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“Nova!” I am interrupted by the voice of my professor, walking over toward me like he owns me.
“Professor Bartell.'' He stands beside me, almost as if he is trying to plaster himself to me, his eyes not leaving Loe. I glance at Loe and see he too has not broken eye contact with the professor. So this is what a pissing contest looks like. Clearing my throat, Loe turns to me and wraps his hand around the back of my neck.
“What time are you out?” I lick my lips, needing a moment to control my rapidly quickening breaths.
“When I dismiss class.” Professor Bartell answers. Loe’s grip gets tighter around my neck, and his jaw clenches. He looks at me, waiting for me to answer him, but I swear my brain has shut down to make room for my hormones.
“Answer me, beauty before I drop your teacher.” Professor gasps and sputters in disbelief, indignation showing.
“In an hour,” I whisper.
“Good. You wait for me. Understand?” we are nose to nose right now. My eyes drop to his mouth, praying he kisses me. I nod my head, scared if I speak, I am going to beg him to do just that. “Good girl. Now kiss me.” he doesn’t wait for me to comply. He pulls my neck into him and our mouths meet in an explosive first kiss. He bites my lip, eliciting a gasp which he takes advantage of, feeding me his tongue. My cheeks are on fire, the awkwardness of this being my first kiss and I don’t know how, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I copy his movements, moaning, when his other hand grips my ass and pulls me further into him. He pulls back right as I grip his shirt, whining into his mouth. “Yea. I like that bee stung look. Go learn something, baby. I will be back in an hour.” he pats my butt, turns me and walks away. I look over at my professor and see his face is the color of blood. Holy shit. That was hot.
Chapter Three
Loeb
Walking away is so fucking hard. Especially when all I want to do is rip his fucking hands off for touching my girl. Slimy bastard seems to think he has some sort of claim on my girl. It is obvious to anyone with eyes that she is uncomfortable in his presence. Seems the professor needs a bit more education, if you will, on cues.
I fucked myself kissing her. It wasn’t my plan. No. I was planning to take it slow and get her ready for me by touches and whispers, but when that mother fucker touched her, everything went out the window. The moment he called her name my antenna went up. His eyes tracked her as she walked and his voice conveyed ownership. It’s funny that a short, stumpy, bald piece of shit thinks he can handle her. He’s lucky he is still standing. “Shit.” my phone buzzes in my pocket. Reaching in, I see they are pulling out the big guns. “Cuz.” I address my cousin Julius.
“Loe. Tell me it’s just a rumor. Tell me these gossiping fucks are making it up and you haven’t dropped the ball.”
“It’s not true. Well, not all of it.”
“Damn. Do I need to come home?” he asks, clearly concerned for my state of mind.
“No. I have it under control. Is it true that his daughter is now the subject of my obsession as much, if not more, than ending his life? Yes. But, I am in no way dropping the plans I made for retribution. Believe me, I didn’t expect this, but I damn sure am going to grab her with both hands. Now, did you have something useful for me?” I don’t like explaining myself to anyone about anything. Definitely am not going to apologize for the one bright spot in my life.
“Turns out, Michaels kept a mistress here in Moscow. Seems he is living a double life.”
“Figures. Scumbag.”
“Exactly. I found out who he has on her. I am planning to infiltrate in the next few days and then I should be home.”
“Godspeed, cuz.” I hang up, nothing else to say. Looking at my watch, I see I have just enough time to get a thirty minute round at the gym before picking her up. I definitely need to work off this adrenaline. I fire up my IPOD and jab the bag hanging from the ceiling as Sucker for Pain by Imagine Dragons and Wiz Khalifa belts out in the surround sound. My muscles twitch with each punch, confirming the point of this exercise. To pound out my anger and bring the burn. Music is a big part of the self operating therapy I am doing. Without music, the constant drone of noise and shouting in my head as I relive the day my friend died, would be prominent and without a way to be drowned out.
