Tome.
“Get your hands off her,” I growl, but the words come out weaker than I want them to.
Rooke doesn’t even look at me. “I don’t think so.”
This close, his cologne mingles with the smell of Haven’s shampoo and the vanilla-scented body mist stuff she sprayed on herself before we left the Airbnb. Maybe that’s what triggers me. Or maybe it’s the way our professor dips down like he’s going to claim her mouth right in front of me.
I lunge.
Or try to.
His free hand shoots out, catching my throat and slamming me back against the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth. Now he’s got us both pinned, a large, veiny hand on our throats.
And he’s not even breaking a sweat.
“That’s more like it.” His thumbs press into our pulses, feeling…what? Our heartbeats, our fear, or our fucked-up arousal?
“Let go,” Haven gasps digging into his wrist.
He squeezes both our necks. As if we need a reminder of who’s in charge right now. “You came here because you wanted this.”
“We’re here because you fuckingblackmailedus,” I spit.
“Semantics.” His grip loosens slightly, turning from restraint to caress. “The end result is the same. You’re here. I’m here.”
His hand slides from Haven’s throat to her jaw, tilting her face toward his.
“And you owe me an apology.”
“For what?” she breathes, sounding incredulous despite the hand on her throat.
“For not answering my call. For making me wait tonight.” He brushes his lips against hers, and a pump of blood makes my cock swell inside my pants. “For pretending you belonged to anyone but me.”
Then he’s kissing her.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It isn’t sweet.
Rooke devours her like Haven’s the only thing keeping him alive. His hand fists in her hair, yanking her head back to deepen the angle, and she fucking moans into him.
I can’t look away. With his hand still on my neck, I can’t move away either. Even distracted as he is, I know the consequences won’t be worth the brief freedom. Or maybe I just like the way his palm feels against my Adam’s apple. How his fingers twitch against the column of my throat.
My cock throbs against my zipper and I tell myself it’s because of the sounds Haven makes as Rooke’s mouth grinds against hers.
I should be angry. I should be ripping him off her, beating his face in, protecting what’s mine.
But when I grab his wrist, Rooke’s only response is a brief growl and a tightening of his fingers.
So I stay frozen, my cock leaking precum, my own lips tingling as I watch.
As Iwant.
When he finally pulls back, Haven’s lips are swollen and her eyes are glazed.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. Then his dark, ravenous gaze cuts to me. “Your turn, boy.”
I try to pull his hand off my throat, but my muscles have gone weak—those dark eyes pinning me in place as much as his strong fingers.
I huff out an incredulous, “I’m not?—“
