“What?”
He glances down at my lips and I have to lick them under his scrutiny. “That I get to do more.”
“More what?”
He looks up at my question, his eyes turned dark in a split second. “More than kissing.”
Lightning flashes again and lights up the room, which makes me realize that it has gone dark. That the black clouds have overtaken the sky and turned it all gray and menacing.
Exactly like he’s done.
Exactly like how his rough words and his black eyes have suddenly turned this principal’s office into some kind of an underground lair.
So much so that despite myself, I lean further back and whisper with wide eyes, “What’s more than kissing?”
He notices my fear — God, does he — and that plush mouth of his pulls up in a small smirk that hits me right in my belly. And it hits me so hard that I clench it and grip the desk even harder so I don’t fall down.
Although I don’t think he’ll let me go anywhere.
I think he’ll pull me back, give me some anchor to hold on to so I stay here.
Where he wants me.
And I’m proven correct in the next breath when he steps even closer to me and really gives me something to hold on to.
His thighs.
His powerful, muscular thighs that he settles between my spread ones, opening them up further. And like a magnet, my limbs attach themselves to his. My thighs go flush with his and hold on.
The very first touch between us. Or rather the very first intimate touch between us.
It should feel wrong.
It should feel inappropriate for so many, many reasons. I didn’t even want to touch him.
But it doesn’t.
“What’s more than kissing, Poe,” he rasps, making me dig my heels in his thighs harder, “is fucking.”
I lose my balance then.
Or at least it feels like it.
That my stomach bottoms out, my heart tips and I’m free falling, and my hands fly away from the desk and grab his tweed jacket to find purchase.
But in reality, I’m here.
I’m sitting on his desk, my thighs wrapped around his body. And he’s right in front of me, leaning over.
So clear, so close.
So much so that if he comes any closer, our eyelashes will tangle with each other.
Our noses will bump.
And God, my fucking God, if they do, if our noses bump against each other, I’m going to kiss it.
I know I’m going to kiss that little imperfection on his nose. I’m also going to lick it.
I have to.
“F-fucking,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he says, his breath wafting over my mouth. “You know what that is, don’t you?”
I taste his scent on my tongue. “Yes.”
“Yeah, I figured. Since you talk about it a lot.”
“I —”
“Which makes me think that you must be really hard up for it.”
“I’m not.”
“No?”
I grip his jacket tighter. “No.”
He takes in my face with glinting eyes. “Liar.” Then, before I can say anything to that he whispers, “Poor little Poe. Can’t stop lying, can she?”
It makes my body jerk.
His words, both tender and derogatory, make me arch up against him even more. “But you…”
“But I what?”
I draw in a hiccupping breath. “You can’t fuck me. You can’t.”
His eyes flash. “You should’ve thought of that when you asked the devil to kiss you. Because a kiss is never just a kiss.” He inches ever so close and I swear the tips of our noses touch. “At least, a kiss is never just a kiss, Poe, when I’m kissing you. So too late now. You’re also getting your first fuck before I let you walk out that door.”
“But it’s wrong,” I say, shaking my head vehemently.
“Yeah? Why?”
I can’t think of a reason.
Why can’t I think of a reason?
I know there are a million reasons why he can’t. I knew them all just a moment ago.
But for the life of me, I can’t think of a single one right now. And the fact that I’m clinging to him like he’s my lifeline is not helping.
“Because you’re my guardian,” I blurt out then, the first thing that comes into my head.
Even though as I say it, I know I really don’t care.
Who cares?
His eyes flash again. “You’re eighteen now, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
“So you don’t need a guardian,” he rumbles. “Do you?”
“No.”
“So problem solved then.”
“You’re also my principal,” I say next, again knowing that it doesn’t matter to me.
Not at all.
Why doesn’t it matter?
What the fuck, Poe?
Why doesn’t anything matter right now, except him and his eyes and his words and his scent and heat.
“Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slightly. “That could be a problem.”
I tighten my thighs around him as if I don’t want him to move away. “It c-could?”
“Uh-huh. You don’t think so?”
No.
That’s the first thing my brain screams.
But my mouth is still catching up and all that comes out is some sputtering and stumbling that even I can’t make any sense of right now. “I’m… I-I… You —”