“Are you trying to tell me you want Ahren and not me?” I throw out my challenge, causing her cheeks to darken with a blush that has my palm tingling. “Or is it that you want us both?” Her mouth falls open, plump shimmering lips forming an O that has my zipper tightening.
I read about her little fling not long after her father died. I scanned every piece of evidence I could, learning about her being caught between the two sons of a politician, her father’s competition. But that’s not what got her caught—it was the fucking video one of the guys posted on his social media that had her face plastered across the news. But I have a feeling that’s not the whole story. I will get it out of her, one way or another.
They were all high, tripping on drugs that should’ve put her in the hospital. When I saw the state of her, I knew she believed her father was dead. And that brought her here, to hide from the press, to finish her schooling. She was put back a year, forced to repeat and finally complete her senior year.
However, she’s the daughter of Davenport, which is the reason she’s captured my attention. When I received a folder delivered anonymously, the truth had been in black and white. I already knew who she was, but with concrete evidence of her daddy dearest, I must make my choice—kill her or fuck her.
“I’m sure he told you what I said,” she sasses me. She knows she has surprised me with her fire, but what she doesn’t know is that I’m going to talk to Ahren. I want her. I can’t share her. When he and I first spoke about it, I was convinced it wouldn’t bother me. But it does. Far too much.
“Is that your final answer, little deviant?” My brow arches in question, the words lingering between us before she pulls out a strawberry lollipop she slowly unwraps before taking the ball-shaped sucker and popping it between her plump lips. “I know why you’re here,” I tell her, and for a split-second, I see the fear in her eyes. She knows what I’m talking about, but she shrugs it off. “And I will not allow you to fall into that dark rabbit hole again.”
Arabella pulls the sticky candy from her mouth before asking, “Oh? And what do you think you know about me, Mr. Donati?” Her eyes say one thing, and her mouth says another. Those stormy grays shimmer with concern, with remorse, but those lips taunt me as if she’s enjoying this immensely.
I step closer to her, ensuring there’s no longer space between us. This is dangerous, being so close with the door open, but it only makes my dick harder. The thought of being seen, getting caught, and as her pupils dilate, I can see it turns her on as much as it does me.
I reach for her chin. Gripping it between my thumb and forefinger, I tip her head back, ensuring her pretty, steel gaze is locked on mine. “I think you want to stay back in my class after school. I want that too. Perhaps you should.” I tip my head to the side and lean in farther. Not too close, but close enough so that only she hears my next words. “You’ll shut the door behind you and come to my desk,” I whisper, lowering my voice further. “And when you reach the wooden edge, you’ll bend over it, sliding that tiny fucking skirt up and over your hips until your probably nonexistent panties are visible.”
“What if—”
“Which means you’ll be on display for me. I’ll see your pretty pussy,” I murmur in her face. Leaning in, I capture the lobe of her ear, biting down hard until I elicit the whimper I’ve been craving. Then I allow my lips to feather over her ear, and the scent of her perfume invades my senses. “And if you don’t come to my class, the offer is off the table.”
I turn and walk out of the room, leaving her alone to mull over my words. As much as I know I shouldn’t be doing this, I can’t stop myself from the ache that drives itself through my chest each time she walks into my class and every time she flits those heated orbs over me.
It’s probably best that she doesn’t obey me this afternoon. She should steer clear of me, run in the opposite direction, but something tells me Arabella is not thinking clearly, just like me. By the time I reach my classroom, I find the students already seated, waiting. I’m frazzled. No woman, or girl, has ever had my mind so fucked before, and I’m not sure how to handle it.
However, instead of thinking about her anymore, I flip open the textbook and get into the lesson I planned for today.
She won’t come to the class.
She won’t come to the class.
This is my mantra as I teach. And even though I continue silently replaying it in my mind, I know for a fact it’s a lie.
I glance at the time. It’s almost three, and I have to admit to myself, I’m nervous. A shadow at the threshold of my class has me whipping my head to the side, but I see Principal Dawson standing there.
“Good afternoon, Elian,” he says in a serious tone. “I wanted to chat with you about the new student, Arabella Davenport.” He steps deeper into the room, and my chest tightens at the mention of her name.
“Yes, of course. How can I help you?”
“I just wanted to get your feedback on how you think she’s doing. I saw Arabella with your brother this morning.”
For a moment, I’m stumped that Dawson would question me, but then again, I don’t know if he’s just being a good
