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18
BLAIRE
Sitting at my desk, I review each of my students’ grades. Of course, Jaden is my best student by far. He’s born to be a chef. He really doesn’t need my teaching; it all comes so naturally to him. I need to find more challenging recipes for him next year. I want to bring out the very best in him. He’ll need to be pushed to a higher standard if he still wants to move to New York City and open a restaurant there. That’s one tough place to open a new establishment and be successful. I know he has it in him, but I want to give him as much knowledge and as many skill sets as I possibly can.
It’s still fifteen minutes before anyone will be here when a hard thump comes from the other side of the classroom door. I jump from my chair and walk toward the door. I peek through the square window. Not seeing anyone, I open the door.
Looking down, I find Jaden trying to lift his backpack.
“Let me help you with that,” I say. Bending down, I make eye contact with him. My body quivers inside. Heat pools in my belly and lower as I take in his familiar scent. My eyes flutter, my heart races as I reach for his backpack.
“I got it.” He grasps the same strap I have in my hand. We touch and my insides erupt. I take a deep breath. Placing my hand on my knee, I push myself up and stand next to him.
“Jaden. How are you? Really?” I look up and down the hallway. It’s empty at the moment, so I touch his arm.
“I’m fine.” He looks down at my hand on his arm and smiles.
I move my hand and push the door open with my ass, stepping backwards into the classroom.
He walks into the room and over to his table. He places his backpack down and turns to face me. Our eyes lock.
Familiar sexual and emotional sensations flood my body. I thought what we had was just a two-week affair. Just sex, no commitments. No feelings. Just fucking until we passed out. So, why is my heart racing? Why are my legs weak? Why the hell am I wet?
You know why.
My feet move me toward Jaden, and I begin to speak, “Jaden, I wish?—”
“Don’t say it, Blaire. Don’t tell me what you wish. We both know it can’t be.” He drags his fingers through his hair, then steps toward me.
“I’ll finish next year with you as my instructor. I want to learn from the best, and that’s you. But my feelings won’t ever?—”
“Not here,” I interrupt him.
“Yes, here. Let me finish, please. I?—”
The classroom door flies open, and we step away from each other. He quickly turns and walks back to his table.
I straighten my blouse and wipe my hands down the front of my skirt. I take deep breaths and hold each one to a four-count before blowing them out, trying to calm my racing heart.
When all of my students are present and sitting at their tables, I clear my throat. “Good morning, everyone.” I smile and hold my iPad close to my chest.
“Good morning, Miss Turner,” they reply.
“Let’s welcome Jaden back to class.” I wave my arm in his direction.
He nods in recognition of his fellow students saying, “Welcome back, Jaden.”
I catch Candace trailing her hand down Jaden’s arm, then holding his hand lying on the table. My chest tightens and my stomach feels like cement. My fingers turn white as I clutch my iPad tighter.
Coughing loudly, I glance at her, then shift my narrowing eyes, fire blazing behind them to the floor. A second passes as I compose myself.
Addressing the entire class, I say, “Time to get started on today’s recipe. Let’s go to the prep stations and begin.” I walk down the middle of the class and lead my students to the back of the room.
When Candace goes to retrieve the bowls and utensils needed, I turn toward Jaden and touch his good arm. His skin is so soft and warm. I squeeze it tighter.
He tilts his head and smiles at me. His blue eyes drawing me into his aura. My eyes flutter, my clit throbs. I take a deep breath and attempt to regain my composure. Sliding my hands down the front of my apron, I avoid eye contact with him as I say, “Jaden, you’re going to need help today.”
“I’ll be happy to help Jaden, Miss Turner. I can make mine, then help him with his. I got this,” Candace says confidently with a smile on her face as she empties her arms filled with bowls and spoons on the counter.
