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Chapter 3

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The intruding crowd is negligent of personal space, and he's a solid barrier between them and me.

But the position makes me feel like a dainty, feminine puddle of goo, and I want to put on a corset so I call him a hero in a breathy, helpless voice.

His cologne tickles my nose and I can't stop myself from leaning in for a subtle sniff.

Warm notes of sandalwood and citrus seduce my senses, and I want to mold myself into him.

"Are you wearing...Acqua Di Gio?

He looks down at me with a smile of satisfaction. "Have dinner with me."

"Why would I do that?" My voice comes out more soft and shaky than I'd like.

"Do you like food?" He asks slowly, arching a teasing brow. I narrow my eyes at him, to which he smiles broader and grabs my hand. "There's your reason."

"Wait—"

He leads us back inside, and instinctively the crowd shuffles to make way. Again, I'm taken by surprise by how he shields me from ongoing traffic. The music is too loud, so I can't say anything until we reach the hallway lined with bathrooms, exit door on the other side.

"Who said I want to have dinner with you?" I ask, crossing my arms.

He smiles, two feet apart. "Fine, no dinner. What do you want?"

The bathroom door opens behind me as someone steps out. I don't think, but on some reckless, physical impulse, I reach for his hand and pull both of us inside. It's a horrible move given the filth and stench inside, but much safer than outside.

My back is pressed against the locked door as I look up at him. I should say something sexy right now.

"Um, uh..."

Smooth.

Jake glances around then back at me, brimming with amusement. My mouth is dry and the ringing in my ears blurs coherent thinking, then I stop breathing altogether because he puts his hand on the door and dips to my eye level.

"Did you pull me in here to kiss me?"

Anger boils over the nerves. "Excuse me, but some of us haven't done this in years. So stop taunting me, you jerk."

His smile widens. "I think I'm starting to really like taunting you, kitten."

"Kitten?"

"I meant chicken."

I chuckle, letting go of the anxious breath I've been holding. It only lasts a second, because there's a loud knock right behind me and I'm flinching again.

"How about we go somewhere nicer?" He murmurs. "Before we get kicked out by security."

"As if I care. This club's shit anyway." I mutter. As if charged by fight or flight mode, I seize the collar of his shirt and kiss him.

He sucks in a sharp breath. Panic rolls through me. I've made a complete fool of myself, I just know it.

But when his arms wrap around my waist and pull me closer, all that dissipates in a flash.

I can feel the rigid muscles beneath the smooth fabric of his shirt. The thought of touching them makes my skin tingle and a small moan ripples out of me.

Dominant, soft lips take over mine and the stubble scrapes my skin. I brush my fingers down his jaw line, mesmerized by the virility of his rugged form. I push forward to kiss him harder, threading my fingers through the silky, short hair and standing on my tip-toes with an impatient appetite.

A groan reverberates deep from his throat before his large palms are on my hips, gripping to lift me up and wrap me around his waist before he pushes me against the door. My mouth parts with a gasp. Another gasp as his tongue strokes my lower lip and caresses mine to oblivion.

"Y-you're...unexpectedly...good at this." I pant when he moves to my neck.

A taunting smile curves against my skin before his teeth grazes my flesh. Goosebumps spiral all over my body.

"Are you done in there?" An annoyed female voice interrupts from the other side of the door.

"No!" I yell.

Jake's eyebrows shoot up with a disbelieving chuckle. I smile innocently and kiss him again, this time pulling his lower lip into my mouth and giving it a nice, bratty bite.

Another knock, this time louder. These people have no manners.

"Don't stop." I murmur with need against his lips.

"Fuck..."

To my disappointment, he does stop and lowers my feet back on the ground.  I guess I can't complain, considering this was the best kiss of my life.

He tears a hand through his hair. "I'll do anything you want, but let's get out of here first."

Hm, no. Not part of the plan. "Fine...but I'll bolt outside first, you come out later."

I step out and slam the door in his face before he can reply. I lean on the door for a second and close my eyes to gather myself.

"Were you in there with a man?" A cold voice cuts through my reeling thoughts and my eyes jolt open. A security guard with a line of women glare like I've stolen all their tampons.

"Yes."

She tilts her head with protruding eyes. "You think you can do that?"

I smile. "I did already, didn't I?"

Her mouth goes ajar. "Girl, you better--"

"Bye, this club's shit anyway."

~~~

"Do it!" I moan.

It's Sunday morning, and I'm at the gym, pushing a 150 pound barbell into a hip thrust with a face that'd disturb a gym rat. No pain, no booty.

I cut my gym session short to go to the office for some cleaning, yelling on my way there how I should've just gone out with him.

I grab the hundred bags of cleaning supplies from the trunk and walk to the Psychology building, ignoring the screaming of my arms. Two trips are for the weak.

"So what if he was hot?" I ask no one in particular as I drop the bags to the floor and feth the office keys from my purse. "I wasn't going to be one of those women that throw themselves at him. Alright I did, but that's because I was going to ditch him!"

After scrubbing the windows and inhaling enough chemicals to cause permanent organ damage, I toss the nasty blinds away and put soft, ivory curtains in their place.

"I'm just saying... those biceps!"

I vacuum and mop the floors, then try to get rid of the questionable stains with even more questionable hacks from online: shaving cream, white wine, beer, etc.

"We...don't...give...up!" I yell at the carpet with vigor that suits a battlefield more than cleaning. If this thing had a lawyer, it'd sue for assault.

The only thing left is the piece of shit rosewood desk. I spend more time polishing it until it looks decent to photograph, post it online, and sell it to a lawyer named Mark who tells me he'll pick it up in two weeks.

Later at home, I pick the outfits of the week, rehearse tomorrow's lecture, chant confidence boosting affirmations in the mirror, then get high to sleep.

Thankfully, class doesn't start until 4pm, so I have the entire morning and afternoon to prepare and make sure everything is ready. I even go to class an hour early to practice walking up to the podium, so I don't accidentally face-plant onto the ground.

Portraying the perfect balance of authority and down-to-earth ease, I'm wearing a pastel pink button down tucked into black, high waisted jeans, booties and dainty, gold jewelry.

Students walk in around 3:45pm and my armpits would be sweating pools if I didn't already have a prescription for it. At 3:59pm, I pick up the microphone headset and turn it on.

Here we go.

I'm about to look away from the door, but something from a horror movie catches my attention.

Something terrifyingly wrong.

I blink rapidly and look again.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, perfect stubble. No, it can't be him.

But it is. It's him.

Jake.

In my class.

Author's Note

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