I bite him.
Hard.
His hiss lights me up as I sink my teeth into his bottom lip and don’t let up until I feel his hands clamp down on my hips, dragging me closer with a need that borders on desperation. My fingers tighten in his hair until he groans against my mouth, and the sound and feel of it shoot straight through me like a jolt of raw electricity. Dr. Cade Cormier may seem like an enigma—aloof and unreadable with a carefully constructed composure that never slips… but it’s one I know I can crack. And right now, I can feel it all coming apart. He’s seeking more than just pleasure. He needs the sting too. He needs the ache, the bite, the reckless collision of pain and desire…
And I’m going to be the one to give it to him.
Footsteps and murmuring voices echo down the hallway outside, but instead of pausing, it seems to urge him on. He surges forward, kissing me harder and grinding against me like he’s daring someone to throw the door open and catch him in the act.
Game fuckingon, baby.
I shove him back farther onto the desk as papers, binders, and pens fall to the floor, and his hands slip under my cut, gliding up my sides with purpose. Until they brush against leather and steel when they graze the gun holstered against my ribs. He stills… but only for a moment.
His hands continue to move, sliding over the gun like it belongs there, and is just a part of me. Then his fingers hook around the back of my neck as he pulls me closer, and he takes what he wants. Like he’s fuckinghungryand can’t get enough.
So let’s fucking eat.
I pull back to break our kiss, and those deep blue eyes immediately meet mine as I smirk down at him and nod towards his shirt.
His hands immediately lift to unbutton it, and I watch as he removes his shirt slowly, and my cock is already twitching in anticipation.
And as the boring plaid button-down slips over his shoulders, I immediately forgive him for not wearing a cable-knit sweater today. Because, holy fuck, it doesn’t even matter… Professor has been keeping secrets that shouldnotbe kept.
I bite my lower lip as I let my gaze slowly travel over his bare torso, taking in his tight abs and broad chest as he casually leans back on his elbows like he’s offering it all up. When I reach his eyes, they’re locked on mine as he tilts his head slightly… daring me to bring it.
“You never asked my name,” I say, arching a brow at him.
He flicks his eyes to the name badge stitched into my cut, then back to me. “Do I need to know it?”
Blood rushes straight to my cock, and I resist the urge to palm it. I smirk, shrugging one shoulder. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Might be useful.”
He arches a brow right back at me. “Are we…”
I lean over him, placing one hand on the desk beside his hip as I bring my face close to his. He doesn’t flinch or even blink.
“I told you I take what I want,” I say, and with my free hand, I grab his hard cock through his jeans. “And it looks like you want this too.”
His chest rises and falls with a steady breath, and still, he doesn’t falter.
Christ… I’m fucked.
I hold his stare as I squeeze him again, looking deep into his eyes for the cracks I know are in there. “Now tell me your favourite tree.”
His forehead creases slightly, and I huff out a breath of laughter as I tilt my head and run my gaze down his body to where I’m gripping him. “Maybe it’s me.”
I rub my hand firmly over his cock, and the groan that rumbles from his chest is low and rough, like pure fucking fuel to the fire brewing inside me. I lean in and drag my tongue across the skin of his chest before catching his nipple between my teeth, then bite down, just hard enough to make his breath hitch and to pull another moan from him. When I lift my head and bring my lips to his, he immediately pushes himself up to stand with me. His lips are still moving against mine as he grabs my cut, pushing it off my shoulders with a kind of urgency that sends heat rushing through me. I let it drop to the floor before moving my hands to my belt buckle while he works his, the two of us locked in this rough, hungry rhythm that neither of us seems willing to break.
But eventually, he does.
He takes a step back as his eyes drag down the length of me… then pause where the leather shoulder holster cuts across my T-shirt, keeping my gun snug at my side.
I stay still and watch him while something shifts behind his gaze. It’s just a small flicker of something, but it’s there. It’s a glint of interest, a spark of curiosity… a crack in the barrier.
He steps in closer, lifting his hands to curl his fingers around the straps, taking his time as if he’s savouring the moment. Then he slips the holster off my shoulders and sets the gun on the desk… aimed straight at the door.
A fuck you in steel and intent.
And somehow, that quiet, calculated move hits me harder than anything he’s ever said or done.
