What am I thinking? I met him ten minutes ago when he almost ran me over. But the semester starts in a couple of weeks. This is my last chance at freedomandbad decisions before I submit to the strict structure of medical school.
Once I step foot back on the Hamilton campus, I might as well have a bag on my head. No man will go near the dean’s daughter.
I take a sip and immediately feel energized by the coolwater. But it does little to snuff out the fire raging low in my belly.
“More?” He holds out the bottle.
“I’m good,” I say, steadying my voice so he doesn’t see me so wounded anymore.
What is it about this stranger that I’m so drawn to? Like I’m the moon, and he’s the earth, gravity is pulling me towards him.
Cormac crouches down in front of me. Assessing me. And not looking like he’s ready to leave just yet. Does he feel this tension between us, too?
“What happened with your boyfriend that he hit you and then put you out on the street?” he asks with a low rasp.
“Oh, uh, he asked me to marry him, but I said no,” I make sure that’s clear. “That was yesterday. Tonight, I came home and found him banging his sister-in-law in our bed.”
“Jesus, what an asshole.”
“I agree.” I exhale. “He was wearing a condom. So, I guess at least he’s not astupidasshole.”
“I’d like to find him and cut off his dick,” Cormac grouses, showing a slight wearing away of the wall he put up once he set foot in this hotel room with me.
“I wouldn’t ask you to dothatfor me,” I say.
He reaches for my hand and brings the water back up to my lips. “Drink.”
Feeling bold, I touch his inked fingers around the cup. His bulging veins everywhere suggest he could break bones with a bare fist.
Cormac is the opposite of Pierce. He looks rugged, like a working man. And he’s so goddamn handsome. It’s not even a matter of opinion. He looks dangerous, and I don’t care.
With my fingers still pressed against his, they slidefrom the cup to the ink on his hand, tracing one bold line of black. His breath changes. Barely. But I hear it.
Cormac straightens slightly, awareness humming from him. “What do you want, Scarlett?”
I stare into his eyes. And I say the only truth in my heart right now. “I want the pain to go away.”
The air changes density as I brace for him to leave me here alone.
“How?” His voice gets low. “Be specific.”
“Stay,” I whisper. “For a little while. Make me feel… Something else. Not whatever this darkness is. Something…better.” Heat blooms in my chest where I bury fear and doubt.
Something dark crosses over his face. He takes a step back and asks, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” I laugh. “And I’m not a virgin if that was your next question.”
He stares at me like he’s calculating the consequences. Like he’s assessing the sensitivity of the bruise on my cheek and if the tremor in my hands is a sign that I can’t consent. Most of all, I sense he’s deciding whether touching me would makehimfeel better or worse.
He lifts a hand to my bruised cheek. “If I saw this happen, your jerk ex would already be dead. Turning cold. I’d very much like to fuck what used to belong to him.”
Despite the violence in his tone, his touch is smooth and warm.
“Kiss me, please,” I say, my breath shaking.
“Come here,” he murmurs, rising just enough as he draws me toward him.
His mouth meets mine, and the kiss is slow at first. A sigh escapes him that lets me breathe, too. He deepens the kiss and runs his hands through my wet hair.
