Page 62 of The Headmaster’s Rule

She glances from the sketch to me, her excitement getting the better of her. “Here. I’ll show you.” She rounds the counter to stand beside me, straightening the image in front of us.

I smile wryly, reaching into my jacket pocket. “I’ll have to put my glasses on to see this.”

She laughs, and it makes my heart fucking dance, knowing I’m the one who made her do that. Knowing she likes me in these glasses.

“I’ll restrain myself,” she promises. Then she watches as I slide them up my nose, eyes glinting. I’m tempted to lean in and kiss her, but not yet. I’m too busy enjoying this quiet ease between us, how comfortable I feel here, in her kitchen, with her.

Her gaze drops to her sketch, and she motions to the green shaded area. “This is where we’ll put the tent. I’ve already found three potential companies I can contact tomorrow for quotes.”

She continues, pointing out details, adding notes as ideas occur to her. I try to listen, but I’m distracted by how close she is, the heat of her beside me. I can’t stop myself from placing a gentle hand on her lower back, tracing circles on her cardigan. After that her sentences become fragmented, her breathing stilted, as if my touch makes it hard to focus. I remove my hand, giving her space to breathe. I want this to be on her terms. To make certain she’s comfortable.

Rising to my feet, I slide my jacket off and hang it over the back of the stool. “Will you bring that by my office tomorrow?” I ask, setting my glasses aside. Her ideas are always good, and I want to look at them again more closely when I can truly appreciate them.

She looks pleased. “Of course.”

The papers on the coffee table catch my eye, and I wander to her sofa and sink onto the velvet, gesturing to them. “And what’s this?”

“Oh.” Her cheeks color again as she joins me, hovering beside the sofa. “Plans for Safe Harbor. I’ve been brainstorming ideas for how to roll out the first Ripple Week in February.”

I rub a hand over my chin, admiring her. She watches the movement, swallowing hard.

“You didn’t shave,” she murmurs, voice dropping an octave.

“I know. Sorry. I just wanted to see you.”

“Sorry?” She says it in the same incredulous way she did when I apologized after first kissing her in the parking lot. “Don’t be sorry. I like it.”

My brows spring up again.

Well. I can work with that. Hell, I’ll grow a damn beard if it makes her happy.

I scratch my jaw again, intentionally slow, letting the whiskers rasp under my palm. Heat kindles in her eyes, and I’m done being patient.

“Can I kiss you, Eleanor?” Maybe it’s a little late in the game to ask, but since I’ve kissed her twice now without asking, it feels like the right thing to do.

But the real reason, I notice, as I wait with bated breath for her response, is that I’m nervous. This isn’t an impulsive, stolen moment on school property. This is an intentional choice.

And that’s terrifying.

Her lips soften into a smile. “Yes. Please.”

She closes the distance between us, kneeling beside me on the sofa. Her hands come to my cheeks tenderly as our lips meet. I brush my mouth to hers, savoring the taste of her. She’s just as sweet as earlier, in her classroom, and my blood heats.

Nudging her lips apart, I slip my tongue into her mouth, aching for more. She happily obliges, opening for me, moaning when our tongues meet, and I reach for her waist, tugging her onto my lap. Her knees settle on either side of my hips as she straddles me. The heat of her, so close, makes my cock thicken in my pants.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispers between kisses, dragging her mouth over my cheek, my unshaven jaw.

“Me neither,” I admit, shivering when her lips meet my neck. Her fingers undo the top buttons of my shirt and she kisses me lower, sighing. I close my eyes, relishing the sensation of her touching me, her fingers tunneling into my hair.

Then her mouth is on mine again, hungrier now. She kisses me with long strokes of her tongue, winding her arms around my neck to pull me in close. Heat sears through me at her eagerness. God, I want to make her even needier, to take her apart until she’s begging me not to stop. But not tonight. Not yet.

I reach for her barrette, easing it from the strands like I’m undoing a ribbon on a gift. I want to see her fully, how she looks when no one else is watching. Tossing it aside, I lean back to gaze at her. She’s utter perfection: swollen lips, flushed cheeks, heavy-lidded eyes.

And we haven’t even started.

My dick twitches in anticipation, and she feels it, glancing down between us. I hadn’t intended for things to go too far tonight, but when she arches a brow, giving me a sexy smile, I’m gone. That’s all it takes, one look for me to throw away every rule I’ve ever lived by, just to have her.

Christ, she has no idea what she’s unleashing.