The Secret (Winslow Brothers 3)

The class whines and howls at large, and I hold up another hand to silence them. When the hand doesn’t do it, I put my fingers to my mouth and let go with a piercing whistle.

“Yo! Everyone calm down. I’m not done.” Those three words finally quiet them down enough to hear myself think, and I steal a quick glance at Rachel as the room settles. She’s smiling widely, looking as beautiful and vibrant as I’ve ever seen her. I look back to the class. “Now, that wasn’t the correct answer, Landon, but it was close enough that I’m starting to think you just might have gotten into NYU for some reason other than a rich uncle on the board.”

Landon’s eyebrows pull together as he asks, “You know my uncle?”

I shake my head. No, Landon, no.

He chuckles. “I didn’t think so. He’s not really a school kind of guy. My dad, though, my dad’s way up NYU’s ass. The great Carl Conrad,” he expands in a mocking, annoyed voice. “Mr. Big Shot Manhattan Lawyer of the rich and famous.”

I definitely know the name. Hell, most of New York has seen that name on billboards. But I don’t give a shit about this kid’s dad, big shot or not. All I care about is Landon.

“You’re smart, Landon. You’ve got what it takes. You just need to apply yourself.”

“But then I’d be doing exactly what my father wants me to do.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Rachel mutters a little too loudly, and both Landon and I look over at her. Her gaze is still fixated on her laptop, but after a few seconds, she looks up and realizes the attention is on her.

She cringes. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” Landon nods with a big-ass smile. “You got daddy issues too?”

“Well…” Rachel sighs and takes off her blue light glasses. “This conversation isn’t about me. I’m not important here.”

When I realize how strongly she wishes she could burrow a hole straight to China, I smile and glance at my watch. It’s time to dismiss class—and lucky for Rachel, that also means it’s time to let her off the hook.

“Okay, guys. That’s it for today.”

Everyone jumps up out of their seats, but I raise my voice one more time to get their attention.

“Before you go, though… For another chance at that one-week essay extension…” Everyone quiets immediately. “Who else can tell me the last name I’m looking for?”

Dozens of hands shoot up like rockets, and I smile broadly. Young minds are shaping; lifelong readers are forming. Goddamn, I live for this shit.

“Okay, then, let’s all say it together, shall we?”

I put up three fingers to count down, removing one at a time until none are left. When I get to the moment of truth, practically the whole class shouts, “Earnshaw!”

My grin is huge as I hop down from the top of my desk and pretend to swing an imaginary baseball bat. “Home runnnnn!” I call dramatically into the large space, starting up a run and high-fiving all the students in the front row. “Looks like you get an extension after all!” I shout, and they all erupt in happy cheers.

I stop in front of Rachel and yell once more. “Get out of here!”

Afraid, perhaps, that I’ll change my mind, no one wastes any time before they bolt for the door.

Rachel smiles up at me over her laptop from her seat, and I’ll be damned if I can turn away.

My eyes flit down her body, taking inventory of every beautiful aspect that is her. The way her shiny brown hair hangs down her shoulders, her parted lips, her elongated neck, her full breasts, and the way her legs peek out from beneath her skirt.

Well, hell.

Somehow, I’ve survived four days without touching Rachel, kissing Rachel, putting my mouth on Rachel’s sweet, sweet pussy, but these last fifteen seconds feel like a lifetime.

This one week of being good is for the fucking birds. How the hell do I still have more than a day to go?

Fuck. I have to do something to relieve some of this pent-up frustration or else I fear I might explode.

She shuts her laptop and bends down to tuck it into her bag. The movement plumps her breasts, and they’re practically spilling out of the neckline of her top.

That’s the moment I decide to throw caution to the wind. So what if I break the rules? I’ve been going against the grain of authority my entire life.

Walking away from Rachel and over to the door, I wait until the last student leaves the class to shut the door and engage the lock.

Rachel is standing near my desk now, her messenger bag over her shoulder and her head tilted in curiosity. Why in the hell are you trapping me in here, Ty? her pretty, glittering eyes ask.