by R. Linda
“Glad to hear it. If you have any trouble, my door is always open.” He kept his hand on my back and walked with me down the steps. I shifted uncomfortably under his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he closed the distance between us further.
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” I said, increasing my speed to get away from him. He was friends with my father, and I wasn’t sure whether this was normal behaviour for him. I’d only met him once or twice at the golf club and was too young to really remember him.
He followed, undeterred. “Some of the kids can be quite troublesome.”
I stopped and turned to face him, intending on putting an end to the conversation and ridding myself of my god-awful chaperone, when Bennett caught my eye. I faltered. I opened my mouth but forgot what I was going to say. He clasped Audrey’s hand in his, her bag over his shoulder, and led her to a car that was idling across the parking lot.
John followed my gaze. “Ah, yes. They’re particularly troublesome, those two. Bennett more so than Audrey, so if he should give you any hassles at all, let me know, and I’ll deal with him.”
Bennett gave me a lot of things, but hassles weren’t one of them.
John brushed a strand of hair from my shoulder and let his hand linger in the same place Bennett’s had been only minutes ago.
I frowned and tried to step back. He was too close. There was no warmth in his touch. In fact, it made my skin crawl. I peered over his shoulder again to see if anyone had noticed how close he was and saw Bennett watching me. His gaze was intense, and I could see the tension in his jaw from all the way across the parking lot. The car had left with Audrey in it, and he was alone.
“Listen, John.” I smiled through clenched teeth, and grabbing his hand from my shoulder, I dropped it at his side and stepped back. “I appreciate the concern, but I think the students are going to be the least of my worries at this school. I’ll tell my father you said hello, shall I?”
He practically jumped back at the mention of my father. Shaking his head and chuckling quietly, he composed himself and put some much-needed distance between us. “Yes. Please. Tell him we’ll meet for a game one of these days. It’s been a while.” And then he left.
With one last glance at Bennett, I got in my car and took off before he or anyone else approached me.
Chapter Four
Bennett
It was dumb and risky, and I’d promised Audrey I wouldn’t do it, but I followed Christina home. I wasn’t really following, since I’d spent nearly every night in the past couple of weeks at her place, anyway, so I knew exactly where she lived.
But what threw me was she didn’t go home. She turned left instead of right and went straight instead of curving back around, ending up on the cliff overlooking the cove.
“Go home, Bennett,” she said when I climbed out of my car and came up behind her. She was perched on the safety rail.
“You going to jump?” I asked, leaning forward. It was a hell of a long way down.
She scoffed and looked out at the horizon.
“So, you’re my teacher, huh?” I rested my elbows on the bar, close enough that my arm brushed hers. I wanted to touch her.
“Yeah. You failed to mention you were a student.” Her voice was bitter. She was pissed. Understandably. And so was I, dammit. She hadn’t told me she was a teacher either. Though it probably wouldn’t have deterred me unless I had known she was going to be my teacher. She wouldn’t look at me, and if she leaned any farther away, she’d plummet to her death.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “And you failed to mention you were working for my father.”
I slid behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and pulled her off the safety rail, not letting go until she had both feet planted firmly on the ground and her back pressed into the bar. Even then, I locked her in place with my legs, my hands braced on the bar beside her.
“You didn’t ask.” She pushed on my chest to try to get me to move, give her space.
“Neither did you.” I didn’t budge. I leaned in closer, pressing my body against hers. Six hours, I hadn’t been able to touch her, and my body was screaming for her.
She sucked in a breath, her eyes darkening, and she softened against me. Yes.
“Wait.” She tensed, placing a hand on my chest. “Your father?”
“Principal Douche. Figured you would have worked that out by now.”
“John’s your father?” She stared at me, understanding flashing in her blue eyes.
“Clearly.” Had we not exchanged surnames? Probably not.
“We have a few things we need to discuss, don’t you think?” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
I leaned down, brushing my nose along her neck, breathing her in. “Does this discussion include picking up where we left off this morning?”
Her eyes snapped open, and she used all her strength to push me back.
I chuckled and raised my hands in defence. “Or maybe you can see my father about that. I mean, at least it’s not illegal with him. And you’re exactly his type.” He liked them young and blonde.
“You’re an ass.”
“Never said I wasn’t.” I shrugged, placing my hands in my pockets and walking over to my car. She and my father looked terribly close after school. Even Audrey noticed the way he leaned toward her as he spoke, his hand on her lower back. He was a creep.
“Maybe I will,” she called after me. “Seems like he could handle me. He’s man enough. Has lots of experience.”
I clenched my hands into fists. She was saying it on purpose. Tormenting me. Still, if my father so much as looked at her the wrong way, he’d wish he’d sent me to my mother’s to live.
I leaned against my car and looked at her. She’d moved closer and was now standing with her back against the passenger door of her car, arms folded across her chest, making her cleavage so much more visible.
She frowned at me and didn’t say a word. I smirked and waited her out. I had all the time in the world. I avoided home and my dad like the plague. I’d rather be anywhere but there with him. We only fought or ignored each other, and he preferred to have his own space, which suited me fine. I didn’t like to look at him. We continued to stare at each other, not saying a word.
She sighed and pushed off her car and walked toward me. “My father and yours are friends. That’s how I got the job. I’ve only met John a couple of times, and you never came up in conversation.”
Figured. Why would he talk about me? I was his biggest disappointment, his greatest inconvenience, and if it weren’t for the fact my mother was even more selfish than he was, he wouldn’t even be in my life. But he was the lesser of two evils.
Both my parents were career focused. They’d had a brief affair. Mum was young, wide-eyed, naïve, and dad’s assistant who just wanted to work her way to the top of the corporate world—or more like screw her way to the top. But then she fell pregnant with me and got greedy, made too many demands of Dad. Demands he couldn’t possibly fulfil with a wife and daughter at home. It ended his marriage, tore apart his family—the one he cared about—and ruined his reputation. His wife left with their daughter, my half-sister, Willow, and he had to build a life from scratch all over again.
I lived with my mother for a while, until she found herself some bigshot CEO to support her, and then she lost interest in me. Her clothes, fancy jewellery, and flashy cars became more important, and she shipped me off to live with John. I’d been a thorn in his side ever since.
“No surprise there.” I shrugged.
“What do you mean?” Christina tilted her head and studied me.
We’d never had a meaningful conversation, other than how tight to make the handcuffs, and I wasn’t about to start with my father as the topic.
“He doesn’t exactly scream ‘father figure,’ does he? I mean, he was laying the moves on you after school.”
“He what?”
“Don’t be daft, Christina. You’re telling me you didn’t no
tice the way he stood too close, or let his hand linger on your body too long?” I scoffed.
“You certainly noticed, didn’t you?”
“From the other side of the parking lot. Yes.” She was so close again, I could just reach out and pull her to me. “Did it make you feel special?”
“No. It made my skin crawl.”
“Good.” My lips curved into a small smile. I was glad she didn’t enjoy his attention.
We were silent again, watching each other. She licked her lips, and her fingers twitched in front of her. She looked as though she was fighting the urge to reach for me as much as I was.
“This,” she raised her hand after a few more moments and flicked it between us, “is over. You know that, right?”
I knew she was right. It had to end, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. We were great together. She was made for me, my hands, my body, and given enough time, it could have become something more. I said I was an ass before, but that wasn’t true. I liked her and could maybe come to care about her more, but I wasn’t that much of a jerk to continue this affair and risk her job, her reputation—hell, even her freedom. Or mine. If my father discovered our relationship, he’d kick me out without even blinking.
I pushed off the car and closed the distance between us. Her breath caught in her throat as she lowered her head and looked at the ground. My left hand rested on her hip, and my right grabbed her hair, pulling it tightly until she was staring me in the eyes. Her entire body pressed against mine. I leaned down, and my body hummed, wanting to kiss her one last time but knowing I shouldn’t. I brushed my lips against her cheek and smiled when she melted against me, trying to turn her face so I’d kiss her.
“I know,” I whispered against her ear, and then I released her, stepped back, and opened my car door. “I’ll see you at school, Ms. Brown.”
Looking in my rear-view mirror as I drove away, I watched Christina close her eyes and stomp her foot like a child. She didn’t want this to end any more than I did.
It didn’t have to end, though. Not entirely. We just had to put it on pause for a couple of months, until she was no longer my teacher.
Should be simple, right?
I could keep my distance, keep my hands and lips and other parts to myself for ten more weeks. It wasn’t like I needed her, or my life depended on having her nails scratching down my back. Ten weeks was nothing. Audrey would make sure I stayed away and kept my focus on school work, and not my English teacher.
Chapter Five
Christina
My bed was cold and empty. Completely uninviting. Entirely different from what it had been earlier that morning when I didn’t want to leave the warmth of Bennett’s arms.
But he was a student.
My student.
And the principal’s son.
Could it get any more complicated?
The purple silk scarf still hung from the headboard, and the unmade sheets depressed me. I grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the cupboard and made my way into the living room where I planned to eat my weight in popcorn and watch home renovation shows all night and not think about the boy with the blue eyes and muscles for days.
Jesus, he was just a boy.
My heart stuttered in my chest, and my stomach churned.
How old was he?
I’d never asked, apparently. Because Bennett didn’t look like a high school student. He looked like a man in every way.
I hugged the pillow to my chest. What if he was only seventeen? The thought made me sick to my stomach. I could go to prison for that.
I grabbed my phone from the coffee table and almost knocked the bowl of popcorn over at the same time.
Christina: How old are you?
I waited, anxiously staring at the screen for his reply.
Bennett: Feeling guilty, huh?
He punctuated his text messages with perfect grammar. Why was that such a turn on? Oh, my god. I was turning into an English nerd. Like Bailey.
Christina: Just answer the question.
Bennett: I’m sure you can figure it out.
Christina: Bennett!
Bennett: Yes, Ms. Brown?
My stomach fluttered. There was something appealing about the way he said Ms. Brown, even in a text message. With that perfect punctuation. Dammit. No. It was all so wrong. But it felt so right. Why did he have to be a student?
Christina: Don’t play games.
Bennett: I like our games, though.
I liked our games too. He was a great team player. Always went above and beyond. I went into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine, hoping to settle my nerves, and when I returned, there was another text.
Bennett: Let’s play a game.
Christina: I’m not in the mood.
Bennett: I’m sure I can get you in the mood. ;-)
My lips twisted into a smirk, but I washed it away with my grape juice. I wouldn’t fall for his charm. I couldn’t let it happen. Bennett could be very persuasive, and it wouldn’t take much to convince me to go back on my word. We were over, and all I wanted to know was his age, to ease the fear eating away at me.
Bennett: Twenty Questions.
Christina: You want to play Twenty Questions?
Bennett: Yes. You started it.
Christina: Then answer my question.
Bennett: That’s not how this game works. You answer my questions, and then at the end, you’ll have your answer.
Christina: Okay, fine. I’ll bite.
I cringed the moment I sent that text, knowing what was coming next. He liked it when I bit his shoulder, collarbone, chest…
Bennett: So, what you’re saying is you want me to come over?
My bed was cold and empty. He’d certainly warm it up.
Christina: No. I’ll play the game.
Bennett: And if I win, you’ll bite, then?
Christina: Bennett!
Bennett: I feel like I’m about to get in trouble.
Christina: You are if you don’t stop messing around.
Bennett: Will there be some sort of punishment if I don’t?
I thought about the handcuffs in my bedside drawer and smiled. They were fun. I thought he liked them a little too much.
Christina: I’ve had a sucky day. I’m tired and grumpy and just need an answer.
Bennett: Grumpy, because you miss me already?
Yes. Even though I shouldn’t.
Christina: Grumpy because you’re not taking this seriously.
Bennett: Okay, I’ll be serious.
Christina: Forget it. I’m going to bed.
Bennett: Alone?
Of course, I was going alone. What did he think, that I jumped from bed to bed? Well, okay, maybe he could think that since we slept together the day we met, and I barely remembered his name. But, Jesus, was that what he really thought of me? Was I more invested in this, whatever we were, than he was?
Bennett: Shit. No, not like that.
Bennett: That came out wrong.
Christina: Fuck you, Bennett.
Bennett: Been there. Done that. Twenty times, to be precise.
He counted?
Bennett: You’re going to bed without me? That was what I meant to say.
Bennett: Want some company?
His texts kept coming, and I had to stop myself from laughing, smiling as I pictured how worked up he must be, thinking he offended me. He hadn’t. Not really. I was the first to admit I’d had many relationships in the past, no matter how long or short they lasted, one night or two years. But it didn’t mean I liked having it pointed out so blatantly.
Bennett: I don’t mind the biting.
Bennett: What are you thinking?
That was a loaded question. I was thinking I wanted him to come over and warm my bed. About how much trouble I could really get into, and whether it would be worth losing my job over.
Christina: Good night, Bennett.
Bennett: Wait!
Bennett: Twenty Questions. I promise y
ou’ll have your answer at the end.
Christina: No more games?
Bennett: None. Scout’s honour.
Christina: Fine.
Bennett: Question the first…
I waited, staring at my phone and watching for the little dots to appear, indicating he was typing a message. But nothing happened. No dots. No replies. For an hour, I sat with my phone in my hands waiting, and nothing.
Jerk.
I threw my phone on the table and punched my pillow into a better shape so I could get some sleep. Alone. In my living room. And not in my bed, because it was missing someone who should never have been there in the first place.
But it was useless. I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not when my body craved Bennett. Had I really got so used to having him around that I couldn’t sleep without him? The thought was ridiculous. I didn’t need a man. Hell, he wasn’t even a man.
Boy.
He was just a boy.
I’d never cared so much before about not having someone there. My last boyfriend and I broke up, and I went on like nothing had happened, like I hadn’t even had a boyfriend. Flings had ended, and I’d always adapted to being single. So, why was Bennett getting under my skin?