Bad Teacher

I don’t even know what to do with that statement. But my body does because it goes from hot to cold, then back to hot in a flash.

I don’t know why, but I have the sudden urge to flee, so I do. I grab all my things and attempt to put them away, but the moment I reach for the contract, he grabs my wrist instead.

“Wait. Don’t go.” He glances at my wrist, then immediately releases me when he realizes he’s keeping me locked in place. “Sorry, I just …” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to apologize for the way I left you alone at the club. It was just that someone almost recognized me, and I didn’t want to risk it. The press is always following me everywhere.”

I nod. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t have done anything with you if I’d known you were royalty.” That’s probably a lie, but admitting the truth could get me in a world of trouble I don’t wanna be in right now.

He makes a face. “Really? Because I could’ve sworn you were enjoying yourself thoroughly in the bathroom … and that you’re still angry I left you hanging.” He comes closer. So close, I can smell his intoxicating cologne. The same cologne he wore that night at the club. The memories of our lips and bodies melding together come rushing back. And oh boy, what I wouldn’t give for another kiss … and for his cock to fill me up again. But that would be wrong … so wrong.

He’s the prince, and I’m his designer. It’s forbidden. Explicitly. It says so right in the contract. I’m not supposed to enter into a relationship with any royal whatsoever. Just work-related talk, and that’s it.

I swallow away the lump in my throat. “I’m not angry.”

“Of course, you aren’t,” he says with a smug smile. “But I still wanted you to know that I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly, and that I intend to make it up to you.” He grabs my hand and kisses the top. “Miss Maya.”

I quickly pull my hand back because it feels too good to say no. But I should. I definitely should, considering I could go to jail for this. Also, he’s a fucking prince. A dozen girls are lined up outside, waiting for him to pick one of them.

Why would he be interested in me?

I’m probably just another one of his conquests. A girl he fucked, another one to add to his collection. Once was enough. I’m not willing to be a part of his ego trip.

“Why?” I ask, holding my things close to me as if they’d provide any sort of protection against the seductiveness that embodies him. Just the way he presents himself, oozing with sex, makes my legs shake. But I can’t give in. Not again. Not now that I know who he really is.

“Because I like you,” he says as I tread backward toward the door. “And I think you like me too.”

Somehow, seemingly out of nowhere, the image of his huge dick flashes through my mind, and for a second there, I wonder how much more pleasure it could give me.

I can’t think of this. Not now. Not again.

I shake my head. “Just because I was interested at the club doesn’t mean I am now.”

“Really?” he muses with a tempting half-smile. “I beg to differ. I saw you looking at me when I stepped out of the tub.”

“There was hardly any other place to look,” I retort. “And you made it incredibly hard to look away with that entrance.”

“Or maybe you’re just finding it really hard not to think about me …”

I bump into the door, and he places his hands right beside me against the wood, trapping me inside.

I’m stammering. “If I’d known at the club I was meeting you today, I wouldn’t have ever—”

He places a finger on my lips. “I don’t believe that.”

“It’s the truth,” I say through gritted teeth as if that makes it any bit more believable.

He smirks. “Hmm …” Then he pulls away from the door.

I can breathe again. But I’m not sure how I feel about that because it’s suddenly oddly empty around me.

“You’re the first to say that,” he says.

I snort. “Sounds like a lie. Girls are waiting in line for you. I saw them kiss you outside near your car.”

“No, they’re standing in line for the prince,” he says, settling his direct gaze on me. “But you weren’t. You didn’t even know it was me.”

I suck in a breath, unsure of what to say.

I’m not sure what any of this means. This moment. Our meeting. The way everything went. And by God … the chances of it all happening.

So I say the only thing that makes sense right now. My only sense of security in a foreign country where I know nothing of the people, the customs, or the dangers that come with having fucked the prince.