by Ella Fields
He chuckled, tilting my chin up to stare into my eyes. “Fuck work. We could live off the grid, or hey, I have a chunk of savings left. Let’s take a year off and travel. Live like nomads.”
“Tempting.”
“Yeah?” His voice lowered as his lips did, hovering over mine. “The only necessities we’d have to worry about would be the primal need to fuck.” His lips pressed into mine. “All day.” Another kiss. “Every.” And one last lingering one. “Day.”
Seconds later, he’d put a condom on, and I was against the wall. My dress was around my waist, one of my shoes kicked to the tiled floor as he pushed my panties aside and invaded. One glorious inch at a time.
“Oh god,” I hissed through my teeth.
Miles’s hands clenched around my thighs, fingertips bruising. “That’s it, baby. Take my cock.”
His breath fanned hot over my mouth as he slammed into me. Slow at first, then unrestrained when he heard those telltale cries whimper past my lips.
“I’m …”
“Fuck yes, you are.”
I let go, my head rolling into the wall as his teeth dragged from my chin down my neck, stopping at my pulse. “I want another one before I explode.”
“No,” I croaked, unable to control my voice or my breathing as waves of bliss assaulted me. “No more.” I’d be a gooey mess all day.
He grumbled what sounded like, “Fine,” then sank deep, grinding as he worked himself in and out of me. “God damn, nothing has ever felt this good.”
I smiled, stars blinking into my blurry vision. Mesmerized, I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he grew closer. I still pinched myself at times, amazed by the fact this rugged, warm, giant man wanted me. That I could make him curse like a drunken sailor when he came, latching onto me for dear life.
His forehead fell against the wall next to my head, and I listened as his rough breathing started to slow.
“I love you, Jem.” His head dropped to kiss the skin between my shoulder and neck. “So fucking much.”
He lowered me to the ground, and I frowned as he stepped back while I put my shoe back on. “Then why are we still using condoms?” I fluffed my hair as he knotted the condom and tossed it into the small trash can beside the vanity. “You know I’m on the pill now.”
He tensed, then lifted his hands to run them through his tousled hair before meeting my eyes with stormy ones. A smile was quick to make them gleam.
Annoyed at the ease he could rid my worries with just a fucking look, I righted my panties before inspecting my reflection in the mirror.
Without touching, he edged in behind me. I could feel him studying me and cursed my liquefied limbs for being too relaxed to walk away.
“I’ve never gone bareback before,” he finally said.
“Never?” I asked, lifting my eyes to meet his in the mirror.
His hands settled on my hips, then righted my dress. “Never ever.”
Knowing that pensive look, I dropped my eyes to the sink, giving him time to conjure his thoughts into words.
“In high school, there was this wild party in senior year.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I was so drunk, and I banged this chick.” Noticing my scowl, he squeezed my hips. “I didn’t remember much of that night or any of the nights I spent drinking in my youth. But a couple of months later, said chick tells me she’s pregnant and the baby’s mine.”
My mouth fell open, and I turned to stare up at him. The questions sailing through my mind evident in my eyes.
He brushed a finger over the bridge of my nose. “I wasn’t her baby’s daddy; some other prick was. But I believed it for a month and even went to a damn ultrasound with her. Until one of her friends eventually told me the truth.”
“Shit, Miles.”
He shrugged. “Guess the guy who knocked her up was more of a screw-up than I was.”
“You’re not a screw-up.”
His lips twisted. “Jem, I mow lawns for a living.”
I laughed with disbelief. “But it’s your own business, and look around …” I swung an arm around the bathroom. “It’s enabled you to buy your own beautiful house.”
Nodding, he grabbed my hand, placing a kiss on it. “Our house. Anyway, when I confronted her about it, she said she was sorry, and that she remembered I’d worn a condom.” He chuckled. “No matter how plastered I was, I always remembered the condom, which was why I was shocked as shit when I thought I’d knocked someone up.”
“Condoms break.”
“They do.” He shrugged. “But I guess I’m a lucky bastard because that’s never happened to me.”
“I love you,” I said after a long minute had passed. “But I really need to go.”
After placing a kiss on my forehead, he released me, and I left the bathroom to grab my bag and keys.
I was almost out the front door when he called out, “Babe?”
I spun around, and he smiled as he leaned against the wall at the other end of the hallway. “I want that. With you. I just need time to … wrap my head around it for a bit.”
I laughed, waving at him before shutting the door on his grinning face.
Lilyglade Prep looked like an old museum.
Maybe it was. I hadn’t ever bothered to research much of its history.
The long structure stood on almost two acres, ivy crawling over the discolored sandstone exterior and trailing beneath the arched windows. The lawns and rose gardens manicured to perfection, curtesy of Miles, who worked there two mornings a week.
I parked in the far end of the lot reserved for teachers and quickly flipped my visor down to check my appearance, hoping I didn’t look nearly as disheveled as I felt.
After smoothing some hair back, I grabbed my bag and climbed out of my Corolla.
The teachers’ lounge was empty, and I tucked my bag away, grabbing the planner I’d prepped for this week before hightailing it down the hall and up the first flight of marble stairs to the second floor.
I had fifteen minutes before class began and used it to sharpen pencils, make copies of today’s spelling test, and straighten tables and chairs. We had cleaners that came in twice a week, but the parents still held us accountable for anything they could.
Not today, I thought as I returned to the teachers’ lounge to make a cup of tea as the second bell rang, signaling the children to start making their way to their classrooms.
We managed to make it to lunch before any altercations happened, and Jerimiah, a boy with a smile that’d warm the coldest hearts, was the culprit once again.
“What happened?” I asked Lou Lou.
She sniffed, spine straight and shoulders back as she stared at Jerimiah with clear distaste. “He’s a bully; that’s what happened.”
Lou Lou wasn’t overly chatty and often only played with Rosie. But when she opened up, she just about blew me over with her vocabulary, and that trace of importance to her innocent eyes. I wasn’t sure if she was just spoiled like many of the other kids at this school, or if she wasn’t like them at all.
The latter tugged at me.
“She said my hair smells like wet dog,” Jerimiah sputtered, pointing an accusing finger at Lou Lou.
I lowered to their eye level, my gaze drifting from the calm and collected six-year-old girl to the flushed faced, fidgeting, and close to tears boy. “Lou Lou, why would you say that?”
She looked taken aback for a second before saying, “Because it does.”
I tried to contain my snort by pinching my lips together. If I had a dollar for all the times I’d wanted to laugh at the wrong moments since starting this job, I would’ve had enough money to buy myself a better ride.
“Okay.” I stood when they just stared at me. “If there’s nothing else to add, we’ll have to leave a red circle on your behavior card for saying mean things, Lou Lou.”
Her eyes bulged. “What?” She shook her head, her ringlets dancing. “But he’s always saying stuff to me. Why can’t I defend myself?”
Jer
imiah frowned and got busy staring at the table next to his. “Jerimiah.”
He looked back at me, shrugging. “I didn’t do nothing, not this time.”
“You didn’t do anything,” I corrected. With a sigh, I told them to return to their seats to finish up their math worksheets.
When the dismissal bell rang, I did my best to stop them from stampeding out the door, but ended up jamming my back into the frame, making me wince.
“Are you okay, Miss Clayton?” Lou Lou had stopped outside the door, her rosy cheeks pinching as she studied me.
“Fine,” I told her. “You should hurry along. You don’t want to miss your bus.”
“I don’t catch the bus,” she said. “My dad meets me out front, but I forgot my behavior card.”
I winced again for different reasons. There was something to be said about being put in your place by a six-year-old. “Right, I’ll grab it.”
She took it from me a minute later and deposited it into her bag as I watched and pondered what to say. “Lou Lou, I’m sorry. You know we have zero tolerance—”
A gentle yet deep baritone interrupted. “Lou Lou.”
In the time I’d been teaching at Lilyglade, I’d never once met her dad. As a few others had done, he’d turned down the opportunity for a parent-teacher conference before Christmas. I hadn’t thought anything of it given how bright Lou Lou was.
Yet now, staring at the suited man who was slow to approach as he removed a feathered fedora from his head, I was glad for different reasons.
Talk about walking intimidation.
He towered over six feet. Lean, long limbs moved as though he had the grace of a leopard beneath the luxurious fabric that enveloped them. Hair so dark, it made you look directly to his cobalt eyes in hopes of a reprieve. A reprieve that stole the breath from your lungs and forced it back down your windpipe with savage intensity, for they were the coldest blue I’d ever encountered.
“Ready? You didn’t come out with the rest of your class.”
“I forgot something,” Lou Lou mumbled, which made both her dad and me frown as she was not one to mumble.
Cold eyes shot to me. “I see.”
My smile wobbled with nerves as I reached over and offered my hand. “You must be Lou Lou’s dad. I’m Miss Clayton, her teacher.”
“I know,” he said, eyes steadfast on mine, unblinking, before he dropped them to my hand.
When it trembled, I cleared my throat and pulled my hand back. “Okay, well, have a nice afternoon.”
Slightly shaken and slightly embarrassed, I didn’t wait for them to walk away before I retreated into my classroom.
“Now, remember, you don’t catch flies with …”
“Cookie jars!” the kids hollered, then filed out the door.
Laughing, I put the book we’d been dissecting that week back on the stand and watched them go, tucking in chairs and collecting sweaters once the door had shut.
I was bent over, picking up a rogue pencil, when a sharp knock had me straightening so fast, I felt something pop in my back. “God, I need to start working out.”
Framed in the small oblong window of the door was a black covered shoulder and arm, and a tan profile. My heart rate stalled momentarily.
Lou Lou’s dad walked in as soon as the door opened, and he instructed her to wait in the hall. I smiled at her, hoping it would ease the worry marring her tiny brows, then shut the door.
“Mr. Verrone, how can I—”
“It’s Dr. Verrone. And there seems to be a problem with Lou’s behavior card.”
I blinked, then remembered yesterday. The incident with Jerimiah. I folded my hands together, straightened my shoulders, and calmly explained what’d happened.
“The child is a nuisance,” he said.
For a moment, I thought he was referring to his daughter, then I realized that wasn’t so. “Well …” I hemmed.
“No false pretenses. You know I’m right. I’ve watched him skip in and out of this school every morning and afternoon since Lou Lou told me about her first run-in with him. I can peg them when I see them.”
A bit shocked, a small, incredulous laugh slipped free. “He’s not so bad.” He could be trouble, yes, but even then, he was a beautiful boy. “He’s just in need of direction, not harsh discipline.”
“I disagree.”
My brows nearly met my hairline.
He waved a hand dismissively, then leaned against my desk with a sigh. “But I suppose that’s too much to ask from schools nowadays.”
“Nowadays?” I questioned before I could think better of it.
He nodded, and I realized then that I still didn’t know his name. I was sure I’d seen it in records and could look it up, but I thought it’d be better to ask. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.” Blue eyes collided with mine, making something skitter down my spine before locking into place. Something was definitely wrong with my back. “It’s Thomas.”
Huh. “Well, I’ll be sure to keep a close eye on things with Jerimiah, as always, Thomas.”
He wasn’t looking at me anymore, well, not exactly. His gaze had dropped to my cream-colored ballet flats that had tiny satin bows on the toes. “How old are you?”
I coughed. “I’m sorry, what?”
His lip quirked, those glowing eyes glinting as they traveled over my legs and stopped at my chest. “You heard me.” Those eyes lifted, crystal blue grabbing mine and refusing to let them look elsewhere. And I really needed to look elsewhere. He hummed. “You’re just shocked, but that’s okay. I’ll wait.”
A twitch pinched my stomach as he held my eyes prisoner. “Uh …” I laughed, my head shaking as I finally looked away and pretended to get lost in some pencils in a jar at the craft station. “I don’t know if that’s exactly, um, appropriate?”
A question? Really? I couldn’t even muster the steel to end a sentence properly.
Dark and vibrating, the timbre of his voice reached my ears as his gaze singed my back. “Do I make you nervous?”
I scoffed, turning and crossing my arms over my chest. “This is kind of”—I threw my arms out, my finger gesturing between us—“weird. Yeah, let’s start again. You’re Thomas, Lou Lou’s dad, and …”
“And you’re Jemima, Little Dove, her first-grade teacher.”
Blinking again, I asked, “How do you know that?”
A shoulder tilted, barely perceptible, but I saw it. “You must’ve mentioned it around Lou Lou.”
“Right.”
The clock behind his head ticked.
Once, twice, three, then four times.
“Are you going to tell me?”
I frowned. This had to be the most awkward encounter I’d ever experienced in my life. “My age?” I sucked my lip into my mouth, pondering the odd request. “Is it because of the shoes?”
I met his gaze as his lips twitched. “A little, yes. But I’m mostly just curious.”
“Why?”
Another almost smirk. “Why indeed.”
“Fine. I’m twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three,” I repeated slowly and rocked back on my heels.
When I glanced over at the door, I saw Lou Lou had her head tilted up to the window, brown ringlets sprinkling over her shoulder. Painting on a smile, I held up a finger, indicating we’d only be a minute, then looked back at Thomas. “So am I not going to be treated to the same courtesy?”
His eyes widened, then he chuckled, a sound so rough and abrasive it was clear he didn’t do it very often. His thumb glided over his bottom lip. “That wouldn’t exactly be appropriate, now would it, Miss Clayton?” A heavy pause filled the room as he stood and then adjusted his jacket, eyes boring into mine. “Until next time, Little Dove.”
Outside, he took Lou Lou’s hand, and she shot me a small wave as they disappeared down the hall.
What in the name of strange?
Miles walked in the door just after seven.
I watched from my perch on the couch where I was painting my toenails a lime green as he scarfed down the steak and vegetables I’d prepared earlier.
“Not even going to sit down?”
“Can’t talk,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “Too hungry.”
I snorted, my smile softening as I took in his chaotic appearance. His shirt was sweat stained and his hair damp with the day’s work, and I had no doubt that dirt sat beneath his fingernails.
“So something weird happened today.” I capped the polish and wiggled my toes.
“Yeah?” He lifted his plate, licking, actually licking, the gravy from it.
I laughed, spinning the ring on my finger absentmindedly. “Could you quit and listen to me?”
“Listening,” he said, moving to rinse the plate.
I waited until he’d tucked it into the dishwasher and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before saying, “I met this dad. One of my kids, Lou Lou …”
Miles smirked and leaned against the doorway to the living room. “I love it when you call them your kids.”
“They spend a lot of time with me, so they’re not just any kids,” I defended.
He waved a hand. “I know, and I love you.” Dark eyes glued themselves to mine as he waited for those words to penetrate and hit their mark. They did, each and every time.
“Love you too.” I sighed, straightening my legs, my toes scrunching in protest over the cold tiles. We’d yet to buy some rugs, as well as many other items, for the house. “Anyway, he came in to speak to me about Lou Lou’s behavior card, which is understandable seeing as she’s pretty much perfect.”
“No one’s perfect.”
“Wait until you meet this girl,” I said, unable to stop from smiling as I conjured Lou Lou’s sweet face to the forefront of my mind. “I’m giving her work from the second grade most weeks.”
Miles shifted, eyes shooting to the ground. “So her dad?”
“Right, yeah.” I stood, stretching my arms above my head as I yawned. “Funny guy, in a way that’s not really funny at all.”
Miles’s brows furrowed. “How so?”