Still Not Over You(81)

I think I know a psychotic asshole who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth when I see one. Knew it from the night I was dumb enough to go out with him.

I just didn't think he'd go to these lengths for another chance. Never imagined he'd bother me here.

I freeze, trying to think without making it too obvious. I don’t dare glance around.

That would be the worst thing: letting him think he has me scared.

But he does.

This looney tune has my heart crawling up my throat.

“Are we done playing now?” He steps closer, an eerie warmth on his face. “I know you like Preston, Isabella. Everyone does. You just have a rather curious way of showing it.”

A shiver ripples through my entire body. I have nothing to defend myself, and shoot a sideways glance at the desk, scanning for something that might work.

Nothing. Not even a sharp pencil.

I'm screwed. Estimating how loud I can scream when everything changes.

Preston falls backwards, grabbing the edge of the desk so hard it moves, scraping the floor. Then I see Brent Eden. Nostrils flaring, he has a hand on the back of Preston’s starched shirt collar.

Preston twists his neck, taking in the man holding onto him. “W-Who are you?”

“Nothing and no one,” Brent says, echoing his earlier words.

Though I never condone violence, right now I wouldn’t mind seeing Preston knocked on his ass.

He tries shaking off Brent’s iron grip. “You're making a big mistake! I’m Preston Graves the third and –”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Brent growls, tightening his hold.

Wow.

Preston squirms, panic in his eyes. “But...this is crazy! Isabella and I are dating.”

Brent’s green eyes settle on me. My heart's still in my throat, but I manage to shake my head for a split second.

This courtship ended after the first and only date Preston Graves will ever get from me. One date too many.

“I don’t think so,” Brent says, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Yes, we are,” Preston insists. “Tell him Isabella!”

Even if I could find my tongue, that’s the last thing I’d admit to.

A mischievous glint flashes in Brent’s eyes. “She can’t be dating you. She’s dating me.”

Wait. What?!

I nearly choke on my own breath.

Preston tries harder to get loose. “Impossible!”

Brent spins Preston around so they’re face to face. “Then you probably also believe it’s impossible we’re engaged. And that I’ll beat the fuck out of any man who comes within twenty feet of my fiancée.”

I'm no stranger to F-words, but that one, on his lips, makes me want to pass out.

He gives Preston another shove and before I know it, Brent grabs me, one hand on the back of my head, and smashes his lips against mine.

I'm gone.

Heat consumes me so swiftly the world melts. His lips are all fire. The blood surging through my veins might be lava.

My lips part – they never have a chance – and his tongue sweeps into my mouth.

Hot. Bold. Amazing.

Brent’s other arm wraps around me, holding my body tight against the length of him. It's like an ice cream cone up against a space heater. My entire body melts down from the inside out.

Holy hell. This is the kind of kiss every girl dreams about. The take-me-out-of-this-world kind.

I’m so engrossed several moments flit by before I remember he shouldn’t be kissing me.

We aren’t alone. I barely know him. He’s my student’s father.

A dozen other realizations bum-rush my dizzy brain, including Preston’s voice.

I pull out of the kiss – regretfully. Still too worked up to stand on my own, I lean against Brent, taking a few seconds to let the real world return.

“No one dumps Preston Graves!” He says numbly, his anger slowly returning. “And that stupid app guaranteed three dates. Three!” He holds up his fingers, as if I don't know how to count.

Hell, after that kiss, maybe I don't.

“I can sue. Sue them, and you. Both of you!” He prattles on, stomping a foot like a child not getting his way. “You've made a big mistake, Isabella Derby. You and your thug boyfriend. I'll take every penny you have and – and her teacher’s license. Just watch me. Preston Graves can do that!”

Brent’s upper lip curls slightly as he shakes his head. “Preston Graves better get the fuck out of here before he needs to sue for medical expenses, too.”

“Hey! Is there a problem here?”

I push away from Brent’s side as Oscar Winters and Natalie walk through the door. The poor girl looks bewildered, probably wondering what the hold up is with her dad.

“Yeah. Big problem,” Brent replies, pointing at Preston. “Did you let his man in the building?”

“No.” Oscar's face falls, realizing the seriousness. He might not have Brent's rogue good looks, but he's a big man. Over six feet tall and two hundred intimidating pounds, Oscar walks towards Preston. “How did you get in here, sir?”

“Dear God, are you all clueless? Preston Graves can go anywhere he damn well –”

“No, he can’t,” Brent interjects. “I don’t know how he got in the building, but I saw him sneaking out of the men’s room. Didn't like the look on his face. I followed.”