Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
When we finally break apart, we’re both panting. He doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath drifting over my lips.
“I’m sorry.” He steps backward.
There’s a wild desperation in his eyes that frightens me. He looks lost, tortured even. And I realize then just how little I actually know about this man.
Then—
“You know what? Fuck that. I’m not sorry. Not the least fucking bit sorry.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jason
I kiss her again, hard and needy, knowing full well I’m probably bruising her beautiful lips.
And I don’t care.
I don’t care that this is wrong. That she’s my student. That the guilt is eating me alive.
Our lips are smashed together, our teeth clashing, our tongues tangling.
I can’t get enough of her. I don’t ever want to get enough of her.
My mind whirls, but I tamp down the thoughts—the knowledge that this is wrong, that I should walk away.
God only knows I have enough of my own baggage.
Why drag an innocent woman into it?
Except that she’s awakened feelings in me I thought were long dead and buried.
I deepen the kiss, devouring her, until she grips my shoulders, pushing me away from her. The kiss breaks with a loud smack.
“Jason…”
“What? You want to tell me you didn’t want that, Angie? Because I know damned well you did.” I rake my gaze over her body. “Your nipples are hard. I can see them through your shirt.” I inhale. “And you’re wet. I can smell you. Like an animal stalking his mate. I smell you, Angie. I smell how much you want this. How much you want me.”
She gulps audibly. Her lips are trembling—swollen from my kiss and trembling.
“Jason…” she ekes out.
“God, the way you say my name…” I’m as hard as I’ve ever been. I’m uncomfortable in these damned clothes.
She drops her gaze to my crotch.
“That’s right,” I say. “See that? See what you do to me? I want you just as much as you want me. I don’t fucking care that it’s wrong. I don’t care. I’m not sorry. You understand that, Angie? I’m not fucking sorry.”
She gulps again. “Jason… I’m…not sorry either.”
I grab her then, crush our mouths together once more.
We’re in the lab.
The anatomy lab.
The cadavers watch us, judging us, their bodies splayed out like grisly spectators, and although covered, their lifeless eyes still seem to hold an eerie presence as witnesses to our passion.
The air is thick with odd smells and unspoken desires. The quiet hum of the refrigerator units is drowned by the frantic pounding of our hearts.
“Jason,” Angie gasps, digging her fingers into my back as I trail hungry kisses down her neck.
Her voice echoes in the room, bouncing off the cold tiled walls.
My breathing grows ragged at her touch, my senses heightened to a frustrating level. I don’t care about the consequences anymore. My need for Angie overpowers every shred of guilt and fear.
I press her body against one of the empty tables, feeling her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer.
“Stop,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper.
But she doesn’t want to stop what we’re doing. It’s not a plea.
It’s a command—one filled with the same relentless need that has our hearts racing and our bodies trembling. She wants control. She wants me as much as I want her.
I let her take it. I let her push me back until my spine meets the cold steel of the table behind me. The chill sends shivers racing down my spine, but it does nothing to quench the burning heat coursing through my veins.
With one swift move, she pins me against the surface and captures my lips in a passionate kiss. She unbuttons my shirt, her touch leaving a trail of fire on my skin that only fuels the need coursing through me.
Her own shirt falls to the floor. When—how—did she take it off?
I cup her gorgeous breasts through the lace of her bra as we continue to devour each other, the taste of her skin intoxicating. She leans into my touch, a soft moan escaping her. But then she pauses, her breath hitching as she looks toward the door.
“Jason,” she whispers, pulling away slightly. Her eyes are wide with fear, her body rigid. “What if someone walks in?”
I reach out and gently cup her face with my hand, brush my thumb over the softness of her cheek. “Let them,” I breathe, my voice rough with desire.
And then I’m kissing her again, pulling her close until there’s not a single inch of space left between us. She threads her fingers through my hair, our bodies moving in sync as if we’ve done this a thousand times before.
The entire world could be walking by, and I wouldn’t care. All I can think about is Angie—her taste, her touch, her gasps and moans that send a primal thrill coursing through me.