Renner's Rules

by K. Webster

  “I heard,” he snapped. “‘I bet if you took off your shirt, you’d have everyone’s attention. Especially mine.’” His jaw clenches and his green eyes burn with fury.

  I start giggling. A nervous habit. Plus, it’s kind of funny that I’ve managed to already piss off so many people and I’ve been here half a day. “I was just trying to help.”

  He drags his attention to the window where it’s heavily snowing now. His arms are crossed over his chest. He’s long lost his jacket and his sleeves have been rolled up, revealing too much yumminess for a high school principal. Muscular, tanned forearms. Sexy veins that protrude and just beg to be licked. Colorful tattoos that I’m dying to run my fingertips over.

  “You have a smart mouth,” he grumbles, his broad shoulders tense.

  “My mouth is good for a lot of things,” I mutter, my tone thick with insinuation. “But mostly I use it for being smart.”

  He snaps his head my way and his hot glare rakes over me. “Get back to class. I don’t want to see you back in here for the rest of the day.”

  “Or what?” I challenge.

  He growls. He actually growls. My core clenches in response and suddenly I’m slightly dizzy in his presence.

  “Or I’ll call Daddy.”

  I laugh, the sound harsh. “Okay. Get right on that.”

  “Your dad should have whipped your ass a lot more when you were a kid,” he mumbles under his breath.

  I gape at him in shock.

  “Go, Elma,” he bites out. “Now.”

  Zane.

  The hilarious friend I made today is hot but totally not my type. Plus, he’s practically drooling and in love with someone else. It’s funny to watch the way he catalogs her every move.

  “You should take a picture. It’ll last longer,” I taunt.

  He swivels in his desk chair and flips me the bird. The secretary, Leah, lets out a bitchy huff that has Zane and me snorting with laughter.

  “I have plenty of pictures,” he whispers and waves his phone. He mimics jerking himself off and I die laughing.

  “Miss Bonilla!”

  The sharp, prickly voice has me jolting in my seat. Miss Bowden frowns at me as she drags her disproving gaze down the front of my chest.

  “What?”

  “That is unacceptable clothing,” she hisses, her cheeks blossoming bright red. “Leah,” she admonishes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Oh,” the secretary murmurs. “I was busy working on some things for Mr. Renner.” The tightness in her tone reveals she doesn’t like Miss Bowden any more than I do.

  Miss Bowden points past me. “Go see Mr. Renner. Right. Now.” She punctuates each word in a furious manner. I don’t miss the way she darts her gaze over at Zane briefly as to see if he’s checking me out.

  He’s too busy stifling his laughter. I flip him off this time.

  “Now,” she screeches.

  I slide off the desk and brush against Zane’s shoulder.

  “Good luck,” he mutters as I walk by.

  Ignoring the evil glare coming from Miss Bowden, I march out from behind the front desk and over to Adam’s door. It’s ajar and I can hear him typing away on the computer. With my chin lifted, I push through it and close the door behind me.

  “Yes?” he says without looking up.

  “Miss Bowden said you wanted to see me,” I say in the most innocent voice I can muster.

  At the sound of my voice, his attention snaps my way. Our eyes meet for a heated second before his roam lazily down my front. As soon as he takes in my attire, his brows furl together angrily.

  “Elma!”

  “What?”

  The off-the-shoulder T-shirt I’d been wearing earlier has long-since been shed, along with my sweater as well. I stuff my hands into the pockets of my cute army-green cargo skirt and shrug. It’s just a tank top. It’s not my fault my boobs are big.

  “That…” He waves at my outfit as though it’s personally offended him. “You can’t wear that.”

  “How come?”

  His eyes dart to mine and his jade-colored orbs blaze. Heat. Lust. Desire. I don’t miss the way he stares at me as though he wants to help me with my clothing problem by getting rid of it altogether. I shiver at the thought.

  Almost imperceptibly so, his gaze softens. He rises from his chair and snags his blazer from the back of it. “Wear this.”

  I stare at his offering as though it’s riddled with fleas. There’s no way I’m wearing the principal’s jacket.

  “No.”

  “Elma.” His voice quakes with warning.

  When I refuse his jacket, he storms over to me. He hangs it over my shoulders. Like I’m a child, he grips my wrists and forces them into the sleeves. He’s not satisfied until he has it buttoned and my breasts are no longer on display.

  “There,” he says, his voice gruff.

  But when his eyes drift down to my thighs, he lets out a frustrated breath.

  “Actually. No. Take it off.”

  I start laughing at him. “What? Why?”

  “That skirt…” His eyes bore into mine. “It’s too short.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It is not fine.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, messing up the styled perfection. “Four inches. Your skirt can’t be any shorter than four inches above the knee.” He pins me with a furious glare.

  “I’m short. You’re being ridiculous.”

  He drops his stare to my mouth and he shakes his head as though to clear his mind. “I’ll get Miss Bowden in here to measure—”

  “Adam,” I whine. “Please don’t. She hates me.”

  His hot eyes flicker and I realize I’ve said his first name. Backtracking, I bite my lip and bat my lashes at him innocently.

  “Principal Renner. If you absolutely must prove this to yourself, then by all means, measure my skirt. Just don’t let that woman do it.”

  He rubs at the back of his neck and darts a nervous look toward the door. “It’s against policy for a male staff member to—”

  “It can be our little secret.”

  “You’re so damn naughty,” he snarls under his breath.

  I laugh again and enjoy the way he seems to have completely lost his mind. Driving Principal Renner crazy is fun. He asked and now I have an answer. Him. He’s my new hobby.

  He rummages through his drawer and produces a ruler. For a split second, a fantasy plays out in my mind where he bends me over his desk and spanks me with the metal ruler. My cheeks flush at that thought, and his jacket that smells too manly and delicious suffocates me with its heat.

  “Come here,” he instructs, his voice harsh and authoritative.

  A thrill shoots down my spine and I obey him. Once I’m standing so close that our chests are nearly touching, I look up at him. His gaze has softened as he greedily drinks up my features. Like a creeper, I inhale him. His scent is even more heavenly straight from the source.

  “You’re going to make my life hell, aren’t you?” He doesn’t seem angry, just resigned to the idea.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  He arches a brow and the corner of his lips twitch as though he’s fighting a smile. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He kneels down in front of me and my breath is sucked straight from my chest when his strong hand curls around my thigh.

  Just like last night.

  It feels as familiar and right as it did then.

  A strangled sound escapes me as he presses the ruler against my flesh. His hot breath tickles my thighs and I find myself growing wet for him.

  “Okay.” His voice is gruff.

  “Okay?”

  “It’s fine.” His thumb brushes along my skin before he releases me and rises to his full height. “I’d like you to wear the jacket or put your clothes back on. Please, Elma.”

  I’m flushed and lightheaded after his intimate touch. His husky words seem to vibrate straight to my core. “Yes, sir.”

  A muscle in his
neck ticks and his brows furl together. “So polite.”

  “I can behave sometimes.”

  His grin, wolfish and hot as hell, knocks me off my game. I simply stare at how beautiful he is. “If you behaved all the time, I’d be out of a job.”

  My nerves are on edge. Last night, I was gruff and pretended to bury myself in work on my laptop to avoid her. I can’t believe I touched her thigh yesterday in my office. I fucking flirted with her.

  So wrong.

  And now…now I’m going to be stuck in this house with her.

  Alone.

  I glare out the window at the shiny layer of ice that now coats everything. Trees, the ground, my truck. The wind howls, promising more icy terror. Mocking me. Reminding me I’ve fucked up and my punishment is to be trapped inside my house with a tempting vixen. I’ve already made the appropriate calls canceling school today. Normally, I’d enjoy the day off and lounge around the house watching ESPN and shit.

  Today?

  I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  Her alarm starts buzzing from my room and it makes me aware that I’ve been standing here for an hour glaring out the window contemplating my situation. When she doesn’t turn it off, I let out a frustrated growl and walk into my bedroom. She’s buried under my covers and if I were a lesser man, I’d crawl under there with her. My cock twitches at that idea and I let out a groan.

  She stirs and I start to retreat.

  “I’m up,” she grumbles as she slaps at her phone.

  “Go back to sleep,” I bark out, a little harshly. “School’s been called. Everything is blanketed in snow and ice.”

  She sits up in bed. “There’s more snow? Like enough to build a snowman?”

  Before I can answer, she flies from the bed and runs past me. Her scent swirls around me and my cock is wide fucking awake now. The fact I’m wearing sweatpants does nothing to hide my arousal. She lets out a loud shriek that has my lust-filled thoughts quickly switching to ones of alarm.

  “What’s wrong?” I bellow as I follow her into the living room.

  I find her staring out the window with her palms on the glass. Her dark hair is down and slightly tangled. She’s once again wearing nothing more than a tank top and some frilly looking panties. Her tanned legs are for my visual tasting. But it’s her round, juicy ass that looks downright delectable.

  “Can we build a snowman?” she asks as she bounces on her toes. Her ass jiggles, making my cock painfully hard.

  “No,” I snap. “It’s twenty-three degrees out there.”

  Her head turns and she regards me with a pout of her plump lips that does nothing to help the state of my cock. “Please, Adam.”

  I position myself behind the sofa so she doesn’t see how my body is responding to her. “No.”

  Her shoulders slump and she walks away from the window. If I’m not mistaken, her bottom lip wobbles as though she might cry. Guilt surges through me. She makes her way back into my room and climbs back in bed. I can’t help but follow after her. Leaning against the doorframe, I watch her lie back on the pillows and begin texting.

  Dammit.

  I’m really not good at this shit.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I leave her be to go make breakfast. Hopefully bacon and eggs will draw her out of her pouty mood. But breakfast comes and goes. And when I ask her to come eat, she says she’s not hungry.

  The wind doesn’t let up and the snow continues to fall. It looks cold as hell out there. Which it makes no sense as to why I’m giving in.

  “Elma,” I bark from the doorway.

  She arches a brow but doesn’t look up from her phone.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine what?” Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t look up at me.

  “Fine. We’ll go build a damn snowman.”

  Her squeal of delight catches me off guard. But what really throws me off is when she launches herself from bed and flies into my arms. On instinct, I hug her to me and inhale her hair. I’m shocked still for a moment, but then my body heats as I realize how perfect our bodies meld together.

  “This is the best day of my life,” she murmurs, her breath tickling my neck.

  My cock hardens against her stomach and I’m flooded with embarrassment. “Good,” I choke out. “Be ready in ten minutes and we’ll go play. I saved you a plate of food. We’re not going anywhere until you eat, though.”

  She pulls away, her cheeks blossoming red, and bites on her bottom lip. “Yes, sir.”

  Fuck, she’s driving me mental.

  I give her a clipped nod before bolting from the room before I do something stupid like kiss her sweet mouth. My dick aches to do other things, but I can’t go anywhere with her. Just being alone with her in this house is damaging to my psyche. While she dresses, I rummage around in a duffle bag I’d filled with my clothes until I find what I need. Quickly, I dress in the bathroom, then wait in the living room for her. When she emerges from the bathroom, I growl.

  “No.”

  “What?” she asks, her lip curling up slightly.

  I wave at whatever the fuck she’s wearing and shake my head. “Absolutelyfuckingnot.”

  “What’s wrong with this?” She huffs and puts her hands on her hips, accentuating the curves there. “I’m covered.”

  “First of all,” I grumble, “you’re not covered. I can see your bra through your sweater.” And fuck if her tits don’t beg to be sucked on. “And those tights?” I shake my head in horror. “You’ll freeze your ass off. Literally. But secondly, where the hell is your coat?”

  At my question, her haughty expression falls and her eyes well with tears. The pretty browns look more like melted chocolate now. Why does she have to be so beautiful?

  Softening my tone, I say her name, “Elma.”

  A tear streaks down her cheek and she drops her arms to her sides. Once again, I feel like a prick. Her father has all but abandoned her here and I’m being an asshole. I step over to her and bring my finger beneath her chin. When I tilt her head up, her black eyebrows are crushed together and her bottom lip pokes out. She’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her and I mean it. “I’m not good at all this. It’s just really cold out there and I worry.”

  Her lips quirk and she gives me a shy smile. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  I laugh and love the way her eyes light up. “Don’t get used to it,” I tease, my thumb running along her jaw. All it would take would be for me to lean in and kiss her supple lips. One tiny kiss and I’d be so far down the rabbit hole, I’d never climb back out.

  My palm slides to the outside of her neck because the urge to touch her is winning out over my sane thoughts. “Where’s your coat?”

  She frowns and breaks eye contact. “I don’t have one. We don’t really need them in Florida.”

  A growl rumbles through me. I really am an asshole. Breaking from her intoxicating presence, I storm over to a closet. I rummage around and find my warmest coat. When I offer it to her, she beams.

  “Thank you.”

  I stare at her for another beat before scrubbing at my jaw with my palm. “You ready to go freeze our asses off, snow girl?”

  Holy shit, it’s cold.

  Playing outside when it’s cold as fuck is not my idea of a fun time but seeing her bright smiles, her rosy-colored nose and cheeks, and hearing her adorable laughter has me here for the duration. I’m staring at her pitiful snowman when something hard hits me on the side of the head.

  “What the—”

  Another icy and painful blast hits me in the face.

  “Snowball fight!”

  I watch her run as fast as her short legs will carry her, her head turning back every so often to see if I’m following. My heart races and my blood burns as it rushes through my veins. The very idea of chasing her sets my soul ablaze.

  “You better run faster than that, sweetheart,” I bellow. “I’m going
to get you!”

  She squeals and it echoes off the trees. The storm is in full force and I’m worried that things will get worse before they get better. All worrying thoughts dissipate, though, when she stops to lob yet another snowball at me.

  It hits me hard in the center of my chest.

  This girl should be playing softball or some shit.

  I limp, thanks to the cold bothering my injury, quickly through the snow and she doesn’t get far from me. With a growl, I tackle her into the snow. We both go down hard and I briefly worry I might have hurt her. But then she’s giggling and screeching as she tries to get away.

  “Let me go,” she cries out.

  I grab a handful of snow and smash it against her face, reveling in her laughter. She squirms and fights me until she’s on her back. I pin her in the snow and hold her wrists so she can’t throw any more snowballs at me.

  The snow begins falling heavier, blanketing her hair and face. The tiny flakes land on her eyelashes and she blinks them away. With my gloved hand, I release her wrist and then set to dusting away the snow. She lets out a soft, husky sigh that has my dick at attention.

  “You caught me.” She smiles at me. An angel. Perfection.

  “I’m not letting you go.”

  Her eyes widen at my words and I want to reel them back in. I meant literally, but then I let my mind wonder so many what-ifs that will get me in some serious fucking trouble.

  A shudder ripples through her and her teeth begin to chatter.

  “We’ve been out here too long,” I say, my voice strained.

  She nods but seems reluctant to want to get up. It takes everything in me not to press my lips to hers. Instead, I pull away and help her up. The wind howls and pelts us with more snow and ice. Like the fool that I am, I tug her into my chest and wrap my protective arms around her to shield her from the storm. She’s stiff at first but then hugs me back. With her ear pressed against my chest, all is right in my world.

  She’s a teenager.