Page 40 of The Headmaster’s Rule

“Text me when you get home,” he says gruffly. “I need to know you’re safe.”

Oh, God.

“I will,” I breathe.

He’s so close, towering above me in that protective way, and I cannot stop myself from placing a hand on his chest. He sucks in a sharp breath, but doesn’t step back. I should stop, should get in my car and drive away, but I can’t. I’m reassured by the feel of him, the solid, hot muscle under his shirt, the pulse racing behind his ribs. All I can think is, what if he hadn’t been here?

“Thank you, Theo.”

He presses his eyes shut as though he’s in pain. Something about that expression sends heat spiraling through me.

“You didn’t…” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “You didn’t have to come after me.”

“Yes. I did.” His voice is a rough, brutal scrape I’ve never heard before. The sound of a man barely hanging on.

My fingers stroke the cotton of his shirt, as if they’ve got a mind of their own, and I lean in, desperate for him to lower his mouth to mine, if even for a second.

“Eleanor,” he grits out. It’s a warning and a plea.

And it’s enough to bring me to my senses.

I drop my hand, stepping back, and bash my shoulder on the car. Pain flashes through me, but I ignore it.

“Goodnight,” I mutter, slipping into the driver’s seat and closing the door before he can respond. I start the engine with shaking hands, pulling out of the parking space, my heart racing.

When I glance in the rear-view mirror, all I can see is his silhouette standing under the pool of light, watching me go.

CHAPTER 15

Theo

Itype out three texts to cancel my next meeting with Eleanor, and send none. I can’t kick her off the fundraiser, but the tight leash on my control is slipping. I’m terrified I’ll do something I can’t take back. Something I don’t want to take back.

Last night was close. Too close. Every moment we spend alone together only adds fuel to the fire, so the next time we meet cannot be in my office, over food.

Instead, I ask Eleanor to meet me in the faculty lounge after school. It’s a place where people come and go, a place we will be disturbed, which is exactly what I need. We can keep our distance as she talks me through some of the details for Safe Harbor, and everyone will see me behaving appropriately. Responsibly.

Not leaning in close, savoring the feel of her hand against my thundering heart in the darkness, wishing she’d close the gap and kiss me before I could stop her.

Not imagining what she would feel like if I nudged her up against her car, mouth warm and hungry, curves soft under my hands.

God.

Shame washes through me as I enter the faculty lounge for our meeting. She’d been cornered in the parking lot, terrified, and here I am imagining kissing her. Touching her. I’m a fucking disgrace.

I shake my head as I jam a coffee pod into the machine. She should never have been in that position. I should have walked her to her car, regardless of her protests. But she was determined to go alone, and I wanted to respect that, didn’t want to smother her. Not to mention it gave me a chance to catch my breath after that moment we shared, her hand on my arm, fingers warm and soft, making my blood run hot and quick. Making my cock stir, aching for her to touch me everywhere else.

Jesus Christ.

I shove the inappropriate image away, chastising myself. It’s not okay to have these thoughts. Period. I’m her boss. Twenty years her senior. And so fucking jaded that she deserves better, even if the above weren’t true.

The coffee machine sputters as my cup fills, and I take the steaming mug to a seat by the window, stifling a yawn. I was up before dawn again today, installing cameras in the parking lot with Mason. Whoever threatened Eleanor last night will have hell to pay if he shows his face here again.

Unease ripples through me at the thought. First the break-in, then the parking lot. I’m losing control of the school.

Eleanor enters the faculty lounge looking as radiant as ever in a saffron-yellow dress with elbow-length sleeves, printed with tiny black and white bees. Her shoes are yellow too, with black bows on the toes, and matching bows in her ears. It’s the most ridiculous outfit, yet all I can think about is unzipping that dress, watching it land at her feet, sliding my hands across her bare skin.

Shit. I’m losing control of a lot more than just the school.