It was almost as if an electric current had shot between them when she spat her words at him. Goddamn her heavy breaths and her venomous tone, which made parts of him twitch and pulse—parts that had been dormant for a long time, parts that made him want to do wild and wicked things to her all over his desk until she knew how he expected to be treated. He was seething at himself for thinking those things about a woman he’d met for all of fifty-five minutes.
Yeah, she was hot; any red-blooded male could see that, with her auburn Dana fucking Scully hair, full pink lips, voluptuous ass, and killer rack. Christ, her fire was sexy as hell. The desire and hunger which slammed into him had been so unexpected, it had caught him off guard, and in a place like Kill, that was some dangerous shit.
Miss Lane was a sanctimonious nobody who needed to learn fast that he would not tolerate her speaking and acting so … unafraid of him.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, remembering the look on her face when she hissed at him. There was not an inkling of fear or a spark of anything that would suggest he intimidated her. She’d burned with energy so fierce he could taste it in the air between them. He’d even done what she’d asked from him and written the one word he lived by every day.
Not that she’d understand, let alone have experience of it in her pretty, perfect little existence.
The other thing that had irritated him was the fact that the other guys in the class seemed to like her—even Riley, who’d laughed while Carter had fumed and spat out his incredulity during a cigarette before lunch. Carter couldn’t deny he’d been unprepared for the protective tone in Riley’s voice and the hint of warning in his eye.
“You expect me to respect some broad who was probably born with a silver spoon in her fucking mouth and hasn’t had to want for anything?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Riley had answered with a nonchalant shrug.
Carter had snorted and shaken his head. There was no way.
“So,” Riley had said, breaking the silence. “She’s hot, right?”
Carter couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted. “Oh yeah.”
Riley had slapped his back hard enough to make him flinch. “That’s one for the spank bank, my good man,” he’d offered with a wink.
*
The following morning, after several cups of coffee, Kat began setting up her classroom. After a relatively good night’s sleep, she’d started seeing the situation a little more objectively. She’d surmised that Carter was in a highly tense and emotional environment, and her demanding him to do what she wanted was not going to make him any less uncooperative. It was going to be hard as hell, but she’d decided she was at least going to try. She glanced at his empty seat, imagining his slouch and his penetrating stare. Lord. This was going to be harder than she thought.
What she read in his file hadn’t been a surprise. Carter was the poster boy for rebellious deviants. Sentenced to thirty-six months for cocaine possession in the second degree nineteen months previous, Carter, since the age of fifteen, had been in detention centers or incarceration of some description at least six months out of every twelve.
He’d dropped out of school at seventeen, where his GPA had been above average. He’d excelled in sports and English and listed Salinger, Steinbeck, and Selby Jr. as his favorite writers. It was clear that he was intelligent, a fact that he’d made apparent with his comments about her class and how “basic” he found the work. Kat bristled at the memory.
She knew she could have him removed from her classroom to make a point that she was in charge. But then he would have won. Giving up and running away, or ignoring the issue, would not do for Kat Lane. She would never be forced to run away from anything ever again. He would not defeat her, and it vexed her that he’d even tried.
Because of her eagerness to get the morning out of the way as fast as humanly possible, she was pacing the front of the room when the inmates entered, led by Jason, who threw a large smile in her direction. Riley bowed and followed him single file. She turned from laughing at Riley and her breath caught. Her heart started to stutter when Carter strode into the room, ignoring Kat and pushing Corey out of the way to get to his seat.
The irrational irritation and heat she’d apparently quelled with her hypothesizing and promise to try reared instantly when their eyes locked for a split second.
Clearing her throat, Kat made her way to her desk. “I’m glad we’re all here. Today we’re going to start our poetry study, which we will do for the next week before we start our Shakespeare play.”
Kat rested her backside against her desk, her skin tingling. She’d seen Carter’s reaction to the poem she’d distributed, and had managed to stay quiet by biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. She focused on getting her words out and not on the desire she had to pull a face, stick her tongue out, or perform some other equally inappropriate gesture.
Jesus—mature, much?
She took a deep breath. “I’d like to start by asking what you all know about poetry.”