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I walk around the front of his desk and sit. His eyes fall on my thighs, which are dangerously close to touching his leg. He stands up and smooths his hair. I love seeing him so worked up, although I wish he’d just drop it with this nice-teacher routine. I know he wants me, and even though my plan isn’t to fall for him, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him, too.
“Something wrong, Mr. Bain?” I ask, my voice coy. Raising my arm to run my fingers through my hair, the cool air hits my exposed stomach.
He turns around and stares at me. His eyes are glued to my flesh. I smile. So, we’re playing that game now, are we?
“This needs to stop.”
“Really? But we’ve barely even begun.” I pluck one of the buttons on my shirt loose, pulling it back slightly to reveal the pale pink bra I’m wearing. His eyes zero in on my breasts, only to turn away abruptly.
“Nothing should’ve happened in the first place, Zara. I’m sorry that I let you down. I’m your teacher. I’m supposed to know better.”
“Right,” I say, slipping off the desk. He tenses as I near him. I have him against the wall and I don’t plan on letting up just yet. He glances at the door and I laugh. “Are you worried? Afraid you can’t control yourself around me?”
I step closer. He swallows and lets out a groan as my hand brushes past his crotch. I tilt my head and kiss his neck, my hand creeping inside his slacks. Gently, I close my fingers around his length, my fist slowly riding up his shaft.
“God,” he gasps. His eyes close as the back of his head rests against the wall. He continues to grow in my grip, pumping his hips toward me against his will. Pressing my body closer to his, just to rub my breasts across his chest. “Zara, stop.” His fingers grab my wrist.
“What?” I pout, not loosening my grip. My tongue snaking out to lick the stubble on his jaw.
“We’re not doing this.” His voice strains as he closes his eyes and gasps.
“Seems to me like we are,” I tease, slowly dropping to my knees. His hands come down on my shoulders, the look on his face screaming that he doesn’t want to blur the lines. Staring up at him, I see his expression is pained, as if he really does want this but knows the consequences if anyone finds out. Keeping my gaze fixed on his, I wrestle his pants down below his balls and his erection springs free. I carefully lick the tip, swirling my tongue around his swollen head. “You really want me to stop? I mean, I can if you really want me to.” I take as much of him as my mouth will let me and slowly suck while he relaxes in front of me.
“God…” His fingers lace around my hair and he yanks me off his cock. I can’t help but giggle. “You need to stop with the fucking games, Zara. This ends here. Are we clear?”
“Games?” I chuckle. “You can’t keep your eyes—or your hands—off me. And I’m the one playing? See you later, Mr. Bain.”
I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder and walk to the door, not looking back. That could not have gone better if I’d planned it. Hell, what am I saying? I did plan it.
—
“Going somewhere?”
Dillon picks up his keys and kisses my forehead.
“Basketball with the guys. I’ll be home late.”
Of course. Every night is guys’ night for Dillon. I can’t remember the last time we spent an evening together that wasn’t in front of the television or studying. I don’t think it’d be asking for too much of him to set aside one night just for us. Even though I’m not as into our relationship as I used to be, he has to get that. If he really loved me, wouldn’t he want to fix it? Put in some effort? I know Karly’s death put some distance between us, but hell, he doesn’t pay me any attention unless he wants to get laid or needs someone to cook dinner. I think it’s fair to say we’re both just going through the motions at this point. It’s actually really sad. But who can I blame? Both of us, that’s who.
We’re together because it’s comfortable, because we’re not ready to have the conversation that I think we both know is coming. Maybe part of it is I’m not ready to let go because he’s my only link to Karly. He represents a time when life was great and I was happy.
I sigh and reach for the phone to order some takeout. The last thing I feel like doing is cooking. I look up the number for Roberto’s and order some carryout for dinner. The thought of cooking a full meal for one is more depressing than ordering out. I haven’t been there in years, but it’s the only restaurant I know off the top of my head.
The drive to Roberto’s is less than five minutes. I could’ve walked it, but let’s face it, fitness isn’t exactly my forte. Thank God I was able to score the job at the diner, across the street from the gym, that Dillon wanted me to work at—something about knowing the manager and hot chicks drawing in a crowd. The diner is a better fit for me anyway: people-watching and all. Having something other than my life to focus on keeps my mind somewhat stable.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw Noah walking from the gym to the diner. Though it shouldn’t have shocked me, being that it’s the only gym in town. It’s obvious from his toned, ripped body that he works out. It was him coming to my place of employment that shocked me. If he keeps doing all of this, which only makes my job easier, I’m not going to be able to take credit for wrecking him, he’ll have done all the work himself. I just happen to be in the right spot at the right time.
A shiver races through my body. What the hell was that? Arousal? I’m caught off guard, because that is not something I expect to be feeling when I think about him. Sure, he’s hot—sexy, even—but he’s an asshole. A monster who preys on vulnerable girls. That was anything but attractive. But his slightly messy bed head and light blue eyes keep distracting me.
I walk inside Roberto’s and wait at the register for my order. I survey the room, surprised to see it’s quite full, especially for a weeknight. My gaze falls on a table near the rear of the restaurant.
He’s here. With his girlfriend. My heart begins to pound as I watch them interact. He hasn’t seen me yet, so I duck behind a wooden beam so I can observe them. They’re arguing. A smile spreads across my lips as I watch her throw her arms up, frustrated. She scoots back her chair and stomps off. My eyes widen when I realize she’s headed in my direction.
She moves past me and into the bathrooms near the front exit. Without thinking, I follow her in. She stands at the sinks, wiping away tears. Her eyes meet mine briefly before she looks away, embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, plastering a concerned look on my face.
She smiles and nods.
