Sweet Dandelion

“Dani?” His eyes widen with concern.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and go against everything inside me that says I shouldn’t do this, instead listening to the part that’s inexplicably drawn to a man I can’t have.

My hand wraps around the back of his neck, feeling the short dark hair at the base of his skull. He freezes. I don’t miss the catch in his breath or the war in his eyes.

But I don’t let the battle begin, because I know once it does this won’t happen, and God I need it to happen more than I need my next breath.

I lean over, closing the short distance between us. The peppermint on his tongue permeates the air and I lick my bottom lip before I press my lips to his. My mouth tingles from the taste of him. He doesn’t move at first, but then a manly growl echoes in his throat. His long strong fingers tangle in my hair. His hold is tight enough to hurt, but isn’t painful. His tongue finds mine and that minty taste is everywhere.

I’ve never been kissed like this before. It’s a ravaging more than a kiss, like he’s a knight claiming his bounty. His stubble burns my cheeks, but I don’t mind the sting—it’s a welcome reminder that this is real, I’m kissing Lachlan, but more importantly he’s kissing me back.

Heat tingles up my spine, and I climb to my knees, wrapping both my arms around him, pressing my body into his. His hands move to my waist, bunching in the fabric. He’s still kneeling on the ground, and I love the leverage I have above him from my perch on the bed. Like he’s mine to take.

I don’t think I

’ve ever wanted anything or anyone the way I want Lachlan Taylor.

Mr. Taylor.

My counselor.

My fucking school guidance counselor.

Logic is a fickle beast when it’s your heart on the line.

Why him? Why out of every human being on the planet has my heart decided to beat for him? I’m not even sure it’s love I feel, that seems too silly. I don’t know him like that. But the connection can’t be denied. It exists and it demands to be felt. He feels it too. He tries not to, but I see the battle raging within him. We’re both, whether we want to admit it or not, walking a thin line.

Tonight, it has snapped.

He pulls away suddenly, turning his head to the side. I feel cold all over from the loss of his touch. That muscle in his jaw twitches and his fists fall to his sides, clenched tight, the veins roping up his arm stand out sharply.

I fall back, my butt resting on my feet. “Lachlan, that was—”

He won’t look at me, his voice is a taut wire. “That can’t happen again, Dani. Ever.”

“Lachlan—” I try to reach for him, but he stands up, stumbling a couple of feet back.

He reluctantly meets my gaze for one second before his eyes drop to the ground.

“I’m sorry. That should’ve never happened. I’m,” he bites his lip hard, “I’m your fucking counselor. It can’t happen again. Ever.” He sounds pissed. At me? Himself? Both of us? I don’t know. “You’re … fuck, you’re a student. You shouldn’t even be here. In my bed.” He waves a hand forcefully at me. “Fuck.” He scrubs his hands down his face, his palms rasping against his stubble. “You’re drunk,” he rambles, “and I kissed you. I fucking kissed a student.”

“I kissed you,” I whisper softly, suddenly feeling unsure of myself.

His eyes narrow on me. Those normally bright blue hues look black in his dark bedroom. “I’m an adult, Dani. I shouldn’t have let it happen.” He growls out the last words. Running his fingers through his hair that was previously mussed by me, he drops his hands to his sides. “You’re drunk and I should’ve stopped you.” He looks at me brokenly, so completely ashamed of himself.

I want to open my mouth to tell him not to feel that way.

“You’re drunk,” he repeats. “You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, but I will.” He storms from the room, anger radiating off his body.

Zeppelin lifts his head, sniffing at the air but doesn’t jump down to follow his master. He rests his big head back on his paws and closes his eyes.

I look out the now open door through the darkened hallway, to somewhere beyond where Lachlan is undoubtedly battling with himself.

I won’t tell him, because I know it won’t make him feel any better.

But after all these hours, I’m perfectly sober.

Chapter Twenty-Seven