He steps back, laughing softly, with that knowing smirk like he can sense exactly what my body’s doing. Like he can smell it.
“Never,” I growl. I’m angry at him, but mostly at myself. At the way my body betrayed me so easily.
He leans in again, slow and seductive, trailing the back of his finger along my jaw.
“We’ll see,” he murmurs. “I bet someday you’ll beg for me.”
The stroke of his skin against mine is maddening. I swat his hand away, but he catches my wrist mid-motion and holds it, so firm it borders on painful.
“Let go,” I say, but my voice isn’t nearly as sharp as I want it to be. It’s too breathy. Weak.
His gaze flicks to my mouth.
“Say it like you mean it.”
I jerk my arm, but he doesn’t release me, not yet. He steps closer until our chests touch, until I can feel the heat radiating off him like an open flame. That laughter, that smirk is gone now. Maybe it was all pretend. Just an act, a mask, because the man before me is serious as a grave. His expression shifts, sharpens, turns cold.
“You can hate me. Want me dead,” he says, his voice low and quiet, as if we’re in on a dangerous secret together. “But you need to rememberI’mthe only thing standing between you and your father’s destruction. If I die, the most likely person to take over after me is Jackson. I’m guessing there’s a reasonyou don’t want him as a guard. If I’m dead he could bond you, make you his slave forever. I doubt that’s the future you envision for yourself,Dr. Turner.”
This time, I don’t pull away. I lean in, so close I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the flicker of surprise in his dark eyes. He wasn’t expecting that.
I hiss, “Everything you just said only proves you know exactly who Jackson is, and yet you still protect him. You let him roam free, let him do whatever the hell he wants. That makes you just as reprehensible.”
His eyes narrow, but I don’t stop.
“Don’t think you’re special, Carrson. I don’t just wantyoudead. I want your entire House wiped off the earth. The things you’re doing to this town, the drugs, the guns, it’s a fucking travesty. The world would be better off withallof you gone.”
His mouth curls, not in anger, but in admiration. “There’s my Tiger.”
I rip away from him and storm off. Rage pulses through me, hot and full, as I stomp the rest of the way to Ashford House, ignoring how he easily strolls beside me, hands in his pockets, his body relaxed like he doesn’t have a care in the goddamn world.
I don’t know which scares me more, how much I hate him or how much he seems to like it.
Chapter ten
Laurel
The next morning, I wake to my least favorite alarm clock. Carrson’s foot, shoving me out of bed. I hit the floor with a loud thud, arms flailing to protect my head.
“What the hell!” I scramble to my feet, yanking the blanket off the bed to wrap around myself. He’s already sitting on the edge, shirtless, completely unbothered, his long legs spread, elbows on his knees like this is his throne.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he drawls, eyes flicking over my blanket-toga with amusement. “Time to go backto school.”
“Excuse you,” I snap. “Most people say hello before body slamming someone out of bed.”
He smirks, his eyes lingering a second too long on my bare shoulder where the blanket’s slipped. “Consider it a wake-up call. You should thank me.”
“I should poison your coffee,” I mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
“So violent,” he says, like it’s a compliment. A dark chuckle, followed by, “Careful, Laurel. Someone might think you’re flirting.”
I stalk into the bathroom, muttering curses under my breath. My blanket trails behind me and so does Carrson, because personal space is apparently not a thing he believes in. He leans his hip against the counter, watching as I squeeze out a thin strip of blue-green toothpaste.
“Why do you even like school?” he asks, his voice lazy but curious. “No one likes school.”
“I do,” I say through foam, brushing with more aggression than necessary. “There’s so much to learn. How the body works. Why wars start. What people used to believe, what they painted, how they…” I stop, flushing. “Loved.”
I spit and rinse, trying to pretend I didn’t just get weirdly emotional about education. What can I say? I was raised with a love of learning. It was like a religion in my house. We all prayed to the power of knowledge.
