Professor's Kiss: A Second Chance, Bully Romance. (Irish Kiss Book 2)

by Sienna Blake

  I let her. Dearg didn’t have the strength to push me around if I didn’t want her to.

  I chuckled as I slumped in my seat.

  She let out a sigh. “Of course I have to spend my Valentine’s evening in here with you.”

  “Most girls would give their right tit to spend any time anywhere with me.”

  She let out a snort. “Most girls are mindless eejits turned on by nothing more than stardust and a nice set of abs.”

  I couldn’t argue with her there.

  I sat up in my chair when I realised what she’d admitted. “You think I have a nice set of abs?”

  “I w-what? No!” She looked horrified. Yep, she realised what she’d just said, too.

  I grinned. “You’ve been looking.”

  “Please.” She rolled her eyes, trying to fake turning back to her paper. “The way you carry on at the local gigs, pulling off your shirt while you play.”

  I’d been playing gigs locally for almost a year now. The local pubs and bars were falling over themselves to have the son of a rock god headline their live music nights. I’d never noticed her at any of them.

  I sat up even further. “You’ve seen me play?”

  She flinched, then shrugged, a poor attempt at apathy. “It’s not like I was there to see you. I didn’t even know you were playing when I showed up.”

  “Liar.”

  That redness crept up again, my pretty barometer. She could never hide from me.

  “So what would the lovely Ailis Kavanagh be doing instead of being stuck, as you say, in detention with unworthy me?”

  Her mouth twitched. She didn’t want to say.

  “Go on,” I said. “I promise, I won’t even tease you, no matter how lame it is.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And here I thought for a second you were going to be…well,” she eyed me over, “not nice. I don’t think you’re capable of nice. But at least you’re not being your regular cunty self.”

  I almost choked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear.”

  Her eyes narrowed at me. “I learned a few things over the Easter break.”

  Well, good for her.

  “So?” I prompted. “Your plans for later.”

  She shrugged.

  I knew what she was supposed to do. I just wanted her to say it. But it looked like she wasn’t going to give it up.

  “I know you’re supposed to meet up with Cormac later,” I said.

  Cormac McArthur. Jock. Entitled rich prick. GAA player for the local junior team, which made him a local superstar. A total A-grade asshole.

  I mean, I knew I was an asshole, but at least I was upfront about it. I didn’t play girls against each other and fuck around my girlfriends’ backs.

  Ailis stiffened, playing with the shiny silver bracelet on her wrist, the bracelet I’d never seen her wear before. “If you knew already, why did you bother asking?”

  I ignored her question.

  “Did he get you that for Valentine’s Day?” I demanded, pointing at the bracelet.

  She dropped her hand. “That just happens to be a very expensive silver tennis bracelet.”

  I snorted. I couldn’t believe she was defending the thoughtless gift. “What a dick. Doesn’t he know that you hate jewelry?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “How did—?”

  “You never wear it.”

  It’s true. I’d never seen Ailis wear any jewelry. She told me once that she’d gotten her ears pierced but that she had to take the earrings out. Apparently, her body reacted to any and all metal.

  “And let me guess,” I continued, “he got you red roses.”

  She flinched, telling me that I was spot on. How fucking generic of him.

  I let out a curt laugh. “I’m right, aren’t I?” I shook my head. “He doesn’t even know that white lilies are your favourite flower. You can’t give up your v-card to a guy who doesn’t even know what your favourite flowers are.”

  Her face widened with shock, the telltale blush spreading up to her cheeks now. “I-I… W-what…?” she spluttered.

  “That’s what was in the cards for tonight, wasn’t it?”

  “That is none of your damn business. God, where is Mr Ryan?”

  She shook her head, her hair falling around her sweetheart face. The motion made me want to tangle my fingers into it and tug it back, exposing her vulnerable neck for me.

  I yanked her chair towards my open legs, the chair scraping the floor with a groan. She yelped as I caged her in. Any closer and she’d be in my lap. Hmmm…actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea.

  “Let me spell it out for you, Dearg,” I ground out, “because apparently no one else has. He doesn’t like you. He wants to fuck you to win a bet.”

  I watched as her face broke apart. I felt her pain as if I had punctured my own lungs. But I had committed to it; I was not backpedaling now.

  I’d overheard one of the juniors whispering about Ailis and about how hot she’d become over the summer. So hot that there was a bet going on amongst a group of the seniors on who could fuck her first. The bets were on Cormac because he’d somehow convinced her to come out to dinner with him on Valentine’s Day.

  I’d lost my fucking mind.

  I didn’t know what I was doing before I threw the punch. And even after, I didn’t know how to stop. And I didn’t stop. Not until I was wrestled off the little shit.

  Of course, I’d told no one the reason I’d attacked him.

  Hence, the month’s worth of detentions I was punished with. They’d have kicked me out of school if it wasn't for who my father was.

  “Why are you such an asshole?” Ailis hissed, trying visibly not to cry.

  I ignored the stabs of pain each glistening drop in her eyes produced, as if they were shards of ice in my heart.

  “I’m nicer to you than any of those dipshits you call friends. They didn’t tell you about the bet, did they? They know. Everyone knows. You should be thanking me for telling you. No one else will. I’ll always tell you the truth, Dearg.”

  “I hate you,” she said softly, but there was no malice to it. Even her hatred was nice. It made me even angrier. “Why do you have to make my life so miserable?”

  “Misery loves company, sweetheart,” I spat out.

  28

  ____________

  Ailis

  “Let me spell it out for you, Dearg, because apparently no one else has. He doesn’t like you. He wants to fuck you to win a bet.”

  Just when I thought that Danny could be…well, nice wasn’t the word for it…not a complete shithead, he had to go and ruin it.

  Where the hell was Mr Ryan?

  “I don’t have to take this shite.” I stood up, collecting my things. “Screw you.”

  He leapt to his feet as well, grabbing my arm and yanking me towards him. I met with the hard plains of his chest and gasped as my body erupted into flames.

  He leaned in. “I bet I could, if I wanted to. I’ve seen the way you react when I’m around. Your nipples, they stand to attention near me, telling me what you don’t have to say. Like now.”

  His eyes dropped to my chest.

  I glanced down. Sure enough, there were diamond peaks stabbing out from the material of my shirt. How could my body betray me like this?

  Danny gripped me tighter, drawing my attention back to his face, his eyes on mine, a whirlpool of intensity. “You want me. And if I wanted to, I could win that pool against your virginity, couldn’t I? You want me as much as I want you.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  He wanted me.

  He hated me. But he wanted me just as much.

  Why don’t you? I wanted to say. Then slapped myself internally for even thinking such a thing.

  The fact that I even felt these confusing things for my bully was proof enough that there was something wrong with me.

  He gripped the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair and tugged back so hard that it stung, forcing my chin up to h
is face. For some stupid reason, this just made my insides clench.

  I was trapped.

  And I didn’t want to be freed.

  “Y-you want me?” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “I want to fuck you so hard it hurts,” he said, his voice spitting with fury. “I want to hurt you as much as it hurts me to know that you are alive when she—” He cut off, tearing his eyes away from mine.

  Realisation slammed through me.

  She.

  His mother.

  I was alive but she wasn’t.

  I was a reminder of all that he’d lost.

  I knew in that moment, even as much as Danny wanted me, as much as I was burned into his skin, he would let me die if it meant his mother would live.

  In that moment of perfect clarity, with my heart breaking over his pain, so raw and exposed, I would have chosen her to live over me, too.

  29

  ____________

  Danny

  Now – Dublin, Ireland

  Late in the evening several weeks later, I returned to the college after a boozy dinner with Rickie, glad for the stillness of the cool evening. I didn’t usually drink. But tonight, I felt like I needed something to numb my mind that had been whirring over and over a certain green-eyed temptress.

  My heels clicked against the marble floor as I walked through the building towards the recording studios. As promised, Rickie had given me a key. I was eager to record a harmony I’d had in my head since class so I didn’t lose it. I wanted to play around with it too. Test the various melodies on various instruments.

  I thought I was alone here.

  I was wrong.

  A door to one of the practice rooms on my left opened and out stepped Ailis. The wicked sorceress of my doom herself. All my senses crackled like a live wire.

  She jolted and her cheeks flushed as if I’d just caught her doing something naughty.

  I’d like to do all sorts of naughty things to her.

  I shoved that thought away with a snarl as I halted right before her. Maybe she had been doing something naughty. I stared past the door closing behind her for a boy.

  But she was alone.

  Alone.

  With me.

  My stare snapped to her, our gazes locking.

  It hit me like a shot of Drambuie—hot, burning, with a hint of sweetness, and the complexity of spices.

  I wasn’t the only one reeling.

  She sucked in a breath and tore her lovely eyes from me, dipping her head. “Professor.”

  I scowled. I should walk away, right now. I should ignore her just like I had been doing for the last few weeks.

  But seeing her alone broke my resolve.

  As did those three whiskeys I’d had with dinner, weakening my willpower.

  “You’re here late,” I said.

  There they were, those green eyes watching me again. Threatening to look deep into my rotten core.

  “So are you,” she said, her voice firmer.

  “What were you doing in there?” I demanded.

  What do you do when you’re not in my class? Where do you go? Who do you see? I wanted to know every single thing about her.

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s none of your business.”

  There was my firecracker.

  I stepped closer, drawn in by her, the widening of her eyes and the parting of her lips sending a rush of blood to my dick.

  I shouldn’t. But I wanted to.

  I should back off.

  But I couldn’t. Not when it came to her. She was my kryptonite.

  It was her fault that she ended up here at my school, in my city. She would pay for that.

  “You are my student,” I growled, still advancing. “You are my business.”

  She backed up. “Your business? So you ignore me for weeks until now, when you deem I’m worthy of your attention?” Her voice cracked.

  Her back hit the door. I closed in on her, feeling like a lion licking his lips, as his prey realised they’d run out of luck.

  Her hand shot down to grab at the door handle. My hand closed over hers before she could turn it and she could escape.

  “So you missed my attention?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Liar. What were you doing in there?” I asked again, nodding to the room behind the door. It was a practice room, from memory. More heat rushed into my blood as I recalled when she and I had been in our high school practice room.

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re lying to me, Ms Kavanagh.”

  “I…”

  “I don’t appreciate liars. In fact, I fail liars.”

  I was a dick, holding a failing grade over her head to squeeze information out of her, but I didn’t care.

  Her nostrils flared at my unfairness, but she managed to remain in control. “Fine. I was here late…practising.”

  “Singing?”

  She dropped her gaze.

  “You were trying to work through your stage fright,” I realised. Her cheeks flamed and I knew I was right. “Because of what I said earlier.”

  She whipped her face towards me and let out a scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  I leaned in closer. Drawn in. I might look like the aggressor here, but she was the spider and I was sliding into her web.

  “Sing for me?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “No!”

  “You want to get over your stage fright?” I grabbed her around the tangle of her hair and forced her to look at me. “Sing. For. Me.”

  Her eyes widened and she shook her head. I saw the scared little girl who I used to play the hero for. She used to look at me as if I hung the stars.

  “Let me go,” she begged in a voice that punched into my chest and twisted.

  “Come on, Ailis,” I crooned. “I’ll sing. You sing with me.” I leaned in, inhaling the scent of her clean floral shampoo, getting drunk on it. Getting tipsy on her.

  I crooned out the first line from Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight”.

  Her voice hitched.

  She recognised the song.

  The first song that she and I sang together.

  I sang another line, lowered my face to the side of her forehead, curling my other hand down to her waist, as if we were about to dance. “You’re not singing.”

  “What do you want from me?” she asked in a whisper.

  I pulled back to look at her. Her pupils were dilated, her cheeks were pink with blood. I could feel the diamond-hard tips of her nipples against my chest. Her pink tongue swiped at her bottom lip and my eyes traced the movement.

  “Nothing,” I answered.

  I was such a liar.

  I wanted to run my tongue against where hers had been. To suck her nipple into my mouth. To break open her shell and lap at her very centre. To absorb her into my blood.

  To turn her into nothing but the sound of my name being screamed.

  Our eyes locked once more and I was lost.

  I want everything, I admitted, but only to myself.

  My rules be damned, I leaned in to take it. To take her.

  “Mr O’Donaghue,” a female voice cracked through the air.

  Ailis jolted aside, pushing me back. I turned towards the voice with the languid cocky casualness of an innocent man. One I was far from.

  I’d gotten into enough trouble as a youth not to cower from authority. Or to show guilt even if it burned in my veins.

  Mrs Prim, the prudish headmistress of this college, stood there with her hands on her hips.

  I nodded at her. “What’s the craic, Mrs P?”

  She scowled at me.

  I didn’t so much as flinch. I’d had my back to her when she showed up, blocking Ailis and me. She wouldn’t have seen how close I was to kissing the shit out of my student.

  “What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice as tight as a whip.

  “Just explaining a few things to Ms Kavanagh that she missed
during class today,” I said, the lie coming easily off my tongue.

  Lying to the authorities. That was also something I’d had a lot of practice doing.

  Mrs Prim narrowed her eyes at Ailis. “Ms Kavanagh?”

  Ailis tensed beside me. Goody two shoes Kavanagh could spill and have me fired in a second. It’d solve all her problems.

  Still, I showed no emotion.

  “Just as Professor O’Donaghue said,” Ailis said, to my utter surprise. “He was just…educating me on a few things.”

  Mrs Prim’s eyes narrowed. She hummed under her breath. She didn’t believe us for a second. Rightly so.

  She was the only member of the board who had tried to veto my teaching here. She didn’t like me for whatever reason and I returned the favour.

  Mrs Prim let out a breath when it was clear that she was getting nothing more out of us. “Very well. You may leave now, Ms Kavanagh.”

  Ailis dipped her head. “Thank you, Mrs Prim.”

  Ailis trotted down the hallway, leaving me with the Wicked Witch of the West.

  “Mr O’Donaghue,” Mrs Prim said, her gaze intently on me, “I’m sure I don’t have to warn you about the school’s ‘no-fraternizing’ policy.”

  I’d read those school rules. Used them to make myself fall asleep after a particularly bad night of insomnia.

  “Trust me,” I said, “I wouldn’t touch Dearg with a ten-foot pole.”

  She frowned. “Dearg?”

  Ah shit. Stupid me, using my old nickname for her.

  “Ailis,” I corrected.

  “You mean Ms Kavanagh.”

  Right. Using a student’s first name implied intimacy. And I should not be getting intimate with any of my students.

  Or one in particular.

  “Yeah. Ms Kavanagh,” I corrected myself.

  Mrs Prim gave me a smile so fake it would melt if held too close to the flames. “Because I’d hate to see you leave.”

  Hah, liar.

  I shot her a smile as fake as hers. “Trust me, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise my time here.”

  Ailis Kavanagh—and whatever the hell I was about to do to her up against that door before Mrs Prim interrupted us—was not worth it, I reminded myself.