“Second,” I say, stepping in closer.“I’m not forgetting a fucking thing about what just happened.And you’re not either.You can play the professional card all you want.Hell, I admire it.But don’t lie to me, Angel.”
She tries to twist away.
I tighten my grip just enough to make her stop—but never to hurt her.
Never that.
“You think I haven’t seen this before?That look in your eyes?The tremor I felt move through your whole body?”
I glance down at the slight tremble she’s trying to hide in her fingers.
“Angel, that wasn’t some random slip-up.That was chemistry.That was real.And you can pretend it doesn’t matter, but I was there.I felt you fall into me.”
Her jaw clenches.Her eyes flash.
Good.
Let her get mad.
Let her show me something besides that cool facade.
“Now,” I murmur, dropping my voice to something rough and low, “if you want to call it a mistake to save face, fine.But don’t stand there and pretend it meant nothing.Don’t insult both of us like that.”
Her breath hitches.
I lean down, just enough so she hears me perfectly.
“And just for the record,” I say with a wicked smirk curling at my mouth, “I’ll call you anything you want,Miss Rosetto.Long as you promise to make me stay after class and go over everything I didn’t do right until I get it.You feel me?”
She blinks.
And blushes.
Bright.Angry.Maybe curious.Always beautiful.
I step back, letting her go because I need to.
Because if I don’t, I’ll drag her back to that couch and make her admit exactly how not-sorry she is.
She clears her throat, lifts her chin, and smooths down her cardigan like she’s trying to reassemble her dignity.
It’s adorable.
And it’s mine.
I hold her coat and she lets me, turning around and sliding her arms through the sleeves.
Then, I open the door and step through, waving her ahead once I assess it’s safe.
“Let’s just get through the field trip,” she says coolly.
Yeah, there’s a grin still tugging at my lips.
“Oh, we will,” I promise.“But get ready, Angel.Because when it’s over?We’re going to talk about everything you won’t ever want to forget.”
Because I plan to remind her of every single second—with my mouth, my hands, and every slow, delicious stroke until she’s not just moaning my name—she’ll be screaming it.
Chapter9
