“I’m your son’steacher,” I repeat more forcefully through the knot forming in my gut. And as much as I love my job—most days—I hate in this circumstance that I am. “And I can’t date a parent. It’s against school policy.”
“Can you fuck one?”
Oh my God.
Memories forcefully flood into my brain of his hands, his lips, the way his blue eyes shimmered with burning desire and lust.
I’ve never had anyone look at me like that before.
And I didn’t want anyone else to.
While I could still feel him for days, I was acutely aware of the line I was treading. That was the way my body veered toward recklessness and endangering my whole mind.
Micah was a gravitational pull.
Not only was he handsome and charming, but he was also funny and a father. A father with a sweet kid who just needed some extra help. A guy who literally made me feel the best I ever had in a span of a night.
He was perfect, physically and verbally, too good almost to believe it.
And I was right.
Because our situation threw a curveball into my plans of seeing him again, but here he is.
Reliable.
True to his word.
Devastatingly killing me with my morals and the rules I’m to abide by.
I’ve replayed having sex in the back of his truck over and over again until I used it as my own personal porn movie in my head when I touched myself at night, thinking of him.
The urge to see him and the excitement of another date were nothing short of the highlight of my year.
Now, that’s dead and gone.
“No,” I say slowly. “However, at the time, I didn’t know that you were?—”
“How about we go back to that?” Then he takes it upon himself to open my storm door and remove the protective layer of wall between us.
I feel the instant pull immediately. The way my body hums in pleasure that he’s back and stayed true to his word that he’d see me again. How I want to throw a whole lot offuck itat my job and go for round two.
“You gonna invite me in, Sienna?”
“I…”
Can’t.
Truthfully, there is nothing more I want to do than allow this man in my house, to touch me and speak all the crazy, dirty things in my ear that he did last week.
It’s a damn miracle that he wasn’t such a creep because I don’t do that. I don’t allow men to flirt shamelessly and fuck me after only knowing each other for a few hours.
My only excuse—and I use that term loosely—is that it was a rough few days. When I caught him staring at me, that cocky smirk on his face that made me feel gorgeous, I thought it was only going to be just that.
I approached him because I had a nice little buzz from too much wine, we talked, he made me laugh, but then he movedforward and kissed me, and my brain and body were on the same page with wanting more.
And more.
And eventually a lot more.
