Illicit: A Novel

by Ava Harrison

  “Free period.”

  He runs a hand through his hair and then meets my gaze. His stare penetrates me and makes my whole body shiver. “Close the door. And Lynn . . . lock it.” A shiver runs down my spine.

  I continue to look at him from under hooded lids. With slow steps, I make my way to the door and close it. The adrenaline coursing through my veins is intoxicating. I’m drunk with it.

  “Stop fucking me with your eyes,” he growls.

  I’m not sure who this man is right now, but I would be remiss to say I wasn’t turned on by his authoritative tone.

  “Come here,” he orders.

  Maybe I’m cliché, but there is something hot about a teacher like him bossing me around. I saunter over, making sure to swing my hips seductively. From his heated stare, I know it’s working.

  “Why are you torturing me? Do you think I don’t want you? Do you know how hard it is to see you in class? To remember what you taste like? To remember how it felt to push inside you, to have your body wrapped around mine?”

  Standing up straighter, he peers into my eyes. “Hands on the desk,” he orders, and I turn, placing my hands on the desk. “Is this what you want, Miss Adams?” His hands touch my hip and he pushes me forward, my compliant body bending at the waist. “Do you want to torture me? Is that why you’re here?” His fingers lift up the hem of my pleated skirt. “To torture me?”

  “No,” I breathe.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m here for you to fuck me.”

  “Fuck,” he hisses. His fingers skim up my thighs and land on the elastic of my thong. “You want me to fuck you?” His voice is husky, filled with lust and desire.

  “Yes.”

  He yanks me closer to him, and the hard ridge of his erection presses against me. “Right here?” His fingers tease at the material. They dip inside the lace and like a whisper he lightly cups my core.

  “God . . . Oh, God, yes.” I push my hips back, forcing his finger inside me.

  “I can’t think straight around you.” He pushes up with his finger, finding the sweet spot inside me. “I can’t think of anything but having you. You’ve fucking bewitched me.” He groans as his movements pick up pace, sending me toward my climax.

  I pulse around his digits, climbing the edge at a rapid speed. My breathing becomes exhilarated and my vision becomes spotty. I’m going to come, in my classroom, on his hand, and there’s nothing I can do to prolong or stop it.

  I can feel it.

  I can taste it.

  It’s all consuming.

  On and on . . .

  Until I fall.

  As my breathing regulates and I return to myself, he pulls his hand away from my body. I miss the feel of his touch immediately. Looking over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of his face and it sends a chill down my spine. His lips are puckered.

  “We can’t finish this here.” He shakes his head. “What was I thinking? We’re at school. We have to be more careful. But when I’m with you, I lose all reason. Fuck.” His fist clenches and then unclenches. “We can’t. Not here.” He pushes his hands through his hair. “Shit. We have to keep our distance at school.”

  “I know.” I look down at my feet. Suddenly, I feel so small. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I’ve never felt this way before. When I’m with you it’s as though nothing else matters, no consequences.”

  His eyes soften and he reaches out. Then he pulls his hand back and nods. “We have to try though, okay? We have to be careful.”

  “Okay.”

  I know he’s right, but it still breaks my heart that this is the way it has to be.

  THE LAST FEW WEEKS WERE torture. Complete and utter torture.

  Despite agreeing to distance ourselves at school, neither of us is playing by the rules. And even though we said we won’t do this at school, I can’t help but continue to provoke him here. With every day that passes, I try to entice him.

  Teasing the beast.

  I know I shouldn’t, but the high I get from sending him over the edge is one I can’t seem to find anywhere else.

  Carson avoids being alone with me. Well, at least at school. His place is a whole different story. I often find myself at his apartment, where he shows me over and over again just how much he wants me. Here at school is the opposite. As soon as class ends, he walks out with a student, not allowing me a second alone with him. I would be lying if I said a part of me felt cut by this, but when our gazes meet I can see he’s still affected by me.

  After three weeks, I’m desperate. I know I see him, touch him, every night, but he’s so different at school. It’s like being in the shivering cold staring at the flame and knowing I can’t feel the warmth. I need him. My desire is unquenchable. Today, everything inside me finally snaps. Against my better judgment, I walk back in as the last of the students leave. He doesn’t notice me at first, his attention occupied in a book. When I shut the door, his head snaps up and his eyes go wide.

  “Hi, Mr. Blake,” I purr as I make my way to the front of his desk.

  “We can’t be alone together.” He rises from his chair.

  “Not even for a minute?” I bite my lower lip and dip forward, giving him a full view of the black lace bra I’m wearing under my half-opened button-down. Definitely not Cranbrook approved. “Tell me why you don’t want to?”

  He inhales and exhales, his chest rising and falling as he makes his way around the desk. I turn to face him.

  “When I see you.” He steps toward me and I back up until I hit the desk. “In your uniform, all I want to do is bend you over my desk and sink so deep inside you I don’t know where I end and you begin.” A moan escapes my mouth at his words.

  “You can’t look at me like that. Not when you are so close I can practically taste your need on my tongue.” He reaches out and touches my jaw. The soft pad of his finger caresses it and trails up to my lower lip.

  “What the fuck am I going to do?”

  “Fuck me on your desk?” I purr.

  “If only it were that simple.”

  His mouth tightens, and I think he might just kiss me. God, I hope he does. Just as he takes a step forward, the door creaks and he steps back quickly, giving us more distance.

  Ms. Stuart pops her head in, and her eyes narrow as she takes us in. “Everything okay in here?”

  Carson looks at me, and I see something inside him change. His eyes narrow and he rolls his shoulders, straightening his back. “Yes. Miss Adams has been having some issues with tardiness, but it won’t happen again, right?”

  His words cut through me. I know what he’s saying. His message is coming in loud and clear.

  We can’t do this here.

  I have to stop torturing us.

  “Yes, loud and clear. This will never happen again.” The words rush out as I turn my back to him.

  Ms. Stuart’s brow furrows. “Okay, great.” She steps in and moves to the side, allowing a path for me to leave the room. As I’m almost out the door, she speaks. “Carson, would you like to go out for happy hour today?”

  My heart beats erratically in my chest. It feels as if it weighs a million pounds.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  “Um . . . I can’t tonight,” he mutters.

  “How about this weekend?”

  “I’m not sure I can this weekend.”

  “Sunday? Come on, it will be fun. I’m not taking no for an answer. That is, unless you’re . . .”

  I peer over my shoulder and wait for him to answer.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  “Nope, no other plans. I would love to.”

  A part of me dies.

  I run to the bathroom as the pain inside me spreads. My muscles constrict, making my chest tighten and bile collect in the back of my throat. Everything inside me tenses, and as I swing the door to the stall open, I almost don’t make it before my stomach empties itself in the toilet. Once I’m done
I step in front of the mirror and swipe away the tears that have collected on my cheeks. For a few long seconds I’m unable to move, but finally all my tears dry and I am able to leave the bathroom. It’s not even a minute later before Bridget is walking down the hallway. Her eyes widen when she sees me.

  “Hey, are you . . . okay?” There’s a gentle softness in her voice as if she’s afraid I’ll break. Little does she know, I’m already broken.

  “Um, yeah, must be something I ate. Didn’t agree with me,” I mumble. Her expression stills and grows serious. She doesn’t believe me.

  “Oh. Um, okay.” Her brows pull tightly together. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting a little strange recently.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, I’ve got to run.” I can’t stand the idea of her looking at me with pity. I walk out the door without waiting for her to reply and walk right out of the building.

  My phone vibrates.

  Carson: I had no choice.

  I don’t respond.

  I throw my phone in my bag.

  I can’t be here.

  I can’t be near him.

  I just can’t.

  I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVE to have drinks with this woman.

  I could clearly see how devastated Lynn was when I said yes to the invitation, but what could I do? More unmistakable than the hurt in her eyes was the speculative flash in Lauren Stuart’s eyes. She could see something was up, and that was something I just couldn’t have.

  Standing outside the bar, I wait for Lauren to arrive. She’s five minutes late and I’m already pissed that I have to be here. This is a bad idea. I should shoot her a text canceling, but I when we decided the location at school, we never exchanged numbers. That was probably her way of making sure I didn’t back out. Checking my watch again, I notice she’s now eight minutes late. Great. This is going to be a long night.

  Just as I decide to head inside to grab a drink, I spy her crossing the street and waving. I have to hand it to her, she does look hot and I hate myself for thinking so. She’s dressed in a pair of skin-tight jeans and an off-the-shoulder blouse. If this were a few months ago, I would easily be considering a way to skip right over the formalities of taking her out for a drink and thinking of a way to get her home. Instead, I’m contemplating a way to get out of here as fast as possible.

  As we stride into Bar 212, I unlatch myself from Lauren’s grasp and make my way to the bar. Quick and easy. Maybe I should just go with it. As much as I care about Lynn, the truth is, we really can’t be together. I need to get over her, and Lauren might be the perfect distraction.

  As we wait for our drinks to be served, I turn my attention back to Lauren. “So, how long have you been teaching at Cranbrook?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of me.

  “Only a year. You’re alumni, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You like it so far?” She inclines her head as she speaks as if she’s interested in my answer.

  “It has its pros and cons.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m comfortable there. That’s a pro, for sure.”

  “And con?”

  “I guess the students. I grew up with kids like them, so I knew what I was getting, but it’s harder when you’re the teacher. I know what some of these kids are going through.” My thoughts drift back to Lynn again. “I understand them, I was one of them, so I guess it can feel hard to discipline kids that remind you of yourself.”

  “It will get easier,” she says, taking a step closer to me. “I’m happy you decided to join me. I wasn’t sure if you were dating anyone.” She smiles coyly. “So, are you?”

  My eyes widen at her bluntness. Am I dating anyone? How do I even answer this? “No one in particular.” The words feel bitter as they leave my lips.

  “Oh, good.” She lays her hand on my arm. “I’m so happy you decided to meet up with me. I know how stressful work can be, and having a drink with someone who understands is always nice. It helps to get the frustration out.” She’s close to me, her arm brushing against mine. My pulse picks up, a wave of conflicting emotions running through me, making my blood jerk heavily in my veins.

  “What do you want?” I ask, and she steps in close, rubbing her body up against me. I know instantly what she wants. Can I do this?

  She gives me a coy smile as she rubs her hand up my back and then down my arm. “I want you,” she purrs in my ear. It would be so easy. So effortless for me to just not have to think. To not have to worry. No consequences. I shake my head at the thoughts running through my brain, but she lifts her hand anyway. “But if we’re talking about drinks, I’ll have another glass of Cab.”

  I wave over the bartender and order our drinks. Once our order is filled, I take a long sip of my scotch and then turn to face her. She’s a very attractive woman, but where Lynn is soft and delicate, Lauren is well manicured. She fits the part of a Cranbrook girl better than Lynn does.

  Lynn . . .

  Why can’t I get this girl off my mind? Because apparently I’m a pussy, that’s why.

  With another long swig from my glass, thoughts of Lynn recede. Lauren is rambling about something, but through the haze of my drink, I barely make out the words. What I can make out is her hand running up my thigh. My dick twitches in my pants. Evidently, it has a mind of its own and he’s made his decision. She leans in, her breath caressing my lips. But as our mouths are about to touch, it’s as though a bucket of cold water rushes through my veins. She smells all wrong. She is all wrong.

  This is all wrong.

  And as much as I want to drown myself in booze and pretend it doesn’t matter, the truth is that it does. Because she’ll never be her.

  A LOUD RACKET WAKES ME. Squinting, my gaze travels to the clock on my bedside table. Two o’clock. Another loud knock emanates through the quiet. Who could possibly be at my door in the middle of the night? I wipe the sleep from my eyes as I pad across the wood floors to the front door of my brownstone.

  “Yes?”

  “I need to see you.”

  Carson.

  I head over to the console table in the hallway and take in my appearance. I look like a train wreck. I run my hands through my hair to tame my now curled locks. Looking back at my reflection, I grimace just as I hear the pounding at the door again.

  “Come on, Lynn. Let me in.”

  With an exasperated huff, I swing the door open. He leans against the doorframe and stumbles toward me. His eyes blaze with an emotion I can’t quite place. He steps forward, his arms wrapping around my torso.

  “I needed to see you.”

  “At two in the morning? After what you said to me?”

  “I know it’s late. But I needed to see you. I had to tell you I felt like I had no choice. I just—”

  I pull back and take in his disheveled appearance. He’s drunk and I want to be mad at him for taking her out, for pushing me away, for being cruel. But I can’t. I know deep down he’s trying to do the right thing.

  “Shh, come on, I’m tired. Let’s lie down.”

  Taking his hand, I lead him down the hall and into my room. Once in the bed, he wraps me in his arms.

  “I needed to see you,” he breathes out again. “I was out with her, but she was all wrong.” His words sound hazy and slow. “Can’t stand the torture of not . . .”

  I peek at him and find his eyes closed. I exhale a breath of contentment and shut my eyes as well; welcoming the bliss I find only when Carson is near me. As the seconds pass, my body calms and our breaths come in tandem.

  A perfect rhythm as I drift into a peaceful sleep.

  THE EARLY MORNING SUN PEEKS in through the drapes of Lynn’s room, waking me from my sleep. With her body tucked to mine, I think this morning couldn’t be more perfect. Other than the hangover still present in my body, I wouldn’t mind waking up exactly like this for the foreseeable future. A smile spreads across my face. I might have been drunk last night and I might feel like shit this morning, but nothing could p
ossibly be better than waking up next to her.

  Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I see it’s six in the morning. I need to leave and prepare for the day. Carefully as not to wake her, I slide out of bed and stand to retrieve my phone sitting on the desk. Papers lie on the wooden surface next to it. I reach out to grab it and accidently knock a sheet onto the floor. Picking it up, I can’t help but take a glimpse. It’s a college application to UCLA, dated back to the beginning of the school year. She wants to go to California?

  But that doesn’t make sense. Every time we’ve spoken about colleges these last few weeks, she always says she wants to go to NYU. Why hasn’t she handed this in? Why hasn’t she mentioned it to me?

  Shit.

  A thought pops into my head.

  It’s me.

  She doesn’t want to tell me.

  Is this her dream? Is California her dream?

  Am I holding her back?

  The thought takes root in my psyche and spreads like wildfire.

  Shit.

  I am. Running a hand through my hair, I can’t stop staring at the paper that might hold her future. You know what you have to do? A voice hums in my brain.

  Walk away.

  I have to end it. I have no choice. I need to step away.

  She deserves better.

  She deserves a chance at happiness, to chase her dreams.

  I can’t hold her back.

  The desolation at letting her go is all-consuming. From a burning fire to ice, the two emotions wage war inside me. Eventually, as I struggle to gather my composure, the cold wins out as it pulls tightly around my heart. So tightly I’ve stopped breathing.

  I have to put her first. I need to let her go.

  Walking back to the bed, I nudge her shoulder to gently wake her. “Lynn.” Her lids flicker open in bewilderment as she tries to understand what’s happening.

  “What’s wrong? What time is it?” She rubs frantically at her lids to wring the sleep from her eyes. When she’s fully awake, she tilts her head and looks at me. “What’s wrong?” she asks again, but her body doesn’t move an inch when she speaks. It’s as if she’s rooted to the spot.