel the heat off her, the light shining on her soft skin. I bring the tip of my boots to her heels, and her chest stops moving, like I’ve literally taken her breath away.
Lowering my head, I search those possessed eyes for what I want. “Say thank you.” My words come out as stern as I mean them.
Her eyes narrow. “I’m not thanking you for ruining my life.”
Hannah, between me and a desk with a sharp object is starting to become routine. It’s one of the only things that gets her looking at me like she is now. Like I’m winning.
“Sending your frenemy with the cops and saving you from the wrath of my father is far from ruining your life.” I trail the scissors up her arm, as lightly as I did the glass and the skate.My free hand loosens a button on my shirt, the air warm. “Or are you talking about the way your body responds when I touch you right… here.” I rest the pointy edge of the scissors right on her collarbone, and that makes her jump. The tip of the scissors pushes into her skin before I pull them away. “Careful, Kitten. You don’t want to get hurt, do you?”
“You can’t keep me in here,” Hannah says, her voice thinning out.
“Don’t you get it, Hannah?” I press the scissors against her throat, watching her chest rise. “I can do whatever the fuck I want with you. Whenever I want.”
Knock, knock, knock!
