5
For twelve hours, Carter had done nothing but fume and ruminate over the ways in which he could make his new tutor’s life hell. He was still astounded that she’d spoken to him the way she had.
No one spoke to Carter like that.
No. One.
Fucking. Ever.
For hours after their meeting, he’d been unable to rid himself of the rage she’d sparked within him, the absolute fury at being spoken to in such a way and, unbelievably and more infuriating than all of that combined, the wild lust that had shaken his entire body.
It was almost as if an electric current had shot between them when she spat her words at him. Goddamn her heavy breaths and her venomous tone, which made parts of him twitch and pulse—parts that had been dormant for a long time, parts that made him want to do wild and wicked things to her all over his desk until she knew how he expected to be treated. He was seething at himself for thinking those things about a woman he’d met for all of fifty-five minutes.
Yeah, she was hot; any red-blooded male could see that, with her auburn Dana fucking Scully hair, full pink lips, voluptuous ass, and killer rack. Christ, her fire was sexy as hell. The desire and hunger which slammed into him had been so unexpected, it had caught him off guard, and in a place like Kill, that was some dangerous shit.
Miss Lane was a sanctimonious nobody who needed to learn fast that he would not tolerate her speaking and acting so … unafraid of him.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, remembering the look on her face when she hissed at him. There was not an inkling of fear or a spark of anything that would suggest he intimidated her. She’d burned with energy so fierce he could taste it in the air between them. He’d even done what she’d asked from him and written the one word he lived by every day.
Not that she’d understand, let alone have experience of it in her pretty, perfect little existence.
The other thing that had irritated him was the fact that the other guys in the class seemed to like her—even Riley, who’d laughed while Carter had fumed and spat out his incredulity during a cigarette before lunch. Carter couldn’t deny he’d been unprepared for the protective tone in Riley’s voice and the hint of warning in his eye.
“You expect me to respect some broad who was probably born with a silver spoon in her fucking mouth and hasn’t had to want for anything?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Riley had answered with a nonchalant shrug.
Carter had snorted and shaken his head. There was no way.
“So,” Riley had said, breaking the silence. “She’s hot, right?”
Carter couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted. “Oh yeah.”
Riley had slapped his back hard enough to make him flinch. “That’s one for the spank bank, my good man,” he’d offered with a wink.
* * *
The following morning, after several cups of coffee, Kat began setting up her classroom. After a relatively good night’s sleep, she’d started seeing the situation a little more objectively. She’d surmised that Carter was in a highly tense and emotional environment, and her demanding him to do what she wanted was not going to make him any less uncooperative. It was going to be hard as hell, but she’d decided she was at least going to try. She glanced at his empty seat, imagining his slouch and his penetrating stare. Lord. This was going to be harder than she thought.
What she read in his file hadn’t been a surprise. Carter was the poster boy for rebellious deviants. Sentenced to thirty-six months for cocaine possession in the second degree nineteen months previous, Carter, since the age of fifteen, had been in detention centers or incarceration of some description at least six months out of every twelve.
He’d dropped out of school at seventeen, where his GPA had been above average. He’d excelled in sports and English and listed Salinger, Steinbeck, and Selby Jr. as his favorite writers. It was clear that he was intelligent, a fact that he’d made apparent with his comments about her class and how “basic” he found the work. Kat bristled at the memory.
She knew she could have him removed from her classroom to make a point that she was in charge. But then he would have won. Giving up and running away, or ignoring the issue, would not do for Kat Lane. She would never be forced to run away from anything ever again. He would not defeat her, and it vexed her that he’d even tried.
Because of her eagerness to get the morning out of the way as fast as humanly possible, she was pacing the front of the room when the inmates entered, led by Jason, who threw a large smile in her direction. Riley bowed and followed him single file. She turned from laughing at Riley and her breath caught. Her heart started to stutter when Carter strode into the room, ignoring Kat and pushing Corey out of the way to get to his seat.
The irrational irritation and heat she’d apparently quelled with her hypothesizing and promise to try reared instantly when their eyes locked for a split second.
Clearing her throat, Kat made her way to her desk. “I’m glad we’re all here. Today we’re going to start our poetry study, which we will do for the next week before we start our Shakespeare play.”
Kat rested her backside against her desk, her skin tingling. She’d seen Carter’s reaction to the poem she’d distributed, and had managed to stay quiet by biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. She focused on getting her words out and not on the desire she had to pull a face, stick her tongue out, or perform some other equally inappropriate gesture.
Jesus—mature, much?
She took a deep breath. “I’d like to start by asking what you all know about poetry.”
The room remained silent. Riley perused the ceiling as he always did, as though the answer was written there, while Jason and Corey looked at her like she’d grown three additional heads. Sam kept his eyes on the desk in front of him, happy to keep quiet after the fiasco of yesterday’s session. He hated confrontations.
Jason slowly raised his hand, meeting Kat’s eyes with trepidation. “They can rhyme?”
“They can, absolutely,” she answered with a smile. “Just like the poem we’ll be studying, but that’s not always the case.”
“They’re always about pansy-ass shit like love,” Riley complained from his seat.
“That is true in some cases, Riley, but not in this one,” Kat replied with a shake of her head. “Would I do that to you?” Riley chuckled.
The undeniable sound of Carter mumbling something into the back of his hand had Kat’s head swiveling in his direction. “I’m sorry, Carter, I didn’t catch that.”
He dropped his hands to the desk and shot her a daggered stare.
“We have a very simple rule in this classroom,” Kat added when the silence continued. “You have something to say, you say it. Okay?” The smile she gave was sugary sweet.
“Or else what?”
Kat cocked her head to the side, studying him. He was undeniably attractive, hiding a rage that simmered beneath his skin.
“Or else you can leave. It’s that simple.” Kat moved closer, speaking quietly. “I’ve told you before. This is my classroom. My rules. You do as you’re asked.” Kat lifted the left corner of her mouth in her own derisive grin. “Not too basic for you, is it?”
“Basic,” Corey muttered behind his hand.
Before Kat could say anything else, Carter slammed his hand down hard enough to split the wood of the desk and shoved his chair back with such force it clattered into the desk behind it. Furious silence blanketed the room.
“Something fucking funny?” he growled down at Corey before shooting a glare at Officer West, who’d moved from his position by the door. “Care to share?” Carter continued, taking a step toward his prey. “I don’t appreciate being left out of a joke.”
Kat was spellbound.
She moved slowly. “Carter, calm down.”
Carter ignored her, bending at the waist to eyeball a wary-looking Corey. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Come on now, Carter,” Officer West murmured while throwing a worried glance in Kat’s direction.
“Carter, sit down,” Kat urged, hiding the panic in her voice with firmness and authority. “There’s no need for this. Cool it.”
“Yeah, man,” Corey continued. “Cool it.”
In a quick move, Carter put his hands under the edge of Corey’s desk and flung it hard against the wall with an almighty roar. The sound of the wood careening into the plastic-covered brick resonated around the room like a death knell.
Everyone was immediately on his or her feet, with Officer West grabbing his baton and lunging at Carter before he got closer to Corey, paralyzed in his seat. Kat’s body seized up behind a psyched-up Riley, who protected her with his size as three more guards descended onto Carter.
Kat watched in alarm around Riley’s mammoth biceps as Officer West threw Carter against the wall. The officers—called by the panic alarm hit by Rachel—were upon him in a second. Kat flinched when she heard Carter’s grunts and curses as they pushed and pummeled him hard while cuffing him.
“That’s my fucking wrist!” he yelled into the face of one of the officers before being slammed into the wall again face-first. The officer twisted his wrist farther with a sadistic smile on his face, making Carter shout out in obvious pain.
“Hey!” Kat cried, whipping under Riley’s arm, past a laughing Corey. She stormed over to the rabble of angry men.
Carter, whose left cheek was pressed into the wall, eyed her furiously. She scowled at the guard who’d tried to snap the bone in his wrist.
“I saw that,” she fumed, pointing to Carter’s cuffs. “You don’t need to hurt him. It’s unnecessary.”
“Oh, Miss Lane, it’s very necessary,” the officer countered with a hard voice. “You need to keep them in check, see.” He pulled Carter into an upright position.
Kat immediately saw blood trailing from Carter’s left nostril, down his lip. “He’s bleeding!”
“He’s fine,” the guard barked. He thrust Carter forward but was halted by Kat’s firm, unmoving hand on his chest.
“Wait!” She paused for a second before going to her purse and retrieving a pack of tissues. She pulled one out and walked back to Carter, whose face read a million and one different things.
He started to protest when her hand moved to his face. “You don’t need to fuc—”
“Shut up and let me help you,” she bit with a finality and insistence that shut Carter’s mouth with a snap. He took a deep breath when the tissue in her hand swiped at the blood.
His eyes on Kat’s face left a trail of warmth from her hairline down to her nose and mouth. Trying her hardest to ignore the fact that her heart was about to burst, Kat focused hard—watching the swiping motion of the tissue—but felt every movement he made. Every time he breathed and it whispered across her hand under his nose, she swallowed, and every time his mouth twitched, her lungs squeezed.
She wiped gently but determinedly until his face was a damn sight better than it had been after the officers had manhandled him so violently. He hadn’t deserved their treatment. She stared intently around his face and noticed a mark starting to appear on his cheek.
The urge to touch the appearing bruise shook Kat to her core. She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze from his. She seemed to have no power over her hand or its intentions as it started to move toward the skin under his eye, where his bone jutted out in all its sculptured glory. She wanted to ease the redness of it through her fingertips and soothe the ache she just knew was burning under his skin, but she couldn’t.
“All done,” she muttered, wiping a spot of blood on her thumb.
Carter frowned. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Instead, he scoffed before the three guards marched him past her and out of the classroom.
Kat heaved a sigh and tossed the bloodied tissue into the trash can.