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The bastard just winked at me!
“If you’ve got a pair, I’d be delighted to lock you up,” I say, my voice catching as I swallow hard. “I bet they’d suit you perfectly.”
“You’re sharper than I expected.” His mask shifts, revealing a sly new smirk under the thick knit.
“Even a dull knife can be sharp when forced.” The words snap out, blunt as broken glass. My lips curl into a grin that tastes of defiance and old wounds.
“Yet you’re the one on the floor, practically crawling toward me—who’s forcing who?”
His laugh drags out into a low, gravelly growl, echoing in the hollow space between us, filling the cracks in my armor with something cold and unwelcome. He leans forward, relishing in his shadows swallowing mine.
Crawling! “You would love that, wouldn’t you?” My cheeks burn, shame and fury warring beneath my skin. I hate how easily he can see it.
“It would be my dream come true.”
“Dreamers don’t survive this world; welcome to reality,” I mutter under my breath.
“Then perhaps it is time to master survival in a nightmare.” His voice is crisp, almost soothing, yet edged with danger.
“Survival 101: Make friends, not enemies,” I scold him. My eyes dart to my laptop. “Give it back,” I hiss, heels gouging the carpet, desperate to anchor myself to something real, anything but him. “Maybe then I’ll consider us even.”
In my defense, I have nothing better to say.
Can a snail outrun a hawk? Maybe it doesn’t have to. I just need to trick him. Animals do that all the time; they have flamboyant colors that make others think they’re poisonous. My eyes glance down at my all-black attire. Why didn’t I embrace the rainbow and dress like one?
“Even?” His voice slices the air, a blade pressed to my throat. “We haven’t even begun.”
“I’m all booked up for the night. Maybe I can pencil you in. Oops, I must’ve burned the notepad while trying to survive the nightmare. Got any other helpful tips?” I snap, bitterness grinding in me like salt scouring a raw wound.
“How typical,” he mutters, his gaze tracking the frantic pulse in my throat. “A hacker that doesn’t like rules.”
“We don’t dislike rules,” I whisper, tilting my head back so I can stare him directly in the eyes. “We just don’t submit to unjust ones.”
“And what is unjust about me offering you help and advice?”
“It’s unsolicited.”
“Consider it a gift you don’t have the luxury of refusing if you wanna survive this night.”
“I’m not in the mood to open any gifts.”
“Then consider it a debt.” His voice drops to a low, lethal level—a hunter lurking in the deep. “And that’s my final offer.”
He holds out my laptop, flipping it over like it’s paper-thin. That baby is stuffed to the brim with a hard drive so seductive even a grandma would be turned on. “I like having something you want.” He tosses the words out with smug ease, swaggering like the university is his personal kingdom.
“I bet you were the king of the sandbox.” I mockingly begin to clap.
And the only reason I want that laptop is to destroy it!
Bending my legs, I spring forward, attempting to grab it. In my mind, I resemble a graceful acrobat. In reality, I stumble over the books and smack directly into his chest. Consider me a bug on a windshield. He’s fast, raising my laptop above his head and swinging his other arm around my lower back, clutching me tight. He holds me firmly, but not painfully. More like a kid who got a breakable gift for Christmas and refuses to let it go in case it smashes to the ground.
His heartbeat, which is too calm, presses into my frantic chest. It’s like hugging the pavement, but there is something oddly comforting about it, too. Like when you’re a kid, and you fall off a bike. The fall is the scariest part, not the scar; hitting the ground gives you a painful sense of relief. You’re hurt, but still alive.
“If you want to hug me, you just have to ask. No need to leap over God’s word to touch me.” He beams as he looks at all the bibles.
Heat floods my body as he presses his fingertips deeper into my spine. His scent invades me. Pure male, clean and soapy; strong. Like a damn magazine ad for Armani or something equally delicious.
“I like to cuddle,” he gloats. He edges his right thigh closer to mine.
