Troublemaker Meets The Four Hottie Professors

Cheska

The bass from the speakers thumps against my ribcage, making the world tilt just a little more than it already is. I press my palms to my temples. My head is heavy, and the room is starting to spin in slow, blurry circles.

The rest of the cheer squad is acting like a pack of animals. They are screaming, jumping, and slapping my arms every time the beer bottle spins on the sticky table and points its jagged neck right at me. Again.

"Another one!" Jules yells, her face flushed with cheap vodka and mischief. "Truth or dare, Cheska?"

"Truth," I mutter, trying to keep my balance while sitting perfectly still. "I'm done with the dares."

Jules leans in, a wicked glint in her eyes. "No way. You've done ten truths tonight. You're taking the dare, or you're buying the next three rounds."

I groan, looking at my empty wallet. "Fine. What is it?"

Jules doesn't hesitate. She points a manicured finger toward the VIP section, away from the neon strobe lights. "See that guy? The one sitting alone,e like he owns the place? Go over there. Kiss him. And then tell him he's a terrible kisser."

My jaw drops. I look at the man. He is sitting in the shadows, draped in an expensive black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks dangerous. He looks like he's in a completely different world than this sweaty, loud club.

"No," I say, but my friends are already grabbing my arms. They pull me up, laughing and shoving me toward the VIP line. "Guys, stop! I can't do that!"

"Go on, Cheska! Don't be a coward!"

The alcohol in my blood gives me a sudden, stupid surge of confidence. I shake them off and straighten my skirt. I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath.

"Watch me," I hiss.

I walk toward him. Every step feels like I'm moving through honey. The closer I get, the more the air seems to change. It gets colder, quieter, and much more intense.

He's staring at the dance floor, but he isn't really seeing it. He looks like he's haunted by something. He looks broken.

"Hey," I say, stopping right in front of him.

He looks up. His eyes are hazel, sharp, and so intense I almost forget how to breathe. He doesn't say a word. He just looks at me like I'm an interesting puzzle he doesn't feel like solving.

"Are you alone?" I ask. My voice is breathy. "Are you single?"

He takes a slow sip of his drink, his throat moving as he swallows. "I suppose I am," he says. His voice is deep. It's a low growl that vibrates in the air between us.

I don't give myself time to think. If I think, I'll run. I step into his space, hiking my knees up onto his booth and sliding onto his lap.

He freezes. I can feel the hard muscle of