Sinful

His face turns stormy and dark, almost petulant, showing his lack of years. How could I have not seen it then? “It didn’t seem to bother you at the time.”

“Romain, please?” I say, suddenly exasperated.

“Don’t worry, I’m in my final year,” he says as if that makes what we did any better.

I gnaw my lip again. “So that makes you….”

He smiles. “Old enough to be legal when we fucked.”

Not underage. Thank God. But all I can say is, “Shit.” I don’t know how this makes it worse, but it does.

Romain laughs, his eyes searing into me where I stand as he leans forward and his warm breath tickles my neck, causing my heart to thud in my chest. He smells the same, like temptation and dark promises. I stay there, caught in his spell until I remember where I am and jerk back.

“Don’t worry, Arabella, or Blake, or whatever your fucking name is. Your secret is safe with me,” he drawls.

I look down at the ornate tiles on the ground, staring at the gold fleur de lis in one particular area because I can’t look at him anymore. Romain laughs softly. Finally, I manage to force myself to glance up. When I see his face, my whole body warms. There’s already a blush staining my cold cheeks, which has spread to the rest of me, making me hot and breathless.

This can’t be happening.

Having him here is the last thing I need.

“Miss James?” I whip my head around. Helen Huntingford, the deputy head and the one who interviewed me for the job, is standing just inside the gates. “There you are. I was just about to send a search party.”

Full of shame, like she can see the stain of what I’ve done, I quickly turn back to where Romain is. Or was.

He’s gone.

Only the swinging of the building’s side entrance door as it closes tells me he was real.

“This place can bea bit daunting in your first week.”

I don’t dispute her words. Although, that’s too nice a word. I can think of a better one. Malicious. Intimidating. Dangerous. Even now, it’s early in the morning, and the inner hallways are in utter chaos. Male students are everywhere, reminding me of Romain—crowding around lockers, talking shit, shooting me dark looks, laughing menacingly. All of them eye me like a piece of meat as I walk past.

I recoil away, almost bumping into Helen.

“Miss James?”

I need to rise above this, snap out of it. I can figure Romain out later. He wasn’t underage, and he wasn’t my student when I slept with him. No one knows what happened except for my parents. That’s got to count for something, right?

But what if he’s told someone?

Suddenly, I feel cold, exposed. Every student is looking at me with one thing on their mind. One of them catches me looking and adjusts the bulge of his trousers. I look away.

“Are they always like this?” I ask her quickly, hyper-aware of how short my pencil skirt is. I should have worn loose trousers like Helen.

“You’re new, and they’re horny bastards. Ignore them,” Helen says, looking at me. She suddenly turns her head. “Carter Blackwood!” she barks across the room. A guy three times as big as her freezes, obviously about to throw a rugby ball across the length of the corridor.

“Ah, sorry, Miss. Didn’t see you there,” he says sheepishly. He grins at me and gives her a mock salute, practically eye fucking me as we pass by.

I can’t help but stare at him. He’s tall, dark, and gorgeous too. He’s like no student I’ve ever met. Why are all the boys here so good-looking and older-looking?

As we walk, Helen sucks in a breath when she catches me staring before shaking her head.

“What?” I ask.

“I forgot how young you look. And you might just be too pretty for this school. Did you say you were married?”

“No, but—”