TAMING THE ALPHA STREET RACER

The little human is aroused. I can smell it emanating from her in strong waves, but nothing on her face reveals how turned on she is by me. Instead, her face is beet red, and I can't tell if it's embarrassment from being so turned on or if she's mad. I bet on the latter as she gets up from her seat, grabs the bag, fingers still trembling as she storms in my direction.

My grin tugs into a smirk.

Her hands and voice tremble when she's in front of me, and her eyes are glassed over. "Zero."

I let out a lazy, indulgent sigh, straightening up from the podium. I tilt my head slightly, feigning confusion. "I believe the proper address is Professor Barron, Miss Coll. Now, why were you late?"

The question is a bait. I know exactly why she was late. She'd been with me up until this very morning.

But I wait to see if she'll take the bait, to see how much she remembers of her losing herself into my arms last night. Very reckless, very promiscuous, but I also had lost my control after she boldly, so unexpectedly pulled my zipper down while I drove, touched me, and then begged me to return the favor.

Immediately, the anger in her features dissolved to shame or embarrassment. Her eyes widened for a few seconds before she bats her lashes and lowered them. Her cheeks coats a reddish pink shade, and the smell of arousal is now tainted with anxious sweat.

''Tell me,'' I pester, slurring on my words. ''What's the problem. No longer mouthy/ Because last night you seemed to have a lot to say.'

She gasps.

My fingers tightens around the podium.

"Now, as if bracing herself for the next words, she takes in a greedy gulp of air, before. "I want to know what happened last night. I can't remember anything, but…"

"But?"

The pink of her cheeks flames hotter. "I have flashes."

"Flashes of what?" I press on.

"You…."

"Me where?"

She bites into her lower lip with a soft whine. That single act nearly drives me berserk. Stop, stop doing that, stop looking at me like that, stop making that sound. I lean closer, hungry for her confession, or her memory, or anything.

She closes her eyes, a fresh wave of tears gathering beneath her lids—this time they look like tears of confusion and fear. When she opens her eyes, the shame has morphed into a brittle, defensive accusation.

"I was drunk, Mr. Barron." Mr. Barron. The way she says it, so softly… I stifle the groan in my throat as she continues talking, her voice still trembling as if she's trying to tread gently through every word. "I have no memory of what happened after I took that drink. And you…." She pants, her bronze skin flushing crimson, the contrast striking against the brown hair that frames her face. "Y-you must have…"

"I must have what?" I press, my control hanging by a thread.

I step around the podium. She immediately takes a step backward, eyes—those striking blue eyes—wide and darting. I tower over her, and her short stature makes her look even smaller as she instinctively shrinks and shies away.

Mine. She is retreating. Hunt her. Valek's insistence is a burning heat in my gut.

I take another deliberate step toward her. My heart is thudding loudly and my ears are perched, listening for any tell-tale sounds of a janitor or another faculty member coming down the hallway to the lecture room. The hallway is silent.

"Let's review the facts, Miss Coll," I murmur. "Let's see how things had progressed at the race last night, shall we?"

I take another step. She takes another step back, her back beginning to graze the front row chairs.

"First, there was a police raid," I continue, watching her face tighten with fear. "You were waiting like a confused pup, completely abandoned."

"I– I wasn't abandoned." She stutters.

My head dips in a tilt. "Oh, really? Were you with a friend? A boyfriend? One that was going to come save you?"

I close the last gap between us. She has nowhere to go. Her back hits the hard plastic of the chair in the front row, and she slumps into it, effectively trapped between the chair and my presence. She looks up at me, those blue eyes full-blown, reflecting the overhead fluorescent lights.

I take a quick peek at the door—still closed. I then hunch forward, bracing one hand on the chair back and the other on the armrest, caging her in. My chest is only inches from hers.

Valek is happy. Ecstatic. Yes. This is right. Close. Closer. Put your hands on her.

I can smell more of her from this close, the vanilla, the sweat from her fear, the deep, musky trace of arousal clinging to her skin beneath her clothes. It's intoxicating. I force my hands to stay put, instantly creating a rule. Only words and proximity. Never contact, not while I wear this suit.

"I came back to pick you up," I continue, my voice a rough murmur, feeling her hot breath against my throat. "I was generous, Miss Coll. Because you genuinely looked like you were in the wrong place. You didn't fit in."

She tries to talk back again but only manages a stutter. "I-I-I was going to c-call a c-cab—"

"No, you looked too frightened to even move," I breathe, watching the wide terror in her blue eyes. "If I hadn't come back for you, your ass would be detained today, sitting in a precinct waiting for someone to bail out the reckless little student."

My eyes drop to her lips, focusing intensely on the soft, parted curve of them. They were plump and cherry pink. She notices the slow look and lets out an involuntary whimper in response. My gut tightens at the sound.