Page 23 of Her Forbidden Teacher

Her response is almost immediate.

Good Girl: Is this Theo?

Too late to back out now. I had her number and now she officially has mine. I’ve crossed a line I never should have gotten close to.

Me: I thought you could tell by my miserable tone.

Good Girl: It’s pretty unmistakable.

Me: Any big plans?

Good Girl: None. I would do just about anything to escape this prison.

I glance at the time. It’s almost midnight on a Friday. An eighteen-year-old girl like Addison should be out having fun on a Friday night.

Me: What about your friends?

Good Girl: I have two. Savvy has a baby, so she’s probably in bed. The other one is afraid to be alone with me and avoided me all week.

Me: Not by choice, trust me.

Good Girl: Come save me then?

My heart races at her question. Going to her would be a bad idea, but I can’t erase it from my mind.

Me: And what would we do?

Good Girl: Skinny-dip at the lake?

I suck in a sharp breath.

Good Girl: I’m kidding. Talking would be nice. You could park up the road, and I could come sit in your truck.

I’m already sliding out of bed to throw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

Me: Text me your address.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting at the end of Addison’s street, trying to talk myself into leaving. Instead of driving away like a normal, sane person, I text her and let her know where I’m at. A few minutes later, she opens the passenger side door to my truck and slides across the bench seat until she’s right next to me.

“Finally,” she says in greeting, hugging me from the side. “I was so bored.”

Her palm settles on my thigh over my basketball shorts, and I stupidly put mine over hers. “Me too.”

“It’s weird seeing you in shorts,” she says with a giggle. “Your legs are hairy.”

I snort out a laugh. “Kind of normal with men.”

She slides her leg up over mine. “I just shaved mine. Feel how smooth.”

Don’t do it.

All too eagerly, I place my hand on her warm thigh. Then, I feel her silky flesh, moving my palm up and down from her knee all the way up to the hem of her super short sleep shorts.

“Very smooth,” I rasp out.

I wonder what else she shaved…

“We’re supposed to be friends,” I grit out. “Not whatever this is.”