Page 53 of Read With Your Heart

“You’re always safe with me,” Leon assures me, taking my mouth again, deeper this time. He lifts one of my wrists above my head, pinning me in place as his body rocks against me. He dips his knees, so we line up, and he drags himself upward, rubbing against me.

“Oh God,” I whimper because we aren’t close enough and making out isn’t all I want. He switches his grip on my wrists to his other hand and then he drags his fingers down my side. Along the underside of my arm. Along the side of my breast. Along my waist. His fingers curl into the waistband of my jeans and then slide to the center. He pops the button.

“Let me in,” he whispers.

Here? Does he want to have sex with me here? I work here. I . . .

“Just let me touch,” he says against my mouth as his fingers undo my zipper and his palm flattens against my belly. His long fingers move lower, sweeping inside my panties and dipping between my legs. His middle finger finds the trigger spot, and then he dives into me. I cry out at the welcome intrusion, and Leon swallows the gasp with his mouth over mine.

“Quiet, baby,” he tells me, keeping his lips to mine while he smiles against them.

“Shirts and skin,” I whisper. My free hand tugs his shirt free of his jeans. My palm meets hot skin, and he hisses. Still working at my core, I unbuckle his belt, unbutton his jeans, and lower the zipper.

“You’re asking for trouble, teacher,” he warns, teasing me with his roughened voice.

“How will you punish me?” I whisper against his mouth while my fingers find his seeping tip. He hisses again.

“After school detention,” he groans as my fist forms around his thick length, and I squeeze. He deepens the force of his fingers inside me. We both rock forward, meeting in the middle. His body presses at the back of his hand inside my pants. Then he rocks us in a dance, the motion imitating how he’d enter me. His finger mimics the move. In and out. Thrust and surge. I match him with a squeeze and tug. We move back and forth, the tension building as our tongues tangle, and our fingers stroke each other. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. He moves faster, adding a second finger and plunging upward. Mine jerks harder, palming him as tight as I can.

“It’s gonna get messy,” Leon warns, his voice straining as we both move. His fingers at my wrist tighten and our hips clash until I stiffen, the rush too much. I hold and clench around his long digits inside me. Then he slams me back, his weight against me as he releases into my hand. His forehead rests on mine, and we both ride the soaring height and slowly come down from the high.

“Fuck, you are beautiful,” he whispers to me, pressing a kiss to my temple. Suddenly, we hear the clank of a metal door. Leon quickly removes his fingers, and I yank my hand from his pants. He uses the edge of his shirt to do a quick swipe of my hand before we each hastily fumble with our own jeans. Taking my hand and leading me to the edge of the bleachers, Leon peeks over the stands. He nods to the side exit door a few feet away as the bleachers begin to collapse. Whoever left them open has returned to close them, and Leon tugs me forward.

“Hey,” an Italian voice calls out. I recognize the late-shift janitor, but I duck my head, hoping he doesn’t see me. Leon pushes open the outside exit door and drags me down the side of the building. Once we are far enough along the side that we disappear into the shadow, he presses me into the brick wall and kisses me hard. His mouth crashes against mine, and my fingers curl against his short hair. His fingers dig into my sides as our tongues take from one another, and then I giggle.

“Holy shit,” I mutter when he breaks away from me.

“Bad teacher,” he mocks with laughter in his tone. I swat at him, only he covers my hand, brings my palm to his lips and kisses it. “But you’re so good.” His eyes lock with mine, and we both smile. I feel like a teenager, and I’m behaving like one as well. I’ve just rewritten my high school history as a horny adult.

“I need to get my jacket,” he mutters, bringing us both back to reality. “My keys and all my stuff are in the pockets.”

I nod, realizing how close we were to getting caught and how real it might be if his jacket gets to the wrong person. “Let me handle this.”

Leading him around the building and back to the entrance, I re-enter with my key card and find the jacket on the table where people hand in lost and found items. The A.D. secretary is busy, so I slyly reach for the heavy coat and slip it off the table, feeling relieved that I’m free and clear of all discovery.

Leon waits for me just outside the school doors. I hold out his coat for him. He wraps it around me and tugs me to him as we walk to my car. Once there, he leans his back against the driver’s side door, tugging me between his long, spread legs.

“That was the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” I admit, toying with his T-shirt.

“I’m the one who did it, so don’t feel guilty,” he teases me, knowing he started it, but we both finished. “Now, if you want to fuck me in the library, that would really be reckless and the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

I swat at him. “Oh my God, you did not just say that.”

“I did.” He tips up an eyebrow and gives me a too brief kiss.

“Another time,” I flirt, and he smiles.

“I like the idea of more time,” he says, his voice dropping as he speaks. He doesn’t look at me but reaches up to grab the edges of his jacket, tightening the two halves over my chest. “But I don’t want to be your rebound man.”

The statement surprises me, reminding us both of what Trent called Leon.

“I don’t need promises from you because I know you’re in a holding pattern with the divorce. I just want you to know I’m here for you.” He pauses, and I sense he has more to say.

“Trent didn’t know what he was saying.” Still, Leon’s words don’t sit well with me. I don’t want to bring up the big C-word—commitment—but it would be nice to have someone committed to me. Despite my ten-year marriage, I don’t really know what that’s like. Somewhere along the way, loyalty and dedication fell to the wayside. I’d like to feel the power behind the promise to love, honor, and obey. Not command. Not demand. Not hurt someone else.

“You’re not a rebound.” My lips twist into a slight scowl as I stare at the collar of Leon’s shirt. He’s promised to keep me safe, but maybe telling me he’s not asking for promises means he doesn’t want anything from me. We can fool around, but he doesn’t need anything in return. He doesn’t need commitment from me.

I’m too emotionally raw and out of touch with the reality of dating to know how to respond. Silently, I make promises to myself.