by London Hale
“Thank you, Dean.” Elliott took a seat, his body language proclaiming nothing but calm, except for the tiny tick of his jaw. Something he did only when he was frustrated or agitated. “Charles. Pleasure to see you again.”
My father’s grip intensified as he scoffed, his fingers digging into my shoulder. “I’d hardly consider these circumstances a pleasure, Dean Goodridge.”
“Gentlemen,” Dean Mackelroy broke in, “if you don’t mind, let’s get started with the reason we’re all here.” She folded her hands together and placed them on her desk as she addressed Elliott. “I called you here because Trustee Monroe has concerns regarding your relationship with his daughter, Samantha, who I’m sure you’re aware is a Temperance Falls College student.”
Elliott leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed, hand resting on his ankle. So confident. “I don’t believe there’s anything to be concerned about, Dean Mackelroy.”
I stiffened under my dad’s unrelenting hand, a thousand thoughts running through my mind, every one of them churning my stomach. I’d spent the past thirty minutes refusing to say anything one way or another about our relationship. Thus far, neither the dean nor my father had been able to produce hard proof that Elliott and I were in a relationship. Because of that, I hadn’t wanted to say anything that would make this worse for Elliott, wanting to spare him as much as possible. Wanting to salvage his career, with any means necessary.
I’d thought of a dozen different comebacks Elliott might’ve had once they asked him the same questions they’d been asking me, justifying our relationship one way or another so that he was able to save his career. But I’d never thought he might just…dismiss it entirely. Deny that anything at all was happening between us. Or worse, brush it aside as if what we had together was inconsequential.
Had I read the signs wrong between us? Misconstrued the looks he’d given me, the loving touches? Had our relationship meant more to me than it had to him?
“No?” Dean Mackelroy asked, eyebrow raised. “So you deny the accusations of Trustee Monroe that you’re involved in an inappropriate relationship with Ms. Monroe?”
I waited, breath held, for his answer. Desperately wanting to look at him, while at the same time wanting to disappear.
“Yes, I deny those accusations.”
My breath left me in a whoosh, my heart thumping so hard against my chest I was surprised no one else could hear it.
That was it. Elliott denied anything having gone on between us, and I’d stayed silent. With no hard proof, and no cooperation on our part, there wasn’t a whole lot the school could do. Unless, somehow, there was a video floating around of us together, I didn’t see how this would result in any consequences for either of us. That should’ve made me happy, relieved even.
So then why did it feel like Elliott had pulled my heart from my chest and stomped on it when he’d dismissed everything between us with a single sentence?
My father dropped his arm from around my shoulders, pointing an accusing finger at Elliott. “But someone saw—”
Elliott held up his hand, stopping my father’s rant. “I’m not done. Samantha and I are in a relationship, yes. But it’s not in any way inappropriate, in my opinion.”
My mouth fell open as I stared at him, catching his eye when he looked over at me, a small smile playing on his lips. That look, so serene and…happy. As if he hadn’t just admitted to sleeping with a student. As if he hadn’t just damned his career because he apparently didn’t care who knew we were together. Because he…wanted everyone to know?
“How can you say that?” my dad yelled, his face flushed with anger. “You’re her teacher!”
Elliott tore his eyes away from me to look at my father, giving a brief shake of his head. “Technically, no. I’m not. I’m the dean of students, though I haven’t actually stepped into the role in regards to the student population yet due to the financial fraud of my predecessor. I’ve had no interactions with Samantha in a professional capacity.”
“But—but—you were talking about the sailing program at the Lights Festival!”
“Actually, Charles, we were not. Samantha and I spent our time alone discussing the challenges being in a personal relationship could bring. I apologize for not being truthful, but at the time, we’d only just moved on from flirting to making plans to see each other officially and hadn’t known how my professional life and her student life overlapped.”
I could feel the flush creeping up my chest to my neck before settling in my cheeks, thoughts of exactly what we’d done the evening of the Lights Festival bombarding me. While, technically, what he said was true, he’d spent more time with his face between my legs than we had discussing anything.
My dad turned back to me, eyes narrowed. “Is this true, Samantha?”
I caught Elliott’s eye over my father’s head, seeing his subtle nod, encouraging me to be truthful. “Yes. It is.”
With a groan, my dad wiped a hand down his face. “Jesus, Samantha, I can’t believe this,” he said, voice raised. “Can’t believe you’d just—”
“Charles,” Dean Mackelroy interrupted in a sharp voice. “If you can’t remain calm, I’m going to have to ask you to step out and we’ll continue this discussion without you.”
“Fine.” My dad stood and walked toward the window on the opposite side of the office, pacing in front of it as if he had to get out his anger somehow. As soon as he’d vacated his seat, Elliott moved and sat where my father had just been. Even though we weren’t touching, just having him closer, bridging that gap between us, made me more confident.
Dean Mackelroy cleared her throat, shooting a glance between Elliott and me before focusing her attention on him. “Did you enter into a relationship with Ms. Monroe knowing she was a student here, Dean Goodridge?”
“Technically, yes. We did try to avoid it for a while, but found we weren’t able to do so. We began spending time together in a personal relationship a week ago.”
The dean tapped a pen on her desk, leaning back in her chair as she studied us. “You know we have a zero-tolerance policy at TFC regarding fraternization between faculty and students, do you not?”
Elliott tipped his head in a brief nod. “I am aware, yes.”
My dad stopped his pacing and scoffed. “And you chose to disregard it? Why would you knowingly jeopardize your career for a fling with a student?”
“It’s not a fling. It’s never been a fling,” Elliott said, reaching for my hand, though his attention stayed focused on my father. “I fell in love with your daughter, sir. That wasn’t a choice. Refusing to see each other for the few weeks left of the school year when I had no influence on her grades or student life seemed like a waste of time. As the faculty member, I understand the blame for the relationship falls on my shoulders, and I accept that.”
The low hum of conversation continued around me, but I couldn’t pay attention to any of it, too distracted by the bomb Elliott had just dropped. I stared at the side of his face, slack-jawed, as he spoke to my father and Dean Mackelroy, disbelieving what I’d just heard. Mere minutes ago I’d been worrying and wondering if our relationship had somehow been one-sided, if what I’d thought was between us had been me reaching for something that wasn’t there. If those loving looks and touches had been a figment of my imagination. And now the man of my dreams had just proclaimed his love for me… And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it, stuck in an office with people who wanted to pull us apart.
My dad’s irate voice yanked me out of my thoughts, and I glanced over, seeing both him and Elliott staring at Dean Mackelroy with clenched jaws.
“That’s hardly fair,” my dad said—shouted, really—face red.
“You know it’s a no-tolerance policy for both participants,” she said.
“Absolutely not.” Elliott’s voice was firm, his fingers tightening against mine. “Sam will be graduating with her class as expected. She’s worked hard for four years to achieve her goals, and I accept full responsibili
ty for any and all consequences for our actions. If I need to give my resignation to make her graduation possible, I can have a letter on your desk in an hour.”
I gasped, turning toward him. “Elliott! You can’t—”
“Dean Goodridge,” Dean Mackelroy started, leaning forward in her seat.
“Now wait just a minute,” my dad interrupted, shooting a glance between the three of us. He ran a hand across his mouth as he stared at mine and Elliott’s entwined fingers. Then he looked up at me, as if trying to read something in my stare. With a sigh, he turned toward Dean Mackelroy. “There must be some way we could…overlook this.”
“Well,” she said, “I suppose if the complaint was withdrawn, we wouldn’t have a need to move forward with a formal investigation. Graduation is in two weeks, so I don’t foresee any further issues arising based on any relationship Dean Goodridge may or may not be participating in.”
“And nothing would happen to Samantha?” my dad asked.
Dean Mackelroy inclined her head, giving a short nod of affirmation. “Charles, why don’t we step over here for a minute,” she said, moving to stand and heading toward the far corner of her office. My dad followed, their heads bent closely together as they carried on a hushed conversation.
“How are you doing, princess?” Elliott leaned close, his words whispered between us.
“I’m freaking out a little.”
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair back from my face. “Stay calm. It’ll work out.”
“How are you not freaking out? And how could you offer to give them your resignation? That’s…” I shook my head. “It’s your career we’re talking about.”
“One thing you should know, Sam—schools will always err on the side of saving their reputation. The dean no more wants to deal with the scandal of revealing our relationship than we do.”
“Is that why you offered to turn in your resignation?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, his eyes locked on mine as he studied me. Finally, he said, “It’s nice to know they’re pedaling uphill, but no, that’s not the reason I offered to resign. You are… Us. I meant every word, Sam. You’re my heart, and I’d marry you tomorrow if you let me. I know you’re not there yet, though, so I’ll settle for fucking you senseless after this is all over.” He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “And I plan on telling you exactly how much I love you over and over again until you no longer doubt the words.”
A shiver worked its way through my body as he pulled back, dropping his gaze to my lips. Like he was as desperate to feel my mouth on his as I was. After everything he’d said, I wanted nothing more than to get lost in his touch.
Dean Mackelroy cleared her throat, making me jerk in my seat. Elliott took his time moving away, settling back in his chair, but he never dropped my hand. I glanced around him, seeing my dad had taken a seat on the other side of Elliott. He looked at me for a moment before his lips tipped up at the corner, and a sense of relief flooded me.
“Trustee Monroe has agreed to withdraw his complaint,” Dean Mackelroy said, “and the school is prepared to move on without looking into it further on the understanding that this was a one-time slip of judgment and won’t ever happen again.”
“Absolutely,” Elliott said, turning his head to catch my eye. He brought our joined hands to his mouth, pressing his lips against my fingers, making my heart flutter. Making me so damn glad I could call him mine. “Sam’s it for me.”
Epilogue
Elliott
Graduation came and went in a sea of burgundy satin and yellow flowers. There were celebrations for teams, individual parties to attend for the children of alumni and staff, and constant meetings about my inclusion and diversity strategic plan. Sam had been busy as well. The marina was thriving, and she had begun a program teaching children how to sail in their little bay. The work was a wonderful fit for her skills, but it left little time for us. Both a blessing and a curse. The separation meant we’d had no trouble keeping our relationship under wraps until she’d no longer been a student; it also meant I woke up alone occasionally.
My apartment was too empty without her, my life too bland. Which was why I found myself heading out to the marina one Friday night a few weeks after graduation. Sam had said she’d be busy until eight, but that she’d make it back to my place after that. I was too impatient to wait.
When I crested the hill from the parking lot of the marina and saw the bay laid out below me, I had to stop and stare. Gorgeous. Perfect. A paradise for anyone who liked the water. But what caught my eye and left me feeling nostalgic wasn’t the bay but the boathouse. That was where Sam and I had gone from flirting to more. The place I first kissed her, first tasted her skin. The building where I’d first learned what she looked like when she came. It would always be special to me.
I spotted Sam on her parents’ boat and headed right for her. The sun had given her skin a golden hue, and even her hair had grown a little lighter from it. “You’re going to get more freckles.”
She spun, a huge smile brightening her face. “I sure hope so. More of them for you to kiss.”
I waited for her to disembark the boat, a custom she had made quite clear to me, but pulled her into my arms the second one foot hit the dock. “Missed you today.”
“Just today?”
Our kiss was sweet, and her body was so warm in my arms. She smelled like sunshine and the water. “Every day. It’s been a long week without you in my bed.”
“I was at your place Tuesday.”
“Tuesday was a lifetime ago.” I pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. “How were the kids today?”
She pulled back, leading me down the dock and around toward another one. “They were wild. Two of the boys almost capsized because they were trying to play pirates and little Joey had to have a time-out for flicking Lizzie on the ear.”
“That kid is a menace.”
“I’m not going to disagree with you. I just hope he grows out of it.”
“How was Olivia today?”
Sam laughed as we reached another boat, one I recognized as hers. It was quite a bit smaller than her parents’, but she loved it. Loved the freedom it represented to her. We’d had long discussions about her boat.
“Olivia sailed like a champ. She refused to let all the shenanigans get in her way of learning. I adore that kid.”
“She’s just like you were at her age.”
“That’s what my dad says.”
It was. Charles had warmed slightly to me, though our relationship was at times strained. Whenever we fell into an awkward silence or he appeared to be brooding over me and Sam together, I distracted him by asking about her childhood. He loved to tell me stories of her growing up—how she learned to sail so young, how she loved the water even more than he did, and how she had always proclaimed she would grow up to run the marina someday.
That someday was basically upon her.
Once she was done with whatever she’d been doing, Sam grabbed my hand and headed back to land. Actually, she headed straight for the boathouse.
“What are we doing here, princess?”
“Getting out of the sun.”
“The sun’s already touching the treetops across the lake. It’ll set soon.”
“True, but the boathouse is cool inside. And empty. Very empty.”
“Lead the way.” I followed her like a man obsessed, which I was. Her ass swaying as she climbed the three steps to the door captivated, and the way her shorts clung to her thighs delighted. She was gorgeous, stunning, beautiful in a way that stole my breath. And she was mine.
Sam pulled me right into the boathouse, heading down the hallway toward the pool room where we’d started our sexual relationship. My cock grew harder with every step as my brain shuffled through the memories of that night. Her taste, the way she rocked above me, the sounds of the party outside. Her voice saying my name for the first time.
“Shit.” I grabbed her, spinning her i
nto my arms, kissing her hard and deep right there in the hallway. This place, these rooms, were far too meaningful for me to ignore. I wanted her just like I had that night, but now I knew her. I could play her body in ways I’d only dreamt of then. I knew exactly how to get her off if time was a factor, and I also knew how to build up her arousal to take her on a slower journey to release. I knew every freckle, every scar, every dip and curve of her body. And I was ready to relearn them.
“Fuck, Elliott,” she said when she finally pulled away. Her hands were greedy, grabbing and pulling at me with rough touches. I loved it.
“Yes, let’s fuck Elliott. We should totally do that right now.”
Sam laughed, shaking her head even as she unfastened my shorts and pushed them down my legs. “I’ve had more on my mind than a quick fuck, Dean.”
Oh God, that voice. I loved it when she spoke to me in that voice. “What did you have in mind, Miss Monroe?”
She rose onto the balls of her feet as she gripped my cock. I rolled into her, one hand on the wall behind her shoulder to hold me up. She felt so good, her hand soft but firm as she stroked me.
“Sam.”
“I want you in my mouth, Dean Goodridge.”
My groan was too loud, my body shivering as she dropped to her knees. “Princess, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she said, interrupting me. Her eyes looked huge as she stared up into mine, her pouty expression making my cock twitch in her hand. “Don’t tell me no.”
“Never.” I wrapped her hair around my hand, holding it out of her face so I could see everything. The way her pretty pink lips opened around me. How her tongue darted out to lick the tip before she slid me inside. The filthy view of my cock stretching her mouth open. Perfect.
“Fuck, Sam. That feels good.” I rocked slightly, not wanting to take over but unable to hold still. Sam had both hands on my hips, balancing herself as she took me deep. “Perfect. You’re just so perfect.”