Page 88 of The Villain We Tempt

Heat seeps into my cheeks and my pulse skips a beat.How does she know?

I must be staring at Bella like a total freak, because she knits her dark brows and peers at me like I’ve grown a second nose.

“The douchey looking dude who was just hovering over you.”

My Ghost Prince-induced haze of horniness scatters in a nonexistent wind.

Trevor. She’s talking about Trevor Cohen, who was just trying his damnedest to flirt with me before Bella charged into the classroom and to my rescue, sending Trevor scurrying back to his new assigned seat near the back.

…As opposed to the creepIwas just thinking of.

The one who watched me.

Who’s invaded my every thought and fantasy.

Who made me shatter all over his tongue, and whose high-def dick pic isstillon my phone.

…A creep who I might not actually be that upset about creeping on me.

Just the same, I’ve stopped all communication with him after that stupidly flirtatious exchange yesterday.

Ugh, I need professional help.

I shoot a glance over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Trevor scowling at his phone before I twist back to Bella with a grin.

“Seriously, thank you for the rescue,” I groan. “Again.”

Her brows knit. “Any time. I don’t tolerate creeps.” Her dark, manicured brows furrow a little deeper. “Does he do more than just try to flirt with you in class?”

I shrug. “Nah. Not really.”

Her mouth purses. “Seriously. Do you ever feel, like, unsafe, or?—”

“Oh no.” I shake my head with a roll of my eyes. “Nothing like that. He just can’t take the hint.”

“Hmm.” Bella is absently sketching in the margin of her notebook as she nods at my reply. “Well, let me know if he ever escalates.”

My throat bobs as I see what she’s been doodling on her notebook: a slightly cartoonyknife, dripping with blood.

Ooookay then.

We both whirl as the door bangs open and a gorgeousmenacestrides in like he owns the classroom and everyone in it.

…By which I mean Lochlan. Obviously.

He’s wearing the same dark blue, black, and charcoal gray school uniform as the rest of us. But when he gets to Professor McGrath’s desk, he shrugs his jacket off his broad shoulders, and my throat bobs involuntarily.

His shoulders roll, straining the crisp white dress shirt stretched across his chest. He folds the jacket over the back of Professor McGrath’s chair, loosens his tie, and then undoes the top two buttons of his shirt.

It’s disgusting how good-looking he is. I’moffendedby what a boring, douchey jock he is under all of that wasted win of the genetic lottery.

“I cannot believe he’s actually teaching this class,” Bella mutters under her breath next to me, making me bite back a grin. “Sucha tool.”

I’m about to joke that he probably exclusively has sex in the missionary position, lights on just enough for him to watch his own reflection in a mirror. But then I remember that we’re talking about Bella’s cousin here, and I zip it.

He starts to roll the sleeves of his dress shirt up to the elbows, revealing the rippling muscles of his forearms adorned with a few tattoos.

Seriously, what a waste. This guy would kill it on MaskTok.