Genre: Erotic May/December Romance Heat Level: 4 Word Count: 69, 000 ISBN: 978-0-3695-1499-8 Editor: Jessica Leonie Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Submission Deadline by Elle Prince

Heat Level 4
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Ruby McAllister came to Oxford to finish her PhD—not to fall in love.

But when her new syntax professor, the brilliant and untouchable Dr William Langford, turns out to be the mysterious man who saved her life months earlier, her carefully laid plans go up in smoke.

Their chemistry is immediate and impossible to ignore. Every stolen glance, every burning encounter pulls them closer to a line neither can afford to cross.

But desire doesn’t ask permission—it only demands surrender.

From hushed Oxford offices to moonlit Paris streets, their connection deepens in moments meant to be forgotten.

With careers, reputations, and futures on the line, Ruby and William must decide how much they’re willing to sacrifice for each other. Because some loves are forbidden by rules… yet destined to be.

Be Warned: spanking, DDLG

Excerpt:

I should’ve taken the cab with Avi and that Calvin Klein model he had picked up. Or even Julie and Dan, her walking red flag of a boyfriend who’d rather drink acid than say thank you to a waiter.

But I didn’t want to be the girl who couldn’t handle her birthday. I told them I was fine, that I’d already called a taxi, that I needed a moment of fresh air anyway. I didn’t need a chaperone.

I just turned twenty-six, after all. Ruby McAllister is not the type of woman who cannot walk three hundred meters down a quiet street.

Now, standing outside The Fever nightclub, I’m starting to question that logic. There’s a thin mist hanging in the air, softening the harsh outlines of buildings and streetlamps. Everything stinks of beer, cigarettes, and wet stone. Not my favorite combination.

I lean against the wall of the club, cardigan tightly wrapped around me as I check my phone again. It says the taxi is three minutes away.

Then it refreshes and says ten. Brilliant.

I glance at the closed door behind me. I’m all alone. Yes, I told my friends I was fine. And I was.

Until I wasn’t.

I hear footsteps behind me. At first, they’re slow, unhurried. I assume it’s another student making their way home. But something about the rhythm sets me on edge. I turn my head slightly.

The man is maybe in his thirties, disheveled, smelling like human waste mixed with cheap booze. He stumbles as he walks, then straightens when he sees me watching him. The look in his eyes makes my stomach turn.

He’s watching me too closely.

“Hello there, luv.” He flashes me a smile that sends shivers down my spine. This won’t end well. At all. I look away, ignoring his advance, but this only fuels his confidence for some reason.

“A nice night we havin’, innit?”

He keeps grinning and moving closer.

Why is he grinning like that? Oh, how tempting it is to smash his head into the pavement. Of course, I may as well sign my death sentence. Tall I may be, yes, but thin as well, and the word strong isn’t an adjective anyone’s ever used to describe me.

“You lost, luv?” he slurs.

I shake my head in response. “Just waiting for my taxi.”

He takes a step closer. “No need to stand here freezing. Come walk with me.”

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

Another step. “You’re not really going to make me ask again, are you?”

Something is glinting in his hand. I don’t know if it’s a knife or if I’m imagining it, but I go cold all over.

“Let’s take a little walk,” he says, his voice lower. “I’ll keep you company.”

He lifts his hand a bit higher, giving me a clear view of the pocketknife he’s holding. I open my mouth to scream, to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

Suddenly, another pair of footsteps echoes through the night, and in a split second, I hear a chilling, deep voice. The newcomer sounds deadly calm as he approaches my attacker.

“Step away from her.”

The man in front of me turns, already scowling. “Mind your—”

The stranger, lean and dressed entirely in black, is on him in a blink. His hand shoots out and clamps around the man’s wrist. There’s a snap of motion—the blade clatters to the ground.

“I said, Stay. Away. From. Her.” He shoves the man back effortlessly.

I stumble, and then I’m behind him—shielded completely. My hands tremble as I watch the attacker curse and stagger away, disappearing down the alley without a second glance.

My knees threaten to give out as the adrenaline drains from my body all at once. I don’t even realise I’ve backed into the brick wall behind me until my palms scrape against it.

“Are you all right?” he asks gently.

I nod. Then shake my head. I am not all right. Not even close. I could have been assaulted or worse, murdered.

He watches me with a stillness, running his hand over his hair. “You shouldn’t be out alone this late.”

He's very tall—taller than I realised before. His sleeves are still rolled to the elbow, exposing long, pale forearms. The skin there is almost unnaturally fair, hollowed out by the streetlight. His hair, thick and dark, falls just past his ears in loose, uneven strands. His nose is slightly hooked, but it only gives him character.

It’s his eyes that hold me still. They’re black, with barely any softness to them.

What I feel, looking into those depths, I can’t explain.

As if I had known this man my entire life.

I don’t know what snaps in me—but the next second, I move without thinking.

My arms go around his waist before my mind catches up. I bury my face in his chest, and a sound breaks loose from me, a dry, stunned sob shaking my whole body.

I’m not sure how long I stay like this. Seconds? A full minute? My hands fist into the fabric of his coat, and he doesn’t push me away. Slowly, one of his arms wraps around my back, the other resting on my shoulder.

He’s holding me like I might break if he touches me wrong—and also like he has no idea what he is supposed to do with a very tipsy, traumatized girl clinging onto him for dear life.

“It's over,” he says, finally. Just two words. Simple, but somehow firm enough to hold me upright.

Eventually, I pull back, wiping my face with the sleeve of my coat in embarrassment. I feel my smudged mascara and eyeliner blurring my vision. Damn, it stings.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

But he’s already stepped back, giving me space, as if nothing happened.

The taxi’s headlights cut across the pavement as it pulls up to the curb.

“Thank you,” I murmur, climbing into the car’s backseat. After closing the door behind me, I glance once over my shoulder.

He’s already walking away, vanishing into the dark like he was never there at all.

I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in love at first sight. Hell, I’m not even sure I believe in love at all. But I know this:

If I see him again, I’ll follow that pull wherever it leads.

 

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