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I nodded absently, smoothing my hands down my hair. “Yes,” I said, focused more on my messed-up appearance.
But his finger hooked under my chin and lifted. I raised my eyes, meeting his.
“Yes, what?” he prompted, looking stern.
My clit pulsed and started throbbing again, and I bit back the excitement warming up my chest.
“Yes, Mr. Marek.”
He leaned in slowly, kissing my lips once more, and then pulled back and looked down at me.
“Is my tie straight?” he asked, changing the subject.
I couldn’t contain the small laugh that escaped. It amazed me how he could go from hot to boyish in a matter of two seconds.
I reached up and fixed his black and gray tie and then straightened my back, again checking my dress and my hair.
But he tipped my chin back up, locking eyes with me. “You’re perfect,” he assured me. “Everything about you is perfect.”
But then I gasped as he spun me around and forced me to bend over. I had time only to twist my head to see what he was doing behind me before he yanked up my dress and slapped me on the ass.
“Wha—!”
He pulled me back up, my ass pressing into his groin as he smoothed my dress down and palmed my behind, breathing against my neck.
“Except that little episode at my office on Saturday,” he growled low in my ear. “Don’t ever mouth off to me in public again.”
And then he let me go and walked for the door, stopping once he’d put his hand on the door handle.
“I’ll see you soon, Ms. Bradbury.” He smirked and walked out, the sound of the janitor’s cart rolling down the hallway outside my door.
I stared at his back as he left, my stomach churning at his commands and confidence, and I shot out my foot, kicking the leg of my chair.
He had spanked me.
He’d spanked me!
I looked over at the windows, the angry sky dark with the promise of rain and the trees’ leaves dancing wildly.
Smooth sailing, my ass.
EIGHT
TYLER
“Hey,” I greeted Christian as I walked into the dark kitchen. “How did practice go?”
He was sitting at the granite island, leaning back in his chair with his thumbs jutting out furiously on his phone.
“Fine,” he replied, not looking at me.
His eyebrows were pinched together, heavy in concentration on whatever he was doing, or maybe he was just trying to look like he was busy.
He grabbed a piece of popcorn out of the bowl in front of him and tossed it into the air, catching it in his mouth.
I glanced down at the floor, shaking my head and smiling at the evidence that he wasn’t a perfect shot every time.
I walked around the island and opened the refrigerator, grabbing a beer.
“The rain is starting,” I told him. “Do me a favor and make sure the shutters in your bedroom are drawn and all of your windows are locked.”
“Mrs. Giroux already made the rounds to all the rooms,” he told me, continuing to type on his phone.
“Good.” I nodded, twisting the lid off my longneck. “I don’t think the hurricane will hit us, but I want you to stay inside unless you’re in school or with me.”
The storm had entered the Gulf, but its trajectory showed it heading toward Florida, so, at most, we were looking at a tropical storm.
“There is no school.”
I swallowed the beer and gave him a questioning look. “What are you talking about?”
He looked up at me as if I was supposed to know. “They canceled school until Thursday,” he announced. “They’re anticipating some flooding, so I’m off for the next two days.”
I set the beer down with a clunk and placed my hands on the island, staring at him.
“Do they send home notes letting parents know this sh—” I stopped myself. “Stuff?” I corrected.
“Yeah,” he answered, sounding sarcastic as he put his hand on the paper on the island and pushed it over. “They also e-mailed the parents, if you cared to check.”
I picked up the light blue piece of paper and read the notice.
The school sat in a depressed piece of land, and due to the heavy rains expected, they didn’t feel it was safe for students or teachers to be traveling the streets to and from the school.
“Oh,” I mumbled, calming down. “Well, that’s a nice surprise, I guess. I used to love surprise days off as a kid.”
“I’m not a kid,” he shot back, grabbing his Dr Pepper off the counter and taking a drink. “You missed that part, remember?”
I set the paper down, loosening my tie and slipping off my jacket.
What was he trying to accomplish with this behavior?
I took a deep breath and let it roll off me.
“Well, the Saints are playing tonight,” I said, looking over my shoulder at him as I grabbed a sandwich off the plate in the refrigerator. “I was thinking we could hit Manning’s for a bite to eat and watch the game.”
He hopped off his chair and picked up his soda. “Marcus’s dad is taking him to their cabin in Mississippi to fish for a couple days to get away from the rain. They invited me.” He started to walk out of the kitchen. “They’ll be here to pick me up in half an hour.”
What?
I slammed the refrigerator door closed and charged after him.
“Stop!” I barked, following after him down the hallway. “I didn’t give you permission to go anywhere. Do you even know how to fish?”
He rounded the staircase and stopped to look at me, disdain written all over his face.
“My dad has taken me fishing,” he pointed out, talking about his stepfather. “Many times. And I’ve been to Marcus’s cabin. Many times since elementary school. I wonder why you don’t know this,” he sniped, and continued jogging up the steps.
