Page 22 of The Biker and the Professor
“Shut up,” Nero growls. “Both of you.”
With that, he shifts from my path. But before I can make a run for it, he’s got me off the ground and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“What in the world…” I gasp out. Then louder, “Nero, put me down right now!”
He doesn’t.
He stomps off with me thrown over him while I beat my fists on his back. What a primitive asshole!
The music fades the farther away he gets. Soon, he’s climbing stairs, one flight, two flights.
“Nero!” I rail.
Then he’s marching down a long, iron-railed balcony.
“NERO! Put me down!”
He stops. Keys jingle. A door creaks open, and then I’m facing the door as he kicks it shut.
Only then does he heed my request and sets me down. Once I’m steady on my feet and the blood has drained from my head, I rail at him, beating my fists on his hard chest.
“I. Have. Never. Been. Treated. So. Dis.Res.Pect.Fully. In. My. Life!”
He grabs my wrists and drives me back against the wall. “Why did you come here?”
Curling my lips in a sneer, I glare up at him, “Cookie wanted me to see your lifestyle. And now that I’ve seen it, I’m ready to leave.”
He hisses an epithet under his breath. “Swear to God, if she wasn’t Judge’s sister…”
“What? You’re mad because you didn’t want me to see your little girlfriend?” I spit. “Why do you even chase me so hard when you have someone like her? Let me go. I don’t belong here.”
“Damn straight you don’t belong here,” he snarls, his eyes like fire.
“Great. Well, let me go then, yes?”
Letting go of me, he backs up. His fury is what hurts me the most. Is it really such a horrible thing that I dared to show up on his turf? Was it truly so terrible of me to want tosee him? I get that my unexpected presence here might cause friction in his relationship, but to treat me like this when I’ve done nothing to him…
Back against the wall, chest heaving up and down, I make a brief scan of my environment. We’re in a studio apartment.Hisstudio apartment, if the calculus textbook on the two-seater table is any indication.
As I turn and move to the door, his voice stops me, “Don’t you dare.”
Hands balled into fists, I spin back around and say through gritted teeth, “Do nottalk to me like I’m one of your little fucking girlfriends. Know your place,Nero Gunnar.”
His head cants to the side and his lips pull into a tiny, lopsided grin. “Language, Professor Blume.”
Is he serious? Who curses more than him? He’s one to ta—
My angry thoughts are interrupted when he moves and scoops me off my feet again, crosses the room in three long strides, and throws me onto the bed as if I weigh as much as a pillow.
Wind knocks out of me as my body bounces on the mattress. “What are you—”
He’s on me. His large, masculine frame over mine, his face buried in my neck as he audibly inhales. The scent of beer, cigarette, and leather fills my nostrils. And Ihatehow my traitorous body reacts to him, submitting through arousal and surrendering through desire.
I shouldn’t be feeling like this. He has a whole girlfriend downstairs!
Lifting his head from my neck, he painlessly bites my jaw and whispers, “You’re right. You’re not one of my ‘little girlfriends.’ You’re mywoman.” He bites my bottom lip. “And Idoknow my place…” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “It’s with you.”
“No,” I deny him.
