Bound to Passion (Bound Series #3)

by Kiru Taye

  Her mouth watered and she licked her lips. One word whispered in her mind. Sexy. She’d heard the term bandied about by her friends, but she’d never used it to describe anyone until now.

  She’d never been more sexually aware of anyone until now.

  The thought had her straightening her posture as her body warmed. She’d never had a boyfriend before, although she’d attended a mixed boarding school. Boys her age never appealed to her. Also, her parents had been strict about boyfriends. She’d been taught that boys were bad and getting involved could only lead to trouble.

  Her focus had always been on academics and getting great results.

  All that flew far from her mind as she couldn’t look away, absorbing every word the teacher spoke as if he addressed her alone.

  “My tutorial classes will run on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. All those interested should register using the forms on the Year Twelve notice boards.” He placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Next week, there will be a test, which will cover everything we’ve discussed so far this term.”

  A murmur passed through the class. Lara insides quivered and she swallowed down the panic, surprisingly not at the thought of failing the test but at disappointing her teacher. She’d have to study extra hard this week. Of course, she’d be signing up for his tutorials.

  “Sir?” A student at the back raised a hand.

  “Yes, Chuma.”

  “This is unfair. A week is not enough notice.”

  “Have you been paying attention in class since the start of the term?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Then you should have nothing to complain about. If anyone should complain about short notice, it should be Lara.”

  “That’s what I meant, sir. I was complaining on behalf of the new student. It’s unfair for her to take a test when she hasn’t been in class with us.”

  “Well, let’s ask her. Lara, do you think the test next week is unfair to you?”

  OMG! He’s talking directly to me. Her face heated up and she swallowed a few times before she could speak.

  “Well...um...it is short notice for me, sir.” Her voice sounded squeaky. She swallowed again.

  “In that case, you are exempted from next week’s test, Lara.”

  Another murmur went through the class and she could hear the disappointment in her classmates’ voices. She crossed her arms and shook her head. She didn’t want to be singled out for favour and end up being hated by the rest of the class.

  “Excuse me, sir.” She raised her right hand.

  “Yes, Lara,” the teacher replied.

  “Sir, I want to take part in next week’s test.”

  “Good.” He smiled at her again, making warmth spread through her chest. “Now turn to chapter four of the Physical Geography textbook.”

  The class settled down as the lesson went along. His mastery of the subject and the engaging way he discussed with the class only added to her admiration of him. For a young person who was probably only a few years older than she was, his confidence and ability to keep the entire class active and participating made her want to learn so much from him. Could she stand in front of a class of teenagers and get them to listen?

  Before long, the bell rang to signify the end of the class and break time. Mr. Thomas dismissed everyone and the students dispersed.

  Lara sighed, disappointed that the class had ended so quickly, although a glance at her wristwatch indicated two hours had gone by since Mr. Thomas had arrived in class.

  “Are you going to the canteen for lunch?” Ada asked as she got off the chair.

  “Yeah. Okay,” she replied and packed up her items.

  “Lara, I want to talk to you,” Mr. Thomas said.

  “I’ll wait for you outside.” Ada headed for the door.

  Lara remained standing on the spot.

  Mr. Thomas came around to lean back on the desk, facing her. He was less than a metre away from her. Her heart thudded in her chest, her pulse skyrocketing. If she stretched out her hand and leaned forward, her finger tips would graze the front of his shirt. Would his skin feel warm to the touch? Did he have hard muscles beneath the fabric?

  “I’m impressed that you agreed to take the test next week with the rest of the class,” he said, his gaze both assessing and amazed, his hand resting on his chest with his fingers splayed.

  Cheeks burning, she lowered her gaze and muttered shyly, “Thank you, sir.”

  “But as you can tell from the protests, my tests are not easy. As this subject is an elective, I’m determined that every student who signs up for it achieves the best result. With that in mind, I’m also aware that you’re currently at a disadvantage since you haven’t been in school from the start of the school year. I want to level out the playing field for you.”

  She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. “How’s that, sir?”

  “I strongly suggest you sign up for the extra weekly tutorials. But for next week, I’m offering you a daily tuition for half an hour during your lunch break.”

  “All week, sir?” Her brows shot up as her pulse accelerated. She was going to be in a room alone with him for the next few days?

  “Yes. Is that a problem?” His brows drew together in a frown as he leaned back on his hands.

  “No, sir.” She bit her lower lip and twisted her watch around, fretting that he would withdraw the offer. “I’m just worried that you’ll be using your personal time to coach me.”

  “Your concern is duly noted, Lara. But as I said earlier, I’m determined to achieve one hundred percent pass rate for my subject. You have one week to learn topics your classmates have been studying for six weeks. The work isn’t optional unless you want to drop the subject altogether.”

  “No, sir,” she said quickly. The thought of not being in his class made her heart sick.

  “In that case, go and grab a quick lunch and get back here in twenty minutes so we can get started.

  “Thank you.” Hands shaking, she pulled her bag off the floor and hurried out of the room.

  Ada stood in the hallway, fingers pressing buttons on her phone. “There you are. What did he want?”

  “He’s going to give me extra lessons to catch up.”

  As she spoke, Mr. Thomas came out of the classroom. He stared at both of them sternly as if he knew they were talking about him.

  She bit her lip and avoided his gaze as she blushed.

  “I expect you back in class at the correct time, Lara.” He turned and walked away.

  “Yes, sir,” she muttered and grabbed Ada’s hand. “I don’t want to get into trouble on my first day. Please show me to the canteen.”

  “Okay.”

  By the time they got to the building housing the restaurant, it was already teeming with students and teachers. Lara searched the room for Lola but couldn’t find her so she sent her a message. She couldn’t stay and eat in there. She bought a meat pie and bottle of Fanta to go instead with the cash Judy had given her this morning. She then bid farewell to Ada who went to queue with another group of girls, and returned to the class.

  She sat in her chair and ate her food, checking her phone for messages from Lola. None came.

  Right on time, Mr. Thomas strode in. Her respect for this man ratcheted up another notch. It had to be genuine passion for his students and subject that would make him sacrifice his own personal time for her. She’d had good teachers in the past but couldn’t think of any who had done something like this before.

  She pushed her chair back to stand up.

  He waved a hand.

  “Don’t stand up.” He stopped beside the desk.

  Pulse racing, she sat forward, her attention focused on him. Would he come closer?

  Her shoulders slumped when he remained where he stood. “These sessions are informal. I expect you to be on time. I expect you to pay attention, ask questions, and do the work given to you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rubbing her clammy hands against her skirt
, she licked her dry lips. More than anything else, she wanted to please him. Her foot bounced against the bottom of the desk.

  Crash!

  The loud sound made her jump back. Eyes bulging, body trembling, she hyperventilated. Shards of broken bottle lay scattered on the linoleum floor, triggering memories of another time and place.

  Broken glass shattered on tarmac. Crumpled metal, trapped bodies. The stomach-curdling smell of petrol. Crunching sounds over people’s voices. Someone called her name from far away.

  A fever swept through her. Sweat trickled down her back and face. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

  Someone grabbed her shoulders. Dragged her out of the wreckage. No, the person wasn’t dragging her. She was being shaken.

  “Lara...Lara!”

  She looked up at the person calling her name. The same person shaking her.

  What’s he doing here? He doesn’t belong in this memory.

  Slowly, her environment returned to her. She blinked several times as she struggled to get air into her lungs.

  “Mr. Thomas?” Her voice came out scratchy and weak, her throat dry.

  “Lara, do you know where you are?” He squatted beside her, brow wrinkled.

  Blinking again, she swallowed the bile in her throat and nodded. “In school.”

  His gaze flitted over her body, the frown still in place. “Are you hurt?”

  She stared from her hands to the glass on the floor. “No. I’m sorry. Let me clean up the mess.”

  Shifting, she scrambled to get up.

  “Stay there.” His tone was gentle and firm.

  Stiffening, she didn’t move as she watched him stride across the room.

  He snatched a sheet of paper off the table and came back to pick up the broken pieces from the floor. He dumped the big chunks in the paper bin, opened the door, and disappeared.

  Rubbing her palms down her skirt, she hunched over. First day in a new school and she’d had a panic attack. In front of the most intriguing man she’d ever met, with skin like dark chocolate and eyes like the sky at night.

  Oh, God! Heat crept up from her chest to her face. Wanting to get out before he came back, she grabbed her bag.

  The door squeaked as it swung open and he returned with a small brush and pan.

  Chest feeling tight and frozen to the spot, she watched him.

  He worked quickly and thoroughly, sweeping up any last trace of glass and binning them. Striding to his desk, he pulled a bottle of water from his satchel and came back to sit in a chair across from her.

  “Drink this.” He passed her the plastic container.

  She unscrewed the sealed cap, tipped her head slightly back, and drank, glad to soothe her parched throat. When she finished, she stretched out her hand to pass it back.

  “You can keep it,” he said, his gaze fixed to her face.

  “Thank you.” She broke eye contact and stared at the desk, clutching the bottle to her side as she wrapped her arms across her body to hide her tremors.

  “Lara, why did you have a panic attack?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

  Eyes wide, she glanced at him. How did he know? Her foot bounced on the floor. “I...I...” she stuttered.

  His hand settled on her knee. Warm. Calming. “It’s okay. Breathe in and out slowly.”

  She followed the instructions of his compelling voice. Her breathing evened out and the shaking stopped eventually.

  “Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare,” he continued. “I’ll be shivering and sweating and feeling like I want to crawl out of my skin.”

  “Really?” Her breath caught and she placed the water bottle on the desk. Why was he telling her something so personal? Something he must be ashamed to share with anyone.

  Just as she was ashamed of the bad memories that plagued her.

  “Yes. So if something’s happened, you can tell me. I’ll understand.” Withdrawing his hand, he leaned it on the desk beside him, the other on his knee.

  She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Something about him made her want to share her experience, although she hadn’t discussed it with anyone after it happened.

  Then again, people didn’t like to talk about tragedies, afraid of inviting those things into their lives. She was trying to move on from her parents’ death, but the memory stalked her. Being in a new school environment didn’t help matters.

  She glanced up at Mr. Thomas. He nodded as if in understanding as his lips curled in a sad smile. His sympathetic expression bolstered her resolve. She released another slow breath.

  “I was in a car crash with my parents. They were killed.” Tears misted her eyes and she swiped them with her palms. “Sometimes when I hear a loud noise, I feel as if I’m trapped in that car.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  The stress in his voice made her look across to him. His hands clenched into fists and the skin around his eyes bunched as he gave her a pained stare.

  She recognised that expression. It was like staring in a mirror. Staring at a boy who’d undergone suffering. Someone like her. A kindred spirit.

  He blinked and the distressed expression eased away as if it was an oil portrait brushed over with new paint.

  “Surviving a tragedy like that is tough on anybody. We have a counsellor here at Hillcrest. If you need to talk more about it, she’s a good person.”

  The tormented boy had gone and in his place sat the articulate teacher.

  She nodded. But she wouldn’t talk to anyone else unless it was him. For one, she didn’t like reliving the event. Anyway, no one else would understand what it felt like to carry this guilt around unless they’d been through something similar. Why was she alive when her parents were dead? She’d asked herself the question ever since the accident.

  “Good.” He lifted his arm and glanced at his watch. “Lunch break is almost over. We’ll have to pick up the lesson tomorrow. Read the whole of chapter one from the textbook before we meet then.”

  She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

  Nodding, he strode to the desk and grabbed his satchel.

  As she bit her lips and gripped her elbows, disappointment that he was leaving made her chest tighten. Unable to move, she watched him head to the door.

  Twisting the handle, he turned back to look at her. “Lara, you’re going to be fine. With time, the way you feel will get better.”

  His lips curled at one corner and he was back to looking boyish in a charming boy-next-door sort of way. Then he was gone.

  Butterflies fluttered in her belly. Heat flushed her skin. For the first time in her life, she wanted a boy to notice her. Except this wasn’t a boy. He was a man, her teacher, and totally forbidden.

  She wanted him nonetheless.

  Click to continue reading Bound to Fate

  Keep reading for Chapter One from Bound to Ransom, Bound series book 2

  Blurb

  Since the death of her mother, Gloria Rawlins' life has been a string of disappointments by the people she cares about; first by her father and then in a series of disastrous relationships that have shattered pieces of her heart one after another. She knows she's no angel and refuses to make herself vulnerable to anyone again. Until one man threatens to strip away the wall shielding her heart.

  Henry Coker is not afraid of challenges. Abandoned by his father and raised by a single mother, he's had to work hard from the bottom up to prove himself to his peers and the world. But Gloria, the one person he desires above all others remains out of reach until an opportunity presents itself and he has the chance to buy her from her father.

  Despite their incongruous arrangement, desire like theirs cannot be hidden and passion sizzles between them. But making someone fall in love may just be a challenge too far.

  Bound to Ransom is a story about breaking the cycle of self-destruction, finding redemption and the powerful love that endures.

  Bound to Ransom: Chapter One

&nb
sp; Henry Coker stepped out of the chilly car as his chauffeur held the door open. The hot and humid air outside struck him as soon as the soles of his Italian-made, black leather brogues hit the concrete driveway.

  All around him, the Lagos Island business district announced itself. Blaring car horns, animated conversations, spicy food aromas, and exhaust fumes—pedestrians and vehicles jostled in a kaleidoscope of scents, movements, and sounds.

  In the distance, several construction cranes extended upwards like skinny arms. Some of them belonged to projects currently underway through his firm. This whole area stood under regeneration; old office blocks being renovated or new ones being built. Boom time had come for the Nigerian construction industry.

  He glanced up at the overcast sky through his dark sunglasses. A storm brewed.

  Just the way he liked it. He thrived on trouble. Challenges made him tick.

  He shook out his shoulders and straightened his navy silk suit, pulling out his cuffs. He was a man in his prime—young, rich, and successful.

  Unlike his best friend, Ike Thomas, his early years had been marked by trouble, his youth filled with hardship as the son of a single mother who had worked her bones off to provide for him and his younger sibling. He’d laboured from the bottom to the top, scraping and saving and learning and investing. Wisely. Ruthlessly.

  Today, all his hard work would yield a major result.

  He strode across to the entrance of the five-storey building that housed Rawlins Constructions, Ltd.

  “Good afternoon, sir.” A security man in blue and black uniform held the glass door open for him.

  Nodding in response, Henry crossed the threshold.

  In the lobby, the blue fabric covering the padded chairs appeared faded, nicks and tears evident, too. The eggshell-coloured walls bore marks from scuffs and palm prints and needed a fresh coat of paint. Or two. The jaded furniture showed outward signs of a business in trouble. At least, the air conditioners still worked, banishing the humid heat after the door swung shut behind him.