Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

MARSHALL

I exit the staff room in a daze after talking to the officers tasked with questioning the teachers—anyone who knew Monica.

Dead.

Brutally murdered.

Those were the words they used.

The hallways blur as my shoulders crash into students. I see nothing, stumbling forward with my head down. She was slaughtered in her home. It was so bad that the responding officers puked their guts up on the porch outside.

A large hand grabs my arm and pulls me into an empty lecture hall. Cruz slams his hand on the door behind me, but I don't see him. Not even when he slides his fingers into my hair and fists the strands hard enough to make my scalp burn. I stare at him, blinking slowly.

His intoxicating scent evokes another memory, and I search his devastating face while he talks to me. I can't hear him. His mouth moves, but no words reach my ears.

"Where were you last night?" I ask.

He stiffens, then a smirk creeps over his lips, and it's enough to rouse me from the haze. I escape from his hold, and he stalks me deeper into the lecture hall. His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing a sliver of olive skin below the hem of his black T-shirt. When he stalks me, that sliver of skin is all I can focus on, knowing where it leads.

"I was inside your mouth, Marshall."

My head shakes, and I lock eyes with him. "No, it was late when you arrived. Where were you before you broke into my home?"

He cocks his head to the side and taps his finger and thumb together. "Why don't you say it?"

A breath escapes me when the backs of my ankles crash against the raised podium. There's nowhere to go. I glance down at his hands, remembering the tangy, iron-rich scent that assaulted my senses. "I could smell blood on you."

His eyebrow quirks, and his smirk returns. "Is that so?"

I try to decipher his expression, but if there's one thing Cruz has perfected throughout the years, it's his cocky mask. With a chuckle, his brown eyes hold mine as he licks his lips and saunters toward me until he's within reach. Up close, he's nothing short of deadly, carved like stone and perfected by a vengeful god. He's breathtaking.

"You killed her, Cruz," I whisper.

He devours my face with eyes that hunger for my very soul. "I didn't kill anyone, Marshall."

My teeth grind as he steps even closer.

"Your mind is playing tricks on you."

"No." I shake my head. "I know what I saw last night."

"What did you see?" he presses, fisting my shirt and pulling me into him. My heart stutters as he drags his tongue up the column of my throat, whispering in my ear, "You saw nothing."

"You smelled of?—"

"Blood? Did you see any, Professor? Did I look like I'd returned from a bloodbath?"

No, he didn't. There wasn't a spot of blood on him, but the smell…

"Stop pushing me away."

My pulse pounds beneath his grip on my shirt as his dark chuckle drifts across my ear. "Stop fighting this pull between us."

"Promise me that you didn't kill her, Cruz. It'll break your dad." My voice crackles on the last note, and he eases back to look me in the eye as though he wants to taste the hurt in my voice. "Promise me."

Instead of replying, he shoves me back onto the podium, then kneels over my body as the back of my head smacks against the hard surface.

"Fuck." I wince, clasping my throbbing skull, but he hauls me up by my shirt and sinks his teeth into my bottom lip, breaking the skin. He kisses me like he wants to reach into my chest and pull my thrashing heart from its cavity. I've never been feasted on like this until him. His tongue massages mine in a slow, unhurried kiss as my sweaty hands dig into his wrist, his T-shirt—anywhere I can reach.

He drops me just as fast and I fall back against the hard surface while he claws at my belt, ripping my pants open. His enticing lips envelop my dick, and all my doubts and fear drift away. He sucks me deep and I lift my aching head, caught in his nefarious eyes. Fuck me… My hips buck, and I choke on a groan while he stares up at me from beneath his dark lashes.

"Someone could walk in," I remind him in a breathy voice I barely recognize.

"Then you better hurry up and stuff my mouth full of cum, Professor." He takes all of me again, relaxing his throat around my crown and sinking down farther. His head bobs faster and faster. I know I won't last long when he sucks the soul from my body.

My head falls back, and I give in. What's the point of fighting the inevitable? My dick pulses as he drools all over my veiny shaft. It's sloppy, wet, and so erotic.

"Cruz," I groan, pulling my knees up and fisting his hair with both hands. Shuddering, I feel his head bob beneath my fingers, his appreciative moan rumbling like the brewing war inside me. The vibration around my length pushes me over the edge, and I clamp my hand over my mouth when a wave of pleasure ignites my core.

My wet dick slips from Cruz's mouth and he crawls up my body, then slaps my hand away before grabbing my chin and forcing my mouth into an ‘O' with his fierce grip. His straining muscles ripple beneath my fingers as he spits the cum into my mouth and slams his hand over my lips. My eyes widen. What the hell? His gaze is so primal that a shiver skitters down my back.

"Don't ever question me again, Marshall," he drawls, hovering over me. "Don't question the lengths I'll go to for you." He lets go of me and crushes his lips to mine.

His tongue invades my mouth, and my release smears our chins as he pins me to the floor by my throat and proceeds to suck on my tongue and lick my cum. I kiss him back with equal fervor, clawing at his back and tight ass inside those jeans. I'll regret it later when reality crashes back down like a stack of cards, but for now, I'm lost in him.

I've known Cruz since he was a kid. I watched him grow up. He would never be capable of something so horrific, right? His father raised him to be a good kid.

When his hips rock against mine, chipping away at my self-control like waves against a cliff, a voice whispers otherwise in my head.

He did it.

He butchered her.

Another wave slams against my shore, and that soft whisper washes back out to sea while I float, helplessly lost in his kiss and wandering hands.

C ruz is everywhere I turn, tracking me with his dark eyes. A week has passed since he blew me in the empty auditorium. I've tried to avoid him since, but he makes it impossible when he enters my bedroom at night, cloaked in sin and shadows. He wakes me up with his big palm over my mouth, his cock grinding against my own until my eyes roll back and muffled groans disturb our heaving breaths. The first few nights after my colleague's murder, I woke up with my wrists tied to the bedpost. I couldn't have fought him if I wanted to.

"Another round, please." Karl slams some cash down on the counter. His smile is too wide when he jostles my shoulder. "You look terrible. Not sleeping well?"

Guilt eats me up from the inside. I feel terrible for fucking my best friend's son.

Another beer is placed in front of me, and I stare at the fizzy bubbles while Karl downs his. This thing between Cruz and I can't continue. I need to end it.

But how? I have zero self-control when he's nearby, and one heated look is all it takes to burn my resolve to ashes. I'm done for. My feelings are a mystery to me. Common sense flies out the window whenever he puts his hands and lips on me, and a part of me wonders if it's only this heady because it's forbidden. I've not had a lot of excitement in my life.

Cruz is an enigma—a forbidden temptation. He is…dangerous.

I peer sideways at Karl, noting their similarities. They have the same enticing dimple, visible when Karl smirks or laughs.

Disturbed, I look away and rub my eyes vigorously. This is so messed up. I'm a middle-aged man, for fuck's sake. I shouldn't involve myself with twenty-year-olds.

"Cruz met someone," Karl says as he places the beer glass back down, and I grow cold.

"He met someone?"

Karl nods, an indulgent smile spreading across his lips. "He sneaks out at night." Shrugging his shoulders, he continues. "Thinks his mom and I don't notice, but we're not blind."

My throat jumps around a lump, and I take a large sip of beer to steady my nerves, which does nothing to calm me but buys me time. The glass trembles in my grip as I place it back down.

"He's more engaged."

"Yeah?" I attempt a shaky smile.

"He smiles more."

"That's a good thing."

"I can't wait to meet her," he says and sips his beer.

Jiggling my knee, I try to tame the guilt festering inside me, but it twists my guts. I scoot off the chair and toss my thumb over my shoulder. "I need to take a piss."

I don't.

What I need is fresh air.

Escaping through a fire door, I fish a packet of cigarettes and matchsticks from my pocket. Lighting one up, my fingers tremble as I toss the burning stick to the ground. It's been years since I quit smoking, but I'm on edge these days and need something to tame these runaway emotions.

Smoke pours from my lips, and my muscles soon relax. Fuck, I need this moment alone to gather my thoughts. Karl makes it hard to think when he looks so much like his son. Leaning back against the brick wall, I stare up at the starlit sky. There's not a cloud in sight.

I'm almost down to the filter when I become aware of a presence. Cruz enters the orange glow of the only streetlight out here amongst the reeking trash cans and steaming sewers, his face shadowed by the hood that's pulled low over his brow. Loose rocks crunch beneath his Doc Martens as he walks closer, kicking an empty can out of the way. The loud rattle spikes my heart rate, and I take another deep drag of the cigarette to calm my nerves. I'm not surprised that he's here. Cruz is everywhere.

"That's a nasty habit." His smoky voice calls to the part of me that craves destruction.

"Are you stalking me?" I flick the cigarette to the ground.

"What gave you that idea?" he questions, approaching me in a wide arc, which makes me feel hunted as he skirts the outside of the streetlight. His face is in darkness, adding an aura of mystique to the shadows that call him their master, and my mouth goes dry when a hint of a fang gleams in the darkness.

"You're everywhere, Cruz."

He hums, his boots crushing the debris and cigarette butts on the ground.

"You break into my house at night."

"I can still taste you on my lips now."

My dick jumps in my jeans, and I shrink back against the wall when he steps into the light again. Fuck me… He embodies the night, seeming taller and larger than his six-foot-three frame. He's a sharp weapon.

Somewhere in the distance, police sirens disturb the silence.

"Why are you here?"

Instead of answering, he walks up to me and fishes my packet of cigarettes out of my pocket. He smirks around the filter as he lights one up. I should snatch it from him, but I'm lost for words. Something sinister and delicious swirls in his eyes as he locks them on mine. He takes a deep drag and rests his hand on the brick wall behind me, then slowly blows the smoke at my face. His smirk returns and he tilts his head sideways. "What's the matter, Marshall? You look flustered."

"Your dad is inside," I point out. Peering around us to ensure we're alone, my breath catches in my throat when he digs his fingers into my jaw.

"Eyes on me… Always on me." The orange sparks in the dark when he fills his lungs with more toxic chemicals, and cigarette smoke drifts over my face before he crushes the butt beneath his boot.

I steel myself, catching him by surprise when his eyes are on the ground instead of me. "I need you to leave me alone, Cruz."

A warm summer breeze caresses my clammy skin while he slowly lifts his gaze—so slowly that my heart thuds harder.

"This thing… It's wrong, Cruz."

He quirks his eyebrow, and even that small movement is measured. His face remains a blank mask that gives nothing away except for a clench of his jaw.

I carry on while I feel brave enough to do the right thing. "If you care about me at all, Cruz, stay away. Respect this one wish. Can you do that?"

Straightening up to his full height, he stays silent, rhythmically tapping his finger and thumb together. This side of Cruz frightens me—the complete control of his emotions except for that one tiny crack in his fa?ade.

When he continues staring at me silently, I escape past him.

For once, he doesn't follow me or force me to submit in the late-night hours.

One night turns into more, but I still can't sleep, tossing and turning, expecting him to tie me up and wring pleasure from my body.

He doesn't.

Relief wars with disappointment.

Could it be that easy? All I had to do was ask? Of course not. Nothing in life is ever that easy, and a villainous boy like Cruz doesn't take no for an answer. He studies the pieces on the playing board, calculates his next move, and then strikes.