by Nichole Rose
"Um, I'm not sure," Rowan says, fidgeting like she's uncomfortable too.
"I met him at a charity event a few months ago," I murmur, picking up my burger. "He's an interesting man, very generous. Miss Grayson seems very compassionate and kind as well. If they are together, they're a very good fit."
The tension around the table diminishes.
Rowan bumps my thigh with hers, shooting me a tiny smile.
I wink at her.
"Give that back, Roger!" a shrill little voice yells, drawing all eyes.
Jamie, the little girl from earlier, stands beside the table one row over, her hands on her hips and tears in her eyes as a little boy holds her lunchbox up above his head. She's so short, there's not a chance in hell of her reaching it on her own. The other kids are all laughing.
"Not again," Rowan growls, jumping to her feet. Fire flashes in her eyes, turning her into an angry little mama bear. "Roger Tennison, you give that back to her immediately!"
As soon as her voice rings out, the entire lunchroom goes quiet.
Roger drops the lunchbox into Jamie's hands.
Rowan makes her way across the lunchroom to the table, bristling. Whatever she says to Roger has him staring at her with big eyes and a trembling bottom lip. The other kids at the table are all completely silent as she speaks to them, using her hands for emphasis.
Roger mumbles something to Jamie. She sniffles and then nods. Both kids reclaim their seats.
"They love her," Lana says, noticing me watching the exchange. "Roger is a challenging kid. He can be a bit of a bully, but even the most challenging kids respond well to Rowan. They hate to disappoint her."
"She's good with them," Lydia agrees. "She has a soft spot for kids like Jamie Grier, the ones who get picked on or bullied. She watches out for them."
"She doesn't have patience for bullies," I murmur, my chest filling with warmth. She is incredible. Everything I learn about her reels me in, pulling me a little deeper under her spell. I can't fucking wait to put a ring on her finger.
Her suggestion floats to the surface of my mind, lodging there. I glance around at the table to see everyone watching Rowan address the bullying issue with her kids. Maybe now is the time to address the issue with the teachers at the table, too.
"I don't have a lot of patience for bullies either," I murmur, keeping my tone casual, light. "Especially when they're in positions of authority. If there's anything like that going on here that I should be aware of, I'd like to know it." I pause to give everyone a moment to mull that over. No one looks directly at me, but they're all listening. "If you don't feel comfortable coming to me, you can always drop a note in the Assistant Principal's box for me this week. You're all doing an incredible job here. I want to ensure you're able to keep doing that without feeling coerced or bullied into making decisions about how you run your classrooms that you don't feel comfortable making."
A couple of the teachers nod, but no one says anything. I don't try to force them into it. I'm still the interloper here, the big boss. If they decide to share their concerns about Johnson with me, it won't be here and now. Planting the seed is enough for now.
I drop the subject and take a bite of my burger. It's…not terrible.
Rowan returns a moment later, dropping back down into her seat with a huff. "I promised you tears," she says, shaking her head. I see the affection in her eyes though and the compassion. She loves these kids. I can't wait until she learns to love me too.
"So you did," I say, grinning at her.
Her answering smile knocks me flat on my ass.
Thirty-three minutes after the final bell rings, Rowan bursts into the Assistant Principal's office like a comet, her chest heaving as if she ran the whole way. Her presence instantly lights up the place. My irritation with Johnson vanishes in a puff of smoke, blown away by the way she looks at me like she's dying to claim that kiss I promised her. She pushes the door closed behind her and then leans back against it, almost shyly.
"Hi."
"Hi." I push my chair away from the desk, turning it to the side.
"School's out," she says, breathless.
"Are the kids gone?"
She nods.
"Come here."
"Why?"
"Because I want you right here."
She sashays over to me, making my dick hard.
The way this woman moves should be illegal. It's sensual, sexy. The fact that she's completely oblivious to how enticing and innocent she looks with those hips swaying and her breasts bouncing does not help my situation any.
"You keep moving like that, I'm going to be fucking you over this desk, Paradise," I growl, reaching out to snag her around the waist. She falls into me with a squeak. Somehow, I manage to drag her into my lap, her legs spread to accommodate mine.
"Sebastian," she whispers, her expression softening. Her gaze drops to my lips and her doe eyes darken, her pupils dilating. She sways closer to me in the chair, unaware of how enchanting she is when she's turned on and needy. I think she's oblivious to how beautiful she is in general. And it's not just the fact that she looks like a goddess, either. She's beautiful inside and out, one of those rare people who radiates goodness.
"Kiss me, Paradise."
"No, I'm busy staring at you." Her cheeks flush, letting me know she didn't mean to tell me that. And that turns me on too. The fact that her mouth seems to run several steps ahead of the rest of her. Her artlessness honesty and innocence are refreshing. I don't ever want her to lose that, especially not because a dick like Richard Johnson doesn't appreciate how truly precious she is.
"I want you to spend the night with me."
Her long lashes flutter, her gaze jumping from my lips to my eyes. "What?"
"Stay the night with me."
"We just met."
"Yesterday." It feels like I've known her longer than that.
"It feels longer," she says, echoing my thoughts. She's still nibbling on her bottom lip, torn between what she wants to do and what she thinks she should do.
A little frisson of worry works its way through me. I don't want her to get the wrong idea about me. God knows, just a few weeks ago, my own brother assumed I slept around. He was wrong.
A long string of one night stands never interested me. We grew up watching our parents avoid each other. When our mom died, our father never cried. He didn't know her well enough to miss her.
I've never been interested in repeating their mistakes. I didn't want to spend my life trapped in a loveless marriage with someone I merely tolerated, so I've avoided relationships and entanglements, instead focusing on my education and career. It wasn't a hardship.
Rowan is different, for a million reasons I'm still discovering myself. It feels like I've been waiting my whole life for her. For years, I've known something was missing. I just didn't know what. It was her though. It's always been her.
"For the record," I say, "this isn't something I do regularly. I haven't been with anyone in two years. I've never pursued a teacher or anyone who worked under me. You're different."
She nods, still nibbling on her bottom lip.
"Tell me what you're thinking," I murmur, running my hand down the plane of her cheek. Her skin is so soft and smooth. If she wears makeup aside from lipstick and mascara, I can't tell. She doesn't need it if she does. Her tawny skin is flawless.
"I'm thinking about my mom."
It's my turn to blink this time. That was not high on the list of things I expected her to say. Actually, it didn't even make the list of things I expected to come out of her mouth. I feel my lips curve into a smile though. She never says what I expect. I fucking love it.
"Your mom wouldn't approve?"
"No. I mean, no, that's not the problem," she clarifies. "My mom is kind of crazy. She'd tell me to go for it." She smiles affectionately. "I was just thinking about what I'm going to say when I call her tomorrow and tell her I slept with my boss. And about what she's going to say back."
; "Does this mean you're thinking about spending the night?" I ask…just to be sure we're on the same page. "Because that sounds like a yes to me and I want to be sure I'm not reading into anything here, Paradise."
"Maybe." Her smile turns mischievous.
I swat her on the ass and then squeeze her plump cheeks in my hands. She has an incredible ass. It's round and juicy, but supple. I can't wait to strip her bare and sink my teeth into it. She squeaks a protest, but I cut her off by leaning up to press my mouth to hers.
Her protest turns to a moan.
I kiss her hard and deep, bucking my hips up to grind against her at the same time. I can't help myself. She makes the sweetest sounds when I make her feel good. And that makes me feel good. I could easily become addicted to pleasuring this woman.
There's something so damn satisfying about knowing I took care of her needs. I made her whine my name and grind her hot little cunt on my dick. I made her eyes glaze over and her mouth pop open. She's my own little piece of paradise, and I'm the one who gets to make her squirm and whine and come.
Jesus, I can't wait to make her come again. Except I want her naked and creaming all over my tongue next time. And then I plan to make her do it again while I'm eight deep and she's wearing my marks all over her lush body.
We kiss for several long moments, grinding against each other like teenagers in the back of daddy's truck on Friday night. When we're both gasping for breath and she's trembling in my arms with need, I back off to place little kisses and love bites all over her chest.
"Spend the night, Paradise," I growl, kneading her ass in my hands. "And when you tell your mom that you slept with your boss, you tell her that your boss will quit himself before letting you suffer any consequences over your relationship with him."
She gasps, meeting my gaze. "You would do that?"
"Yeah, baby," I murmur, tucking her hair behind her ears and then fixing her glasses which sit askew on her face. Fucking up her glasses so she blinks at me like an owl with those big, pretty eyes of hers is quickly becoming one of my favorite things to do. "I would. But I already told you, that isn't going to happen. I can't have any say in your contract, or any disciplinary action taken against you, but we're not breaking any rules here."
We may be breaking convention and people may be scandalized about the two of us, but I don't really give a fuck about their feelings. No one gets to tell me I can't keep her when she's mine. I dare anyone to try.
"I'm pretty sure doing sex things in the Assistant Principal's office breaks a few rules," she says, her tone droll. Her eyes gleam and her lips twitch. She's fucking with me.
"We're not doing sex things. We're kissing, little owl."
"And"—she glances around like she's checking to make sure we're really alone in here, her cheeks flushing—"dry humping."
I grin, folding my hands together behind my head and chuckling. "It's fucking adorable that you were grinding all over my dick two minutes ago, but you can't say dry humping without blushing."
She growls, snapping her teeth like she's going to bite me.
"Forget our jobs, baby. Whatever this is between us, it's worth taking a little risk, isn't it?" I ask…hoping like hell she feels the same way I do. What's happening between us is important…life changing. But if she's truly uncomfortable with the fact that I'm technically her boss—and, please God, don't let her be—then I'll back off. At least I'll try to back off. I don't know how the fuck I'll accomplish it when I haven't stopped thinking about her once since I met her, but for her, I'll try. Whatever it takes to make her realize I'm serious about her.
"Yeah," she whispers almost immediately, "I think it is."
"Thank God," I say, expelling a relieved breath.
She giggles. The happy, carefree sound hits me right in the heart, filling me with warmth.
"I changed my mind," I blurt, reaching up to touch her dimple. I swear to Christ, those little divots in her cheeks fascinate me. "When you talk to your mom, you tell her that you slept with your boss because he's trying to make you fall in love with him."
"What?" Her mouth pops open and she blinks at me like a little owl again.
"I am," I say, shrugging even though there is nothing casual about that statement or the way I feel. I want this woman to fall madly in love with me. Might not sleep until she does. She's it for me, I already know it. Hell, I think I knew it five minutes after meeting her. I just need to warm her up to the idea of being mine. "Figured you should know that."
"Well, maybe I'm trying to make you fall in love with me," she says, giving me those dimples again. "You ever think of that, fancy pants?"
"Fancy pants?" I chuckle.
"Your pants cost more than my whole wardrobe."
"Doubtful." I tap her on the nose. "You ready to come home with me now?"
"Yes." She clamps a hand over my mouth before I can say anything. "But I have to go to my house first for supplies."
"Supplies?"
"Supplies. Clothes, shampoo, conditioner, um, other stuff I can't think of right now." She wiggles around on my lap. "Is your penis always hard?"
I peel her hand away from my mouth. "It's called my cock, Paradise, and around you? Yeah. He stays that way. I'm guessing you want to drive your own car too?"
"Yes, sir."
My dick twitches. Her calling me sir makes me think about all the filthy shit I can make her beg me to do to her. Not that she'd have to beg. At this point, I'm pretty sure I'd crawl across a bed of lava on my hands and knees just to keep her grinding her curvy body on my dick like she does when I kiss her. Once I get inside of her, it's going to be game over. I'll be her willing slave for life.
"We're being discreet, remember?" she says, mistaking my silence for hesitation. "It's not very discreet if I leave in your car and you bring me back in the morning. Everyone will know that we're doing sex things."
"Baby, everyone is going to know you're doing sex things as soon as you step inside the building tomorrow," I say, chuckling. "You're going to be walking bowlegged and blushing for days after I get through with you." My laughter dies in my throat as a thought strikes. Jealousy roils through me in a cloud of possessiveness. "Scratch that. I'll be gentle with you so you aren't walking funny tomorrow. If any of these motherfuckers start thinking about you doing sex things, I'm going to have to kill them."
She'll be beating the male teachers off with a stick if they think they have a shot of sliding between those thick thighs. I'm surprised she isn't already. I saw the way Rick Murphy looked at her at lunch today. She was oblivious to the appreciation and desire in his eyes. I wasn't. Not being able to claim her publicly is going to be hard as hell.
Unless I knock her up and convince her to marry me. No one can say shit about our relationship if she's my wife. Which means I need to speed this process up, make her fall in love faster. Then I can make sure everyone knows she's mine and that I'll straight up murder them if they even think about trying to touch her.
"You're growling," she says, touching the tip of her finger to the groove between my eyebrows. "And you're scowling."
"Just thinking about all the other men on this fucking planet," I mutter, grabbing her hand to kiss her finger. "I don't see why there have to be so many of us. It's bullshit."
She laughs, her dimples popping out to taunt me. I'm obsessed with them because when she flashes them, I know she's genuinely happy. It's hard to miss the emotion when it practically shimmers in the air around her. It's equally as hard to be annoyed at anything when her laughter rings out around us.
"You're crazy, you know that?" she says.
"About you, little owl." I pull her down for another kiss. "I lost my fucking mind about two seconds after I met you."
"Me too," she whispers against my lips, making me grin.
Chapter Five
Rowan
"Give me a year," Sebastian says, smirking at me while he wipes down the countertop beside the stove after feeding me. His kitchen is incredible. It's big en
ough to fit my whole class inside it. It's also open, with high ceilings and enough counterspace to make anyone jealous. A big island runs down the center of the room, with barstools on one side and a sink on the other. Pretty globe pendant lighting with interlocking rings of metals hang overhead.
After meeting him yesterday, I kind of figured the rumors about his family were true. His house confirmed them. It's a historical red Queen Anne in Forest Hill that probably cost more than I'll make in a lifetime. It's beautiful inside and out, with vaulted ceilings, a massive fireplace, and hand carved details.
I don't think he bought it because of the price tag though. He went all nerdy on me when he was giving me the tour, going on about the architect and the history of the place. Dr. Sebastian Thorne is hot all the time. But he is something else altogether when he's in history teacher mode. I wanted to climb him like a tree.
"1853," I say.
"Vice President William King died of tuberculosis."
"1909."
"The NAACP was founded, and the naval base at Pearl Harbor opened."
"1611."
"The first King James version of the Bible was printed." He tosses his towel down and prowls toward me, giving me a cocky smirk. "And Shakespeare's The Tempest was performed for the first time."
"You can do this for every year?"
"Most of them." He stops in front of me, placing his hands on the island on each side of my hips. "I spent a lot of time in the library when I was a teenager," he says, chuckling at me. "It's where I met Leslie Holland. It's also where I fell in love with history."
"Why?"
"Did I fall in love with history?"
"No. Why did you spend so much time in the library?"
"It kept me out of the house," he says, leaning in to kiss me. "My parents never had time for me or Killian when we were kids. Our nanny raised us. After our mom died, our father remarried pretty quickly. Our stepmom, Anna, was hands on. She wanted to be a real family. Our dad stopped working so much, tried to be around more. I resented it, I guess."