Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Mr. Carver starts his biology lesson and I sink back into my chair. I’m not the biggest fan of biology but I’m good at it and if I plan on graduating with some sort of future to look forward to, then you better believe that I’m not going to miss a single class.
I’m more of an artsy girl. I like to paint, I like making sculptures and creative writing. I like to be free and that’s exactly what I’m going to be. I’m going to get myself through school and get a great college degree so I can set myself up for a successful life where I can create as much art as I want.
“Okay, guys. Open your textbooks to page 63,” Carver says, waiting a beat for his students to fall in line. “Today we’ll be revising all things genetics to prepare for your exam tomorrow.”
I open my book and scan the pages with a bored sigh. I only just finished genetics at my old school and received an A for my efforts. I wonder if Mr. Carver will reach out to my old teacher and get a copy of my test rather than having to sit through an exam I’ve already completed.
Realizing I’m not going to learn anything new today, I pull out my notepad and start sketching ideas for my art project that the rest of my class has already had a head start on, but I don’t let it worry me. When it comes to stuff like this, I can usually pull the ideas out of thin air.
My pencil freely glides across the paper as though its sole purpose was to exist for this very project. Delicate lines begin to form as harsher ones create solid lines.
The door opening has every eye in the room snapping up and dread instantly fills me. Crap. I thought I was safe here.
Slade stands at the door, surveying the class before him as though he’s the ruler of this very room. Someone should give the guy a throne at the front of the room and he’ll probably feel right at home, keeping a close eye over his loyal subjects.
His gaze falls to me and the grin that takes over has my gut twisting in pain. He strides forward as Mr. Carver gets sick of his wasted time. “Cruz, you’re late. Hurry up and find your seat.”
His grin seems to widen but his slow pace and intense stare warn me that I need to prepare myself. It’s only my second day here. How is it possible that I’m about to go for round three with the guy? He must be a real sucker for torture because that’s all he’s going to get out of me.
Maybe the guy enjoys a woman putting him down. You know, there are plenty of dudes who get off on that kind of thing. They spend the day being at the top of their game, the big dog with the world bending at their will, but then the one who won’t fall in line comes along and suddenly they’re so hard they could explode. Yeah, I know I hardly know the guy, but that’s got Slade Cruz written all over it. I wonder how far he’ll take it. I bet he wants to be tied up and spanked.
Just when I think Slade is going to walk straight past me, he stops by my seat and places one hand down on the table while the other falls to the back of my seat, caging me in as though I’m some sort of animal.
I turn to look up at him and the heat in his eyes throws me off guard for the shortest second. I raise my chin, daring him to say whatever bullshit he’s got planned for me this morning. He leans in and time slows down. I feel the blood rushing through my body and pumping loudly in my ears.
Maybe I’m the one who enjoys the torture because, damn, this is kinda exciting. Well, I guess I’ve already established that I enjoy the torture. Though, perhaps ‘enjoy’ is the wrong word. I like the rush that feuding with this guy brings. I like that his presence is enough to make me forget the pain and I more than like that when he’s hovering over me as though he has something to prove, it gives me all the ammunition in the world to shoot him back down.
Slade finally dips in low enough to get the show on the road. His breath tickles my skin and I ignore how goosebumps begin to raise all over my skin. That’s something I’ll have to think about later, as for now, I have round three to win.
His voice is low and domineering, intimidating enough to have grown men wetting their pants. “Move,” he orders. “You’re in my seat.”