Planning a sexy surprise for her boyfriend one night, Jenny Carter doesn’t double check who she just grabbed in the dark, and in one big mistake ends up seducing her high school Math teacher, Mr. Smith. Trying to deny the out of bounds attraction she just sparked between them turns out to be futile. The consequences for being caught would destroy their lives. Teacher and student will have to decide what to do about their intense and forbidden romance, and the love growing wild in their hearts. Conventional wisdom says that if you love something, you should let it go, but nothing about their love is conventional.
The author does not endorse or promote sexual relationships between teachers and students. This is strictly a work of fiction and in no way an endorsement of seducing an actual educator. The first chapter of this book contains a plot device that would never exist in real life, that any teachers reading will catch immediately—an unlocked door after hours at a high school.
A wavering shadow passed for an instant in front of the tiny smoked glass window in the door to Mr. Smith’s room, and it made him jolt in his chair.
He glanced up at the clock, surprised to see it was already past seven, and tried to force his heart back down from his throat. Busy grading essays, he hadn’t even noticed how dark the sky had become.
As he rose out of his rolling desk chair curiosity got the better of his caution. Who was wandering around the deserted high school at night? And, even more important, why?
He poked his head out just in time to catch a glimpse of the door to the girls’ locker room closing at the end of the unlit hallway.
There was no sound but his footsteps clicking on the shiny tile floor as he walked. He was more than ready to catch whoever it was that had scared him. One quick yank opened the thick metal door.
He stepped inside, only to see a skinny figure ducking around the corner, towards the back of the cavernous locker room, and Mrs. Pinelli’s office. A ghost of a scent, the mixture of shampoo and too much body spray, floated in the air as he stalked towards the back corner. He had to take care in this gloom to avoid the thick wooden benches bolted to the floor.
Intrigued now, he strode towards the figure and was relieved to find that he recognized it. The figure was David Cruz, the tall, lean, long-haired, punk skater who was currently dating or had a crush on…who is it now? Jenny Carter, the quiet, forgettable A-student in my Senior AP Math class. Odd pairing.
David must have heard his footsteps because he whirled around, looking like a vegan who had just been caught chowing down on an all-meat-special pizza.
Trying not to smirk, Mr. Smith demanded, “What’s going on here?”
“I-I was just―I left something—” David stuttered.
Mr. Smith interrupted, “In Mrs. Pinelli’s office? In the girls’ locker room? I doubt it. Right now, it is definitely not school hours. So you should not be at school. Go home, Mr. Cruz.”
David spluttered out a few more excuses, but he slunk away without trying to argue any further. Was he imagining it? Or did David look—relieved? Mr. Smith watched with his arms folded across his chest and thick brows pulled down until David was gone. What had David been coming in here to do? It was obvious it had something to do with Carolyn’s office since the rest of the locker room was visible and very empty. But what?
Her office should have been locked right now. It was true that she was out and about more than in the office, shouting students into action on the field or in the gym. She was notorious for forgetting to lock her office door. He rolled his eyes, thinking of the gossip. Wasn’t it last year one of the students had stashed a stolen laptop in her desk? It had been pure luck that it had been found.
Had David been trying to steal something? Hide something? Meet someone to do whatever weird thing teenagers could be up to, at night, in an empty school? He snorted as he walked over to try getting into the office. It was so late, and his time would be better spent locking up and going home. But he did have a responsibility to make sure nothing had been secreted away in his co-worker’s office. The old-fashioned brass doorknob was cold, smooth against his palm as he turned it, opened the door and stepped through.
The transition from faint gloom to pitch dark left him blinking back temporary blindness. He jumped when someone grabbed his wrist and dragged him in.
The click of the lock was loud behind him as he was propelled towards the one hard-backed chair in the room. It hit the back of his knees, and he was so stunned he let himself sit down. He tried to force his eyes to adjust. The barest trace of light snuck in where the thick metal door met the floor. It wasn’t enough.
When he opened his mouth to roar for an explanation, soft lips covered his in a kiss. What the hell?
Weight came to rest on his lap and he realized that it was a person, along with the discovery that the person was an exceptional kisser.
Who-what in the hell?
Whoever it was they rubbed against him as they shifted to reach for the buttons on his shirt. His body reacted instantly, without his approval, coming to attention.
This could be anyone! Why did the thought excite him? It should have horrified him.
As the soft mouth released his he drew in a deep breath, to shout, and demand that this person get off him and tell him what the hell they thought they were doing. Of course it was for that.
Then that clever mouth latched onto his earlobe, and soft breath at his ear trickled delicious tingles down his spine. Somehow, while he had been distracted, most of the buttons on his button-down chambray shirt had come undone.
Slender hands stroked up and down his arms, grasping his wrists with a light touch. Something about that touch seemed strange. Those hands seemed rougher on his wrists somehow. There weren’t many extra brain cells to waste on trying to solve the mystery—not when the rest of him was so focused on those soft kisses.
In between kissing his earlobe and his neck, and using little bites here and there, she murmured, “What took you so long? I thought you were never going to get here. And I’m so ready for you.”
The voice was low and husky, female, full of desire, and it was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it, yet. Vice Principal Johnson? She’s never even looked at me twice in the hallway. Another co-worker? Not one of them has any reason to be hiding in Mrs. Pinelli’s office in ambush at seven on a school night. Mrs. Pinelli? Please, Jesus, not Mrs. Pinelli.