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“Questions?” she repeated, the word harsher than I’d ever heard from her.
I hated lying to her, but what choice did I have? If I told her the truth, I’d have to tell her about my past, and I couldn’t do that. She’d look at me differently—she’d look at me like she was right now. With anger and judgment and…betrayal.
“I swear, if I didn’t have to talk to her, I wouldn’t,” I said honestly. I reached for her, but she pulled away before I could touch her. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she asked tightly. “If you’ve done nothing wrong, then you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m sorry you’re upset. But I haven’t done anything wrong. I have to talk to other students, and some of those students are girls. You have to understand that,” I said softly. I reached out again, and this time she let my fingers brush along her neck.
“I’m not stupid,” she mumbled, a single tear spilling from her eye. “I saw how she was sitting?—”
I let out a harsh sigh, cutting her off. “I told her to get off the desk, but she didn’t listen. I didn’t want her in here. But what was I supposed to do? I’m her teacher, too. I have to answer any questions she might have.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were weighing each word. “You don’t…” She took a deep breath, and I knew she was preparing herself for whatever she was about to say. “You don’t talk to her like you talk to me?”
“Of course not,” I breathed, stepping closer. “You’re the only one.” I cupped her cheek, softly stroking her cheek with my thumb. “You’re my girl. Not her. Not anyone else. Just you, Winona.”
She still looked like she didn’t believe me, her gaze wary and body tense. Wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck, I twined them in the short curls there and tugged her forward. Her soft body pressed against mine, her hands resting against my chest, as I let her bag and book fall to the floor again.
I lowered my head closer to hers and smiled at the way her breath hitched. Inching closer, I let her breath ghost over my face before I pulled her the rest of the way to me. Her lips felt so soft against mine, tasted so sweet.
The kiss was supposed to be innocent, nothing more than a gentle reminder that she was wholly mine—her. No one else. But then I trailed my tongue along the seam of her lips, and she opened for me, letting me sweep into her mouth.
I wrapped my arm around her, anchoring her to me. My hand slid down her back to her round ass and squeezed, the touch possessive. Her whimper tasted sweet, and she bunched my shirt in her trembling hands.
She was clumsy and awkward, but it was the best kiss I’d ever had. It wasn’t practiced. She was inexperienced.
It was moments like this I remembered it wasn’t an act, and everything she’d already done, everything she’d already allowed must’ve been so far out of her comfort zone that she was probably freaking out.
But here she was, her knees weak as she kissed me in the middle of this classroom, the door unlocked for anyone to walk in and see what’s happening. Whether it was from trust or naivety, I didn’t know or care. All I cared about was consuming her whole.
I pulled away but kept my face close to hers. My eyes flitted between hers, taking in her massive pupils and flushed cheeks. She panted, her body pressing harder against mine.
“Believe me?” I murmured. “It’s just you, baby.”
Her breath stuttered as she nodded, rolling her lips between her teeth. I pressed another kiss to her forehead, letting my lips linger for only a moment before I stepped back.
Immediately, I missed her warmth, her sweet scent. She swayed on her feet, looking slightly dazed.
“You okay?” I couldn’t help the grin that curled my lips as she nodded again.
“That was…no one has ever kissed me like that before.”
I huffed out a laugh, dropping my head forward. She was fucking cute. “It was good then?”
“Really good,” she breathed.
She ran her hands over her hair, smoothing the curls, before righting her clothes. Always primping. Always making sure she looked perfect. Stooping, I grabbed her belongings once more and held them out. She took the bag, but shook her head at the book.
“I brought it for you,” she said shyly. My brows lifted in surprise, and I looked down, running my fingers over the letters.
“What is it?”
“A romance,” she whispered. I glanced at her from under my brows, finding her more flushed than she’d just been.
“A romance?” I repeated.
“Because you said you didn’t believe in love.” She waved her hand at the book. “I thought it might change your mind.”
