Pretty Little Lessons

Chapter Three

*Rory*

“What the hell is going on here?”

Blinking and trying to clear my hazy vision, I squinted and looked up—and my breath caught.

A man was standing in the doorway, tall enough to block the light behind him.

“Damn,” I breathed, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

His shirt, a black dress shirt, clung to a body carved from discipline—shoulders broad, chest solid, veins threading down strong forearms. Thin black frames framed cold blue eyes that glinted steel-gray as they swept the room, assessing, dangerous.

There was nothing soft about him. Not his stance. Not his gaze.

Just heat, power, and the kind of beauty that makes your heartbeat forget its rhythm.

Get it together, Rory. Now isn't the time to be lusting after a man.

“I believe I just asked you folks a question,” he added when no one answered, his voice a deep baritone that sent shivers down my spine.

Cole chuckled nervously and crossed over to me. “Nothing serious man,” he said and threw his arm over my shoulder. “Just having a quick chat with my girl.”

Ewww.

“Your girl, my ass,” I muttered and tried shaking off his arm but the asshole held on tight, his fingers digging into my arm.

Oh.

Bracing myself, I clutched the sink behind me tightly and lifting my leg, I stomped down hard on his left feet. He dropped his arm almost immediately, a pained howl exploding from his lips as he limped back, clutching his feet.

“Stay away from me!” I spat and shook my head as my vision turned.

I am barely holding on without collapsing.

“That isn't the impression I'm getting here tho,” the hot man in glasses mused as he took a step in further into the bathroom.

One of Cole's lackeys stepped up, his shoulders squared and puffed. “Who the hell are you?”

The man didn’t answer. He just stalked forward, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the wall so hard the mirror shook.

“Out,” he repeated, deadly calm, “Now.”

Cole and the other one beside him froze, their faces awash with fear.

Hot Clark Kent released the one he held hostage, his hard glare zeroing in on Cole. “Do I need to repeat mysef?”

They didn't need to be told twice as they scrambled for the exit and bolted like their asses were on fire.

The adrenaline bled out of me, leaving my limbs trembling and my mind spinning. Which made no sense, because for all I knew, this man could be the real danger here.

But somehow, I didn’t feel afraid. Just… aware.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low, steady.

I scoffed. “Do I look okay?” My vision tilted yet again and I gripped the counter for balance.

Dear lord, when is this going to end.

This wasn't my first time getting drugged, but it was surely the first time the effect is lasting this long.

He stepped closer, a frown cutting across his face—and holy mother of God.

Even though my vision was hazy, I couldn't help but notice how ridiculously handsome he was. Thick brows framed piercing blue eyes that had cooled to steel-gray, cheekbones sharp enough to wound, a mouth that looked far too good for someone who wasn’t mine. His jaw was strong, clean-shaven, and unfairly perfect.

If I wasn’t dizzy before, I sure was now.

“F…fantastic,” I mumbled, the word dragging. “My hero’s… a walking… thirst trap.”

Uh-oh… my words are beginning to slur. That doesn't look good.

“You’re drugged,” he said flatly.

“No s**t,” I grumbled testily.

He ignored my obvious snarky remarks and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “What did they give you?”

“No idea.” I swallowed hard, forcing a smirk. “What? You planning to lecture me now?”

A hard look flickered across his face like he was seriously considering putting me over his knees and whopping my ass.

Okay, that would be as sexy as hell tho.

“Maybe,” He finally said, his gaze dragging over me unintentionally, but it was intense enough to make my stomach flip for reasons unrelated to whatever Cole slipped me.

And suddenly, I was all aware of my dressing. Of how exposed I was in this short dress.

As if recollecting himself, he dragged his gaze away and adjusted his glasses. “Are you here with someone? Someone I could call to come pick you up?” he asked as he took out his phone.

“Nope,” I said, popping the ‘p’ just to see what he’d do. His eyes flicked to my mouth—then away just as fast. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and for one reckless heartbeat, neither of us moved.

Heat curled in my lower belly as I watched his pupils dilate. The air between us suddenly thick with erotic tension.

A grown man and woman in a private space… what on earth could happen?

Okay, so I might still be 18 and all but my point still stands.

It didn't matter if I was high with some s**t. I want this man and I want him now.

“You shouldn’t be here alone. Especially dresed like that.”

He didn't say it out, but his eyes said it all. He was also attracted to me.

“Wow,” I said lightly, though my voice wavered. “You must be fun at parties.”

“I’m not here to party.” His jaw tightened. “Come on. You need water and fresh air.”

He turned without waiting for me and as I moved to go after him, my legs gave out on me and I fell like a bag of disgrace.

“Ow,” I cried as I cradled my slightly scrapped arm.

He stopped and exhaled through his nose, a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl.

Before I could process what was happening, his arms slipped under me, one behind my back, the other beneath my knees, and I was lifted clean off the floor.

“Hey! what are you—” I started, but he didn’t answer. His jaw was set, eyes hard behind those thin black frames.

I tried to juggle cradling my scraped arm and my clutch, but the movement only made his hold tighten. He adjusted me against his chest like I weighed nothing, his body warm and solid, the faint scent of cologne and clean soap curling around me.

“Stop squirming,” he muttered, low and sharp.

“My ass is going to be out for everyone to see, you neanderthal !” I hissed, my arms instinctively crossing around his neck.

And the panties I was wearing were so little they barely existed.

“Good, maybe next time you will think twice before putting on some scrap of clothing that barely covers it!“ He grunted somewhat incoherently.

My mouth fell open. That was misogynistic, right?

It has to be.

But before I could lay off on him, he adjusted his arm that was under my knee so that my ass was not exposed.

I blinked up at him, a shaky laugh escaping despite myself. “You’re really bad at comforting people, you know that?”

His mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. “I’m not here to comfort you.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, the words coming out softer than I meant. “I figured.”

But as his arms stayed firm around me, steady and unrelenting, I couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading through me—half embarrassment, half something I didn’t dare name.

He was grumpy, distant, and absolutely terrible at gentleness.

And still, I couldn’t seem to stop leaning into him.

We didn’t go outside. He just carried me out and down a dark hall, up a narrow staircase.

“Where are you taking me to?” I mumbled, my words muffled by his shoulder as I peered down the hall. “You are not some organ harvester, are you?”

He paused, his arms loosening a little as he jiggled me around a bit. “Do you want me to dump you right here or would you shut up?”

I tightened my hold around his neck, my boobs pressing into his shoulder. “Omg… do you ever laugh a little. Jesus!”

He shook his head and continued down the hall. Soon, we entered a private room with low lights, leather couches, quiet music and cool air that brushed against my overheated skin.

He laid me gently on a leather couch and I collapsed onto it with a dramatic sigh. “This your place?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Friend’s club.”

“Ah,” I said. “So you’re not a hero. Just a nosy guest.”

He poured water from a crystal carafe and handed it to me. “Drink.”

“Bossy,” I murmured, sipping anyway.

He sat across from me, watching too closely. “How old are you?”

I raised a brow. “How old do I look?”

“Old enough to get yourself in trouble.” His tone was sharp, disapproving.

I laughed. “Relax. I’m fine and besides I can take care of myself.”

“You were not fine,” he snapped, then caught himself. “You don’t even know what was in that drink.”

“Like you’ve never done anything stupid.”

His mouth curved, his heated gaze touching every inch of my face. “Not this stupid.”

And suddenly, I didn't feel so high anymore. Just hot and clearly bothered by the hot male specimen in front of me.

Something about his intensity made my chest tighten. Maybe it was the drug, maybe not. Either way, I leaned forward, reckless. “You’re staring.”

“Because you’re reckless,” he shot back. “And high.”

“And you’re judging me.” My lips curved. “But you didn’t walk away.”

The air shifted to something charged and magnetic. His gaze dipped briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “This is a bad idea.”

“Then stop me,” I whispered.

Before I could second guess myself, I stood up, marched up to him and straddled him on the couch.

His body locked up, his eyes widening as my thighs tightened around him. “What are you doing?”

I leaned forward and pressed a finger to his lips. “Shhh, just feel,” I whispered, my voice low and husky. I pressed closer, letting the undeniable contact settle between us.

His hands found my waist, holding me in place but not pushing me away. “You are currently high and not in possession of your senses.”

He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself.

“I have never been more aware of what I'm doing,” I assured him. “The effects of the drug wore off after I drank some water.”

“This is a mistake,” he murmured, still not convinced.

“Probably,” I whispered back.

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was the kind of kiss that felt like a collision—sharp, necessary, unstoppable. His hand lingered at the curve of my jaw, the other steadying me by the shoulder as if he was both holding me close and trying not to.

When he finally pulled back, his breath mingled with mine, rough and uneven.

“I told you,” he said quietly, eyes shadowed. “Bad idea.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, lips still tingling. “But I’m not sorry.”

And then, this time I kissed him.

I slowly closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips against mine, the raw lust and arousal pooling in my belly. I bit lightly into his lower lip, a challenge he immediately accepted.

He groaned deep in his throat, his fingers gripping my jaw as he deepened the kiss, drawing me more firmly into his hard frame. The pressure of his body against mine sent a shockwave of awareness through me.

Suddenly he drew back, his breathing harsh and hot against my cheeks. “Hell,” he rasped, reaching up to remove his glasses. “I really want to touch you, but…”

My heart stuttered. He sounded so tortured and so scared.

“But?”

He looked up at me, his blue eyes aflame with desire. “You look so small,” he confessed, his hands fisting by my waist. “And so breakable.”

I blinked and then took his hands, moving them to settle higher on my chest. “Then break me,” I said.

Something wild and unrestrained flashed in his eyes and then with a low growl, he gripped my hips, stood up and strode over to the bed before dropping me gently onto the cool sheets.

“Oh,” I huffed as I took a moment to catch my breath only for it to be snatched when he quickly yanked his dress shirt over his head.

My mouth dried, taking in the flash of defined abdominal muscles and complex tattoos, just as he descended on me and captured my mouth in his once more.

This one was even more demanding and intrusive than the last. He took the initiative and slipped his tongue inside my mouth, a heated, searching battle that made me gasp.

He knew what he wanted and he took it with dominance. When I tried slipping my hands down to his pants, he caught them and held them hostage over my head with one hand.

A deep whimper was torn from my lips when he pulled me flush against him, making the sheer size of his desire impossible to ignore against my lower belly.

The need for him pulsed inside me. I was growing desperate by the minute.

Raising my hips, I rocked gently against him, the sudden motion earning a deep groan.

He released a string of curses deep in his throat as he dragged his lips down my throat and bit softly into the sensitive skin. “You are going to be the death of me.”

He traced a wet line down to my cleavage and then used his left hand to push down the material until my fullness was exposed.

“f**k me,” he whispered reverently as he took in my shape. My n*****s pebbled and jutted out as his hand left my hip and cupped me. His thumb swept across my engorged peak before he gave it a sharp, testing squeeze.

“Ow!” I whimpered, my teeth digging into my swollen lips as pleasure coursed through me.

“They are perfect.” Was what he said as his head dipped and he took one peak into his mouth and suckled.

“Arghhh,” I whimpered, more hot sensations filling me, the ache intensifying. I tried freeing my wrists from the tight hold but he didn't budge. “I want to touch you…” I pleaded desperately.

“Not yet, petal, I want to take my time and get acquainted with these pretty girls first,” he said in refusal as he circled his tongue around me before sucking it back into his mouth.

God, he was torturing me.

And just then, his phone buzzed loudly on the table by our head. He cursed, and then pulled away, his breathing ragged. “I have to take this.”

Forcing down the disappointment, I flashed him a smile and said, “Take your time.”

He regarded me for a moment and then pressed a kiss to my lips. “I will make it quick,” he promised.

I nodded and sat up on my elbows, pulse hammering, lips swollen.

I watched as he disappeared into the bathroom with his phone pressed to his ear, his back muscles beautified with more tattoos flexing as he raked a hand through his hair.

Damn! He had a lot of tattoos.

I bit my lips, my hands reaching down to where the heat still lingered between my thighs. “God, he's hot.”

As my fingers hovered, teasing the edge of my dress, my phone buzzed with a new message, startling me.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered raggedly as my pounding heart receded. I had forgotten that I still had my phone with me.

Reaching for it, I swiped it open to see the message.

MOTHER: On our way back. You better be home when we get there.

My stomach sank.

“Of course,” I whispered.

One message was all it took for my reality to come knocking.

I stood on shaky legs, fixed my hair and adjusted my dress. As I re-applied my lipstick, I relished the taste of him on my tongue, regret slashing me in half.

I glanced at the bathroom door, my hands clenching. I wanted to stay. God, I wanted to. But I wasn’t ready to explain any of this—not to him, not to myself.

And then, like a coward, or maybe like a girl who knew this wasn’t meant to last…I slipped out quietly, heels clicking down the stairs, my heart still racing from his kiss and the intimate friction of the last few minutes.