Page 14 of Lessons in Cruelty

“What’s the notebook for?” Haven asks.

“Only about half your grade,” he says dryly.

Her blue eyes widen in panic. “What?”

“Shows up late and doesn’t pay attention. She’s off to a good start, isn’t she, Mr. Jordan?”

Rooke doesn’t even look at me. I’m just a fucking prop. He narrows his eyes at her, reaching across and tapping the cover. “It’s your Activity Log. Says so right here.”

“I, uh…I think I might have missed⁠—”

“I have a meeting,” Professor Rooke says, glancing at his watch. “If you deign to arrive on time for my next class, I’ll consider filling you in.”

“Thank you.” Haven tugs her cardigan tighter around her, juggling her notepad and the new notebook.

If she’s trying to blend in, she’s failing miserably. Around here, students wear designer threads like armor. Even the Steve Jobs types with their discreet, monotonous outfits are kitted out in Burberry or Gucci.

Haven’s an eyesore in her cheap, stained⁠—

Jesus Christ…she’s not even wearing a bra.

My cock twitches like the traitor it is. Even disheveled and pathetic, she still makes me hard. Makes me want to pin her against Rooke’s desk and show her exactly what she threw away.

She glances nervously at me when I let out a bemused chuckle, her blue eyes widening until I can see the dark rings around her irises. Seems to be the only thing about her that hasn’t changed, those haunted blue eyes.

I used to love making them sparkle.

Now they’re underlined with dark smudges.

I clear my throat. “Professor?” I stab my thumb toward the door when his brown eyes lock onto me. I don’t want to risk hanging around for a lecture about my duties as a T.A.

“Yes, you may leave, Mr. Jordan.” He glances at me, then Haven, and for just a split second, something smug flashes over his face, like he won a bet with himself and gets to buy himself a drink to celebrate.

“Both of you.”

I throw Rooke a two-fingered salute and get the fuck out of his classroom, turning at the last minute so I can slam the door open with my back. Rooke is busy putting his laptop into his satchel, eyes on his task, but Haven’s staring after me with dread etched deep on her face.

I blow a big fucking kiss her way, grinning at the shiver that ripples through her.

I’ve spent ages imagining what I’d do when I saw her again.

It all went flying out the window when we met outside in the hallway, of course. Never meant to choke her out in the open where anyone could see. Didn’t plan on getting hard when that fear—then that dark delight—flooded her eyes.

Seeing her standing there, already looking so fucking lost and broken, it’s not enough.

Nothing will ever be enough.

I don’t just want to hurt her. I want to crawl inside her head and rearrange all the shit inside so she can’t tell the difference between love and hate, pleasure and pain.

I need to break her.

To own her. Completely.

To have her want me so desperately, that she’ll gladly accept whatever scraps of attention I send her way.

And then thank me on her fucking knees for the privilege of breathing the same air as me.

Haven Lee destroyed me when she left.