Page 30 of Speak

There’s a tension there, a tension that wasn’t there before other than when he humiliated her in front of the entire class and I can’t help but question it.

He dismisses us twenty minutes early and when I grab her backpack, the fuck says, “Miss Monroe, a word please?” His eyes dart back to me and he adds a quick “Alone.”

I swallow the rage bubbling in my throat and kiss her temple. “I’ll meet you in the dining hall for lunch. Right,baby?” I keep my eyes on Harrington making sure he heard that. He barely lifts a brow, but something in his green eyes flash that tells me it irks him and I let my lips tilt up in a smirk then settle my gaze back down to hers.

She blinks at me coolly and takes her backpack from my hand.

I walk out, and when the door closes behind me, I watch as he takes a few steps back and opens the door to his office. She walks in with her shoulders slumped.

Chapter Eight

Maverick.

She won’t look at me. She does everythingbutlook at me. Not even a glance. The way she flushed pink when I interrupted her almost kiss with Jonas, she still didn’t look at me. Like I didn’t fucking exist and everything she did during my lecture on Ed Kemper was all too distracting. Every lip bite while taking notes, on paper, not her laptop, which was annoyingly endearing. And fuck me, when she crossed and then uncrossed her legs flashing her pale blue panties, I had to hide behind my podium, which I never do, to hide my thickening erection.

Yet she continued defying my presence like what happened between us was just a figment of my imagination.

That’s fine. I’llmake herlook at me.

“Miss Monroe, a word please?” I narrowed my eyes on Jonas when he took her backpack. “Alone.”

He kisses her temple and I watch him watch us through the peep-window of the door so I decide to make this private conversation even more private by taking it into my office. When she rushes past me, I get a faint whiff of jasmine and berries from her perfume and the pomegranate of her shampoo. I close the solid door behind me and lock it.

My office is partially designed like Whitmore’s. A large antique mahogany desk, a large overly cushioned swivel chairbehind it, and for those that are brave enough to sit in here, two very uncomfortable wooden chairs not meant to keep someone here for long, which she’s sitting in one. Legs crossed, arms folded over her chest as though she’s hiding them from me like I didn’t taste her succulent flesh against my tongue and sucked her hardened nipples into my mouth while she rode me only a mere twenty-seven hours ago.

Not that I’m counting.

No, she looks as though she’s embarrassed about it all. Like sheregretsme.

“That’s the Harrington Curse, Mav. We’ll love a woman with our entire soul, give it to her and she’ll take it with her when she finally leaves because they know we just ain’t good enough for them to love back.”

I shake my father’s voice out of my head. I could never love a woman like Raven Monroe. Besides, a woman of her pedigree would never fall for a man without some absurd title like Duke or Prince. No, a woman like Raven Monroe absolutely belongs to a shit like Jonas Anderson.

While I round the desk then leaning against it before her, I decide to mirror her; ankles crossed, arms over my chest, scowl on my face. “This conversation will work a lot better if you look at me, Raven.”

She inhales quietly and then exhales in the same manner as if trying to take control of her emotions. I’m sure after what happened yesterday, she’s riddled with all kinds of them. They’re probably eating at her. Shame. The possible guilt of cheating on her…Jonas. I refuse to even think the word ‘boyfriend.’ The word itself feels cursed when it’s aimed at anyone else. Not that I should be her boyfriend. I’m more than an entire decade older than her.

Her eyes focus on me but she’s not giving me direct eye contact. She’s staring between my brows to give the illusion she’s giving me eye contact.

Smart girl. Most likely a tactic she learned at the asylum. I wonder what else she learned while being locked away and treated like a burden. I’m sure that’s how her family treats her.

“What happened yesterday morning can never happen again,” I begin and her eyes shift to the tip of my ear. “I spoke withDean Whitmore,” her eyes dart to mine.Ahh… so threats work on her.“And given that you refuse to speak and since you made it to class today, I’m assuming you won’t be dropping my class?”

A blink and then she uncrosses her creamy thighs and tilts her feet, her toes inward, she bounces a knee, the only thing that tells me her defiance is waning and her anxiety is up.

Does my presence make her nervous? Does it irk her? Make herwet? Is she thinking about how she rode me on the carpeted floor of the library until her knees were red and raw? The very scent of her arousal is still trapped in my nostrils since I used her ripped thong while I jerked off this morning.

“Very well, Raven. You’ll be turning in yourNurture versus Naturedebates on paper. Handwritten. On Thursdaysbeforethe debates on Fridays so you don’t have a chance to hear other arguments so I know you didn’t plagiarize your peers. When you hand them in, it will be tomeandonlyme by the end of day onThursdays. Seeing as you refuse to speak, your presence won’t be required on Fridays beginning next week. I’ll mark you down aspresent. If you do not hand in your assignments by the end of day, on time, Iwillfail you. Not mommy, not daddy, not even dear old grandpa can help you. You are not special just because you aredefective, Miss Monroe. Do you understand me?”

Her eyes narrow, pure anger and disgust centered on me at the mention of Eugene Monroe. Yeah, Siren I did my fucking research. She stands, grabbing her pale purple designer backpack that probably cost more than my first car. Granted, I had purchased the thing at a junkyard and fixed it up myself, working for months on it to bring it back to life, but still.

Before she can storm past me I yank her by the arm and tug her warm, lush body to mine. “Do you understand,tongueless?”

She flinches at the word or probably the way a growl escaped me or even at our close proximity.

God, she smells fucking fantastic.

I run my nose along hers, over her cheek and into her hair, keeping my lips by her ear. “Tell me, does Jonas know you creamed all over my slacks, riding me like a bitch in heat?”

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