Chapter 9 #2
She enters the main building with more students, TAs and profs roaming about.
She straightens up as she passes Dean Patel, going into the auditorium with a group of freshmen.
I keep on her tail, Patel eyeing us both as I reach into my pocket for my phone.
Dialling her number, I wait for it to ring.
She takes one look at her phone, and it’s enough to slow her down as she bumps into a couple of lost students.
“Excuse me!” she yells, but it’s too late. My hand lands on her arm, and she graces me with a gasp.
“Not so fast, Kitten.” With a tight grip, I move her into the Dean’s reception area. Shiny wooden floors match the wooden reception desk, dim lighting shining on school accolades and donation plaques.
“Let go,” Hannah snips back, tugging from my hold. She slaps at my hand, my grip tightening. “I have a lecture.”
“Tough.”
“Dean Patel isn’t here right now!” The receptionist calls as we pass the glass-walled conference room, more plaques and favourable headlines on each side. This place gives the same vibe that the rest of The Hill has. Shining light on our perfection hides the darkness in us all.
Pushing Hannah into Patel’s office, I close the door, drowning out calls from reception. Her body slams into the thick wooden desk, Patel’s golden nameplate wobbling as her eyes meet mine.
“The Dean’s office?” Hannah scoffs. “One minute you’re saving me from the cops, the next you’re trying to get me expelled?”
“You’re right,” I say, locking the door behind me. “I did save you from the cops, but you forgot your manners.” My fingers trail along the wainscot walls showcasing portraits of old men framed in gold.
Knock! Knock!
“Hello?” The receptionist’s voice comes from behind the door. “You can’t be in there!”
“I’m supposed to thank you for locking me in the Dean’s office?” Hannah crosses her arms. “What did you stuff up your nose this time?”
I chuckle, taking a step forward. I don’t miss the way her shoulders rise when I get close to her. Nothing intimidates Hannah Alfonso. Except me.
When I’m by the desk, I let my fingers trail the smooth wood to a pair of golden scissors, gripping them in my hand.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Hello!” The receptionist’s voice rings through the door again.
“What do you want, Rye?” Hannah asks, exasperation in her tone. “I’m not getting on Patel’s shit-list because of you.”
One more step, and Hannah backs up again, squeezing herself against the desk. I’m a few inches away, and I can feel the heat off her, the light shining on her soft skin. I bring the tip of my boots to her heels, and her chest stops moving, like I’ve literally taken her breath away.
Lowering my head, I search those possessed eyes for what I want. “Say thank you.” My words come out as stern as I mean them.
Her eyes narrow. “I’m not thanking you for ruining my life.”
Hannah, between me and a desk with a sharp object is starting to become routine. It’s one of the only things that gets her looking at me like she is now. Like I’m winning.
“Sending your frenemy with the cops and saving you from the wrath of my father is far from ruining your life.” I trail the scissors up her arm, as lightly as I did the glass and the skate.
My free hand loosens a button on my shirt, the air warm.
“Or are you talking about the way your body responds when I touch you right… here.” I rest the pointy edge of the scissors right on her collarbone, and that makes her jump.
The tip of the scissors pushes into her skin before I pull them away.
“Careful, Kitten. You don’t want to get hurt, do you? ”
“You can’t keep me in here,” Hannah says, her voice thinning out.
“Don’t you get it, Hannah?” I press the scissors against her throat, watching her chest rise. “I can do whatever the fuck I want with you. Whenever I want.”
Knock, knock, knock!
Looking over my shoulder, the doorknob jiggles. “Priscilla, I will invite you to the next party if you shut the hell up.”
The knocking stops, and silence takes over the room before Hannah sighs. “Rye, say what you want so I can get the hell out of here before Dean Patel gets back.”
“What? You worried about her seeing what I do to you?”
“You should be worried about her seeing you hurt me. You’re already off the team, Rye, don’t push it.”
“I haven’t hurt you. Not yet.” Trailing the scissors down to her cleavage, I get a peek of those tits.
Her blush-pink nipples are as hard as they were last time.
Something about making her feel this way lights a fire in my chest. One that’s keeping me here longer than I need to.
Longer than what’s safe. So, I get to the point.
“You ruined my party venue, so I’m taking yours.
” Her head tilts, confusion swirling on her face.
“Your house. It’s mine. That’s where the next party will be. ”
“What? No.” Her face twists.
“You sure about that?” My knee pushes between her legs, spreading them just enough that I can walk my fingers between them. “Or do you want me to make you say yes?” Flipping the scissors, I let the dull edge kiss her throat. “I’ll even make you scream it.”
She stills, her eyes falling to the blades before moving up to my face. “Your threats are as empty as your soul.”
“Are they?” The way she lets my fingers trail her thigh makes me feel like we’re back in Coach’s office. Heat pricks my neck, my cock hardening as I climb my fingers higher, pressing the dull edge of the scissors into her skin.
She stares into my eyes with defiance. “How the hell are you going to host a party in my house, where my parents live?”
“That sounds like a problem you need to figure out. Not me.” The tips of my nails graze the edge of the soft cotton covering her folds. I want to hear those moans again. I want to leave her breathless. I want to hear my name shake out of her throat.
“Rye…” She says my name breathy and low, like she knows what I’m thinking. Like she knows it won’t take much for me to take over every inch of that body.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Dean’s presentation should be wrapping up. “Do we have a deal?” I press my fingers against her panties. They’re damp and that only makes this harder. It only makes me harder.
What the fuck am I doing?
“The lake house,” she says, almost a moan, before she clears her throat. “You can have our lake house.”
My fingers stop against her cotton-covered clit. “That’s not what I asked for.”
Her lips rise to my ear, and the way she sighs only makes me pin her harder against the desk with my hips.
“You want the lake house,” she says. “Think about it.” She walks her fingers down my chest, each touch like a knife to my skin.
“The moon glistening over the lake. All the space you can imagine.” Her fingers slide further down my abs, stopping right above my belt as my grip on the scissors tighten.
“No one to crash your party because it’s exclusive. Isn’t that what you want?”
Dropping the scissors to the floor, I grab her waist, propping her on Patel’s desk before spreading her legs. Standing between them, my face comes closer to hers. “Trust me, you can’t handle what I really want.”
She reaches into her bag before something dangles next to my ear. With her eyes still on me, she loops a key off the metal ring and hangs it between us. “Take it.”
Those words don’t help what’s happening in my pants. “You still didn’t say it,” I remind her.
“You’re a pain.”
“If you think I’m a pain, you have no idea what my father will do to bring down the asshole who ruined our family’s prized possessions. So, are you going to say it? Or am I going to take it from you?” The urge to push her back against this desk and throw her legs over my shoulder builds.
Stay away from Hannah.
Mac’s voice swirls through my head as she leans forward.
“Thank you so much, Rye.” She’s mocking me, my abs tightening.
For a second, I think I’ll give in to the side of me that wants to repeat the sins in Coach’s office.
“Thank you for ruining my life.” Her hands come to my chest, pushing me back, and I fight the urge to grip her wrists and climb on top of her.
Mac’s right. Touching Hannah is a problem.
She’s a problem.
Forcing my hands in my pockets, I smirk, turning towards the door. “Don’t thank me yet.”