Page 11 of Corrupt Me

Knowing my friends, they will be all around the campus diner where I’m meeting Eric. Nothing will happen to me, and that thought eases my mind. Worry is part of our friendship, but I am done being on the defense.

The door bursts open, making me jump when it hits the wall. Hunter stalks inside, radiating a dangerous vibe. He’s like rainy nights and candles flickering—all dark, wrapped in sinful promises.

I ignore him, scrolling through the new phone and rechecking the program. Cutting the distance between us, he cages me between his chest and the wall. Bye, frail attempt at keeping him away.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice, edging on rough, has my thighs clenching on instinct. I’ve never seen him lose it like now.

“Going on a date,” I stammer, my heart racing so fast a bout of dizziness rolls over me.

“On a date.”

“That’s what I said. Are you deaf?”

“Deaf, huh?”

“Hunter, get off of me.”

He lowers his head to my eye level, his breath brushing my lips, making them tingle. His features are pulled so taut his jaw might snap. “Since when have you been interested in someone?”

“It’s a mission.”

“A mission that includes a fucking date.”

Having enough of this back-and-forth that will lead nowhere, I snap. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is you. Always bloody you.” He says “bloody” when he’s truly mad.

He pushes himself off me, dragging a palm down his face. His chest heaves, and mine does too, mirroring his state. Every muscle in his body ripples with tension, making me want to caress that stiffness away. My spine goes ramrod straight. Why are my thoughts always running in circles? It’s debilitating.

“I know you worry, but it’s going to be all right,” I try to placate him. He needs to leave so I can get a grip on myself.

“You deserve more than this…” His tone is uncharacteristically soft.

Where did that come from?

I blurt out to hide my surprise. “It’s a fake date. It’s not as if I am going to fuck him.”

His hand shoots to my throat and his fingers curl around my nape, not hard enough to cut my air supply but firm enough to keep me in place. A whoosh of air escapes my lips. His presence alone makes me lightheaded—it has nothing to do with the position he’s put me in. When he wrenches his hand away, I can still feel the heat of his palm lingering.

“You would if you were in my place, but rest assured, I won’t let it go that far.”

“I would, huh? You know me so well, Bailey…” he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I hug myself, uneasy. “Just stay out of my way.”

Taking my small purse, I head downstairs. My friends are scattered around the living room, looking tight-lipped. I give them a nod of assurance and make my way to the front door.

My phone pings with a notification. Eric is here. As I’m about to close the door behind me, my head whips back of its own accord. Hunter stands at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, his intense gaze making my knees weak.

I stumble out and crash into Eric, who catches me. Everything feels wrong—his heavy cologne, his unwelcome touch, and his overly put together demeanor. I free myself, stepping back.

“Sorry.”

“No problem.” He smiles, gesturing to his shiny dark blue convertible. But my belly knots, rooting me in place.

“Could we walk to the diner?”

“Yeah, sure.”

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