Lessons in Corruption (The Fallen Men 1)

But reality had come crashing into my daydreams in a very real way just hours earlier and I just could not deal with declarations and possibilities that hung just outside my reach like Eve’s glistening apple.

“I had a really bad day today, King,” I admitted softly right up against his lips, which was somehow so much more intimate than just kissing him. “I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I can’t be who you want me to be to you. But this afternoon, after a really really bad day, all I wanted was to be here with you.”

There was a brief silence where our breaths tangled hot and intertwined between our open lips. I wanted to know what he was thinking, wanted to ask him if he was crazy and if I was crazier for embracing in the freaking library when we both needed to stay at EBA in a very real way, if we were delusional the way Eve and Satan were, for thinking that we could alter our reality to suit our desires.

Instead, I twined my fingers in his golden curls and gently pulled him to me, groaning into his mouth when his fingers flexed hard on my hips.

“Cressida?” Harry Reynard’s lilting British voice echoed through the rows of books. “You still in here? I bloody hope so because your purse is still in my office. If you’re back there reading come out and grab it, I need to lock the door and go home.”

I froze but King only buried his face in my hair and chuckled softly.

“Holding a wooden plank in my hands instead of the woman I brought back here,” he teased.

“Shut up and get off me,” I whispered harshly, shoving at his shoulder.

He continued to laugh but let me go.

As I straightened my clothes, I told him how things would go. “Okay, I’ll head out first and distract Harry while you sneak out…” I trailed off when I looked up to see King no longer in front of me.

“Gosh freaking darn it,” I mumbled, smoothing my hair frantically before making my way silently through the stacks.

When I got closer to the sitting area and the office, I heard male voices laughing.

“Yeah, Mr. R, what can I say, you know how I get when I’m readin’,” King was saying.

I peeked around the corner to see him leaning against the door to the office, blocking my view of Harry.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone who could read through an apocalypse, King, but if anyone could do it, it would be you,” Harry replied.

King shrugged. “You grow up readin’ in a loud, smelly, hot garage and you learn to shut shit out.”

“I imagine so,” Harry laughed.

It was clear to me that the two were well acquainted, which was interesting because Harry was the full-time librarian and didn’t teach any classes. If they were close, it meant that King spent an inordinate amount of time in Entrance Bay Academy’s two-story haven of books. For some reason that insight made my heart palpitate painfully.

“I heard you say Miss Irons left her stuff behind, do you want me to drop it by her classroom on my way to the parking lot?” King offered innocently.

“Would you mind? My wife gets a tad frustrated with me when I’m late for dinner since I’m the one who insists on eating so early.”

“’S no problem,” King said, heading into the office.

I took the opportunity as it was meant and snuck out of the office. I didn’t go back to my classroom, which was already locked up for the day because I was a coward and I couldn’t face seeing King again. I had a spare set of keys to the cabin in a little hollow alligator sculpture I kept by the front door and my car was still in the shop so, as I’d been doing for the last two weeks, I began the forty-five minute walk home.

I was passing along Main Street, enjoying the way the blossoms had begun to coat the streets like spring snow banks, when the roar of a motorcycle disturbed my thoughts. It wasn’t exactly a surprise when I turned around to watch it pull up beside me but it was when a man other than King emerged from the helmet.

He could have been a model. In fact, if he wasn’t, it was a criminal offense to women all over the world that he kept a face that pretty off of magazine covers and advertisements. Despite the full sleeve tattoos and the unmistakable Fallen MC cut, the guy was all prettiness with eyelashes like mink fur and gorgeous wavy brown hair he kept cropped short at the sides and overlong at the top.

Even before he opened his mouth, I knew he’d have a good voice, unfairly melodic for a man. “Cressida Irons, sup, girl?”