Page 49 of Twisted Ties
“No, you didn’t, Miss Blackwaters, so I advise you to sit back down and start writing.”
I rest my palms on his desk and lean towards him. “Or what?”
“Don’t test me,” he growls.
“Why? What exactly are you going to do, Professor? You keep threatening me but you never actually deliver.”
“What are you hoping for, Miss Blackwaters? That I’ll bend you over my lap and spank your backside?”
He glares at me, his eyes darkening.
“Wh-wh-what?” I mutter. That’s completely twisted, archaic, and sexist. And yet, I’m rubbing my thighs together despite myself.
“Don’t play with fire,” he says, “you’ll only end up burned.”
“I told you, I’m not afraid of you,” I say, regaining my composure.
He pushes backwards on his chair, the legs scraping along the floor. Then he stands, walking around his desk and stopping right in front of me. He’s bigger and broader than me but I hold my ground, tipping my head back to look up into his face.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
That sensation in my stomach hums at his closeness, and I can’t help but let my gaze flit downwards. Down to where his shirt stretches across his muscular frame and the black lines of his tattoos protrude from the neckline of his shirt.
He feels impossibly close. The hook strains towards him.
I want to ask him. I want to know. But I’m too afraid.
What if I’m wrong? What if I’m just a confused girl who doesn’t know a thing about men and sex and love? What if I’m just a horny mess for a man who should be out of bounds for more than one reason?
And what if he told Azlan? How would my mate feel if he knew his best friend stirred feelings inside me that he shouldn’t?
The idea makes me sick.
“I’m not writing any more lines,” I say, walking straight out of his classroom.
The last thing I want is for him to read all the messed-up thoughts swirling around in my mind.
16
Stone
I pleadsickness and convince Jones to cover the rest of my afternoon lessons. It’s not exactly a lie. I feel awful. My head dull, my bones aching, my muscles sore.
It was only a matter of time. Fate isn’t a power to be messed with and, as my research is proving, a power you can damn well alter either.
I stomp back to my cabin and lie out on the bed, trying not to think about my run in with Rhianna. Trying not to think about the thoughts in her head. She feels it. Of course she does. And now she knows what it is. Has a name for it. But she hasn’t asked me about it. She’s too ashamed, too confused. I could change all that.
But then what …
This won’t end well. I’ve seen it in front of my own eyes. It will destroy me. It will destroy Azlan. It will destroy her.
Suddenly, I’m so damn angry. Fate is a fucker. A cruel and twisted fucker, hellbent on torturing us all.
Fuck, it’s not like I even give a shit about myself. My life has never been sunshine and rainbows. It’s been gutters and grime, sewers and scum.
But I don’t want this forher. I don’t want it forhim.
