“Arabella has been in trouble before as you read in her file, she’s … somewhat of a loose cannon. I just wanted to make sure that she wasn’t doing anything that could land her in the sheriff’s office. She’s eighteen now, so that would be a serious offense on her part.”
I push to my feet, needing to defend her. As much as she taunts me, I am almost certain she’s not doing anything stupid to get herself in trouble with the law. “I can talk to her,” I tell him. “I actually have a meeting with her this afternoon.” Lie. It’s all lies. A meeting with her is nothing more than a way to see if our attraction is more than a game.
“Thank you,” he says. “That would be good. Even if you were to say, take her under your wing. Keep an eye on her. She’s a good girl. Her aunt is convinced she has potential. She just needs the right guidance.”
“I would be happy to help,” I tell him earnestly as the door creaks, and I see the pretty girl in question on the threshold of her doom. A smile tilts my lips as I take in her wide eyes that flit between the principal and me. “Come in, Arabella,” I call to her, waiting for her reaction.
For a second, she seems tentative, but swallows it back and strolls inside with confidence in every stride. She stops at my desk, her eyes on mine.
“Hello, sir. Hello, Mr. Dawson,” she greets us both, the wobble in her voice the only evidence that she’s unsure of what my plan for her is. I told her to come in here, bend over my desk, and pull her skirt up, but with Dawson here, she seems far too wary.
“I will let you both get to your meeting. Arabella, as always, it’s lovely to see you.” Dawson shakes my hand before he disappears, and I’m left with my pretty sunshine.
“You can close the door,” I tell her, gesturing with my chin toward it. Arabella stares at me for a moment before she turns and strides over to the exit. With a soft click, we’re alone. The silence is deafening as we stand at a safe distance.
Arabella turns to me, her eyes tracking me like a huntress stalking her prey. When she reaches my gaze, she smiles. “I thought you and Ahren were into threesomes or some shit,” she tells me. The girl has fire, and I’m determined to get burned.
“When you’re here, alone with me, you will obey me,” I respond, ignoring her comment. “Are you ready to play this game?”
“Illicit games with Mr. Donati,” she muses, tapping her index finger on her plump, glossy lips. “Let me think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about. The moment you accepted my offer was when you walked through that door,” I say. “And you know for a fact you want this.”
Amusement dances in her eyes. “I can’t deny that I’m attracted to you,” she acquiesces. “But then, do you really want me? Or am I just a distraction from your boring teacher life?”
“Why don’t you pull that skirt up and show me what you want me to take and then we’ll find out?” I tip my chin toward my desk with a grin creasing my usually serious expression.
Arabella strolls toward me, stopping inches away. “What are the rules of the game?” she whispers along my lips, which sends hot lava trickling through me.
I reach up with both hands, one grabbing her ponytail, the other her hip, and I tug her against me, forcing a gasp to tumble from that glossy mouth.
Wrong.
This is wrong.
But fuck it, she wants me. I’ll give her everything she desires.
16
Arabella
“This is a secret. While you’re my student, nobody can know about us,” he tells me.
“A dirty secret,” I test him, feeling every hard inch of him pressed against me. “Perhaps you should tell me more about what this entails,” I whisper as I feel him throb. I can feel the warmth of him on my front, his lips a hair’s breadth from mine. I want him to kiss me. I want to get lost in him.
He releases my hair when he tugs the tie and undoes the braid, allowing my golden locks to fall to the middle of my back. I may look the innocent angel, but I’m far from it. The polar opposite actually. There’s a slight hint of a smile that graces his full lips. The ache I had the moment I laid eyes on him is back.
He lifts his hand, slow and meticulous. “Such pretty golden hair,” he says. “Like the sun.”
“What if I’m not the sun? What if I’m the moon? I only shine in the darkness,” I challenge with a whispered plea for him to do more than just tangle a lock of hair around his finger.
“Before I read your file, I may have disagreed,” he says. “But I believe you do glow within the murkiness that surrounds you.” I’ve always felt more at ease in the dark. The bright lights have been blinding all my life. My father, a senator, and my mother, his secretary, were always watched. Bodyguards and media, along with the people who believed in my father. I grew up with the proverbial silver spoon, and I only spat it out the night it all came crashing down.
Stupidity took me to that party, and my choices ensured I was caught. But right now, I once again fight this raging war where one part of me is screaming for me to walk away from Elian Donati and never look back. But it’s the other part, that dark, sinister corner of my soul that eases
