“You too, Carter. And thanks for the offer.”
I give him a quick wave before stepping off the curb. I head toward the car, and can feel Tuck’s eyes on me the entire time. By the time I reach the passenger side and open the door, there’s already a charged kind of energy in the air. I slide into the seat, pulling the door shut behind me. The second I click my seatbelt, he speaks.
“Was that professor, Declan Hayes?”
I blink, turning toward him—and yep, there it is. The need, the possessiveness. It does crazy things to me. Things I like, too much. I lean back slightly, crossing my arms, unable to stop the smile that creeps onto my lips. “Wow. You sound jealous.”
“Maybe I am. What did he offer you?”
The way he says it—low, unapologetic—sends a little flicker of heat through me. I raise a brow. “Well, you have nothing to be jealous about. He just recognized me from The Nook. Loves my cinnamon rolls.”
“I bet he does.” Jealousy drips off every word, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch Carter getting in his own car. I turn back to Tuck, about to explain, about to tell him it was just a ride, just kindness, but I don’t get the chance.
His hand comes up, sliding around the back of my neck, pulling me toward him. And then his mouth is on mine. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s not tentative or questioning.
It’s claiming.
Warm and insistent and just this side of overwhelming—like he’s been holding something back all night and finally decided he’s done with that. When he finally pulls back, my lips feel a little swollen, my breath a little uneven. I blink at him, trying, and failing miserably, to look unaffected.
“What was that for?” I ask.
His thumb brushes just under my jaw, eyes dark, locked on mine.
“That,” he says quietly, “Was me not liking the way he was looking at you.”
My heart stutters.
I tilt my head, studying him. “And how was he looking at me?”
“Like he was going to start coming in for cinnamon rolls a lot more often.”
“That’s your concern?”
Instead of answering, he glances around the parking lot, but Carter is long gone.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t looking at him with my vagina.” He growls as I follow his gaze, amused. “Carter is in my class, and when Lucas didn’t show up, he offered me a ride home.” I pause, lips twitching. “Don’t worry, he assured me he’s not a kidnapper…or a murderer.”
Tuck snorts. “That’s exactly what a kidnapper or a murderer would say.”
I laugh. “You’ve been hanging around Stella too long.”
“Yeah,” he says, checking over his shoulder before pulling into traffic. “That does sound like something she’d say.”
As he drives, I settle against my seat and set my bag on the floor. A second later, his hand finds my thigh like it belongs there. Like it’s always belonged there. My breath hitches—just slightly—but I don’t move it away.
“How was class?” he asks.
I glance over at him, really look this time. At the way his attention flicks between the road and me, at the genuine curiosity in his expression. The quiet care. And something in my chest tightens. It’s been a long time since anyone’s looked at me like that. Like what I say matters. Like I matter.
I swallow. “It was good. A lot of reading before next class.”
“You’ll have time.”
I frown slightly. “Time?”
“I’m away tomorrow for a couple days,” he says. “The library is all yours.”
That’s when it clicks. I glance out the window, and yeah, we are definitely not heading toward my place.
