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Beckett
I shiftmy truck into park, planning to go ring the doorbell, but Elouise is already coming out the front door.
For a moment, I’m frozen in place.
She’s just so damn pretty.
Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, her lips are painted a soft pink, and she’s wearing a dress. A fucking dress. The grey material fluttering around her calves. The navy cardigan and little matching shoes making her look every inch the teacher she is. And, god help me, I’ve never wanted to fuck a teacher more in my life.
Gritting my teeth against the urge to drag her back inside by her hair and do just that, I get out and stride around to the passenger door, opening it a moment before she reaches me.
“Hi,” her voice is breathy, and I wonder if she’s having the same thoughts I am.
“Hi,” I take the small purse from her hands and set it on the dashboard. My truck isn’t obnoxiously high, but I still place my hands on her waist under the guise of helping her up.
Thankfully she doesn’t swat my hands away, letting me keep them on her as she climbs up, settling into the seat.
“Thanks,” Elouise bites her lip as she glances over at me.
I don’t know why she’s acting so shy all of a sudden, but I kinda like it.
The skirt of her dress is draped over the side of the seat. It’s not actually in danger of getting shut in the door, but I want the excuse to touch her again. Gently grabbing the material, I slide my fingers under her thigh, tucking in the hem of her dress. It’s a simple movement, but still causes her to draw an inhale. Which draws my attention to her chest and sends a rumble through my own.
Now that she’s up close, all I can see is the low cut of her dress. And fucking hell, her tits look amazing. I want to faceplant into them. Feel that warm soft flesh against my cheek.
“It’s not really fair,” Elouise’s words snap my eyes back up to meet hers.
“What’s not fair?”
“I gave you this to look at,” she dips her chin down, gesturing to her cleavage, “but you’re completely covered.” She presses a hand against my chest.
This minx.
Keeping a straight face, I hold her gaze, “I’ll wear my scoop neck next time.”
Elouise snorts out a laugh and whatever uncomfortableness had been sitting between us melts away.
Unable to resist I lean into the hand she has pressed against my chest and lightly kiss her temple.
I want to linger, but if I don’t step away now, we’ll never make it out of the driveway.
“Watch your hands,” I tell her, stepping back.
When she clasps them in her lap I shut the door.
Back in the driver’s seat, I grip the gear shift but pause. I don’t know why I hadn’t done it before, but I take this moment to try and see us objectively. Me with my usual jeans, scuffed leather work boots, and a black cotton shirt. Elouise looking cute-as-fuck in a dress and coordinated accessories. Me in my twelve-year-old truck, living with my cousin, working part-time at my own company. Elouise owning her own home, working full-time as a teacher, changing the future.
Noticing my delay, Elouise turns in her seat to look at me, “What are you thinking about?”
Not wanting any more secrets, I decide to answer honestly, “I’m thinking that you’re too good for me.”
The way she huffs and rolls her eyes pisses me off. She thinks I’m joking.
I take my hand off the shifter, open my door, climb back out and circle around the front of the truck.
Her eyes dart down to the door lock as I near her.
“Don’t you dare.” I see her consider doing it anyway, but something on my face stops her.
