My eyebrows shot up. “Um, no?”
“Ancient civilizations, especially Hebrew ones, revered crowns as a way to describe authority and honor—the highest place given, the highest price paid, the last thing to be created. Think of yourself, Kora, as the great crescendo. Have you been living life on mute, or have you been living it so loud that people have to take notice of your beauty? Your strength? The masterpiece that you are?”
I tried to speak, but I didn’t even know what to say. How was a senior in college telling me these things? Why did he make sense? And why was my mouth hanging open like this?
I quickly closed it and then answered. “Sometimes, it’s easier to go unnoticed.”
“Ah…” Leo winked. “But, the world would be a sad place if it didn’t take notice of you.”
“Agreed,” Finn said behind me. “I think our new client needs an assignment.”
“My, my how the tables have turned,” Slater said to my left and then nodded to Leo. Was he their leader or something?
“Our time’s almost up.” Leo crossed his arms. “Which means homework for the professor.” His face lit up like it amused him, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to strangle him or kiss him for the breakthrough.
Then again, I was a client.
No kissing, right?
No anything.
It was best that way.
I couldn’t imagine a girl not getting attached when an attractive guy with low slung jeans and an eight-pack told her she was the crown of creation.
I mean, hello? Tinder was full of dick pics.
So it made sense.
“Lay it on me.” I smiled.
Leo licked his lips, his eyes darting to my mouth briefly before he looked away and said, “No more buns and you have to wear a color, any color, it can be fire engine red for all I care, but something that makes you happy, brings attention, and most importantly, wear something he would fucking hate.”
I laughed at that.
The rest of the guys chuckled with me.
Man, it felt good to laugh about that idiot.
“All right.” I stood. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, do.” Leo winked. “Wouldn’t wanna give you an F on your first assignment, not to our new star student.”
“Cute.” I rolled my eyes. “I see what you did there.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s only fair.”
“True.” I stared at him harder, wondering when the boy from high school had grown into this wise man with all the muscles and the ability to tilt my world on its axis all through a smug grin and an easy wink.
“So…” Finn coughed. “Use the Wingmen portal to set up your next session. We typically do three to six for first-timers, depending on their needs. And we’ll send you an appointment reminder when the time gets closer.”
I let out a long exhale. “Great. Thanks.”
Slater opened the door to the main living room and then took the glass from my hand with an easy smile. “You did well.”
“Thanks for the help.” I was practically floating.
“It’s what we do,” Leo said from behind him, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my entire body heat with longing.
No. Bad.
Student. Student.
Well, I guess now I was the student, and he was the teacher?
Ugh.
Either way. Bad. All bad.
But it would be good.
“She okay?” Finn asked out loud while I mentally warred with my own conscience.
“YUP!” I nearly yelled. “Sorry, thoughts, lots of… um, thoughts.”
Leo bit down on his lower lip like he knew exactly where my thoughts were going, and his eyes gave me the inclination that he wanted to meet me there.
Several. Times.
“Okay then!” I nearly tripped over my own bag in my rush to leave and then saw a woman in tears standing outside their door. It was a reality check that I desperately needed. I was in a dorm room for God’s sake! A dorm room! And this was their job.
I straightened my spine a bit and walked around the upset girl so the guys could take care of her.
My heart felt like it lost a bit of its happy. Why did that bother me?
“Carli, everything okay?” Slater put his hand on her shoulder.
“C-can we have an emergency session?”
“Of course,” he said smoothly as he wrapped an arm around her and led her into the room.
The door shut.
And that was it.
I almost laughed.
I was really reading into this.
It was their job to make me feel good, to make my heart flutter, to make me feel alive.
And they were damn good at it.
Too good.
Because for the first time in years, I had a smile on my face and wanted nothing more than to wear something that wasn’t black.
Something that showed off my curves.
The hell with it, I was going shopping.
And I was buying heels.
Chapter Nine
“Never take your sexual frustrations out on your pillow. First off, gross. Second, that’s why she probably thinks of you as a eunuch. Third, your pillow is where you put your other head, dipshit.” — Leo Blackwood.
Leo
I was a sexually frustrated, friend-zoned mess.
And I hated everyone.
Most of all, Finn and Slater. Not really for doing anything other than touching her, pouring her more wine, getting a few smiles—all that I could deal with. I mean, I’d just beat the shit out of them later. But the fact that she seemed to respond to them just as much as me? Not cool.
But the giant cherry on top of all of this chaos?
She knew I couldn’t do shit about the way I felt.
She’d said as much.
Out loud.
To my face.
And then smiled such a gorgeous freeing smile that I felt like the worst sort of bastard for even wanting to break the rules of the Wingmen contract.
I’d never been tempted to quit.
But she made me want to just so I could do something stupid like throw her up against a sturdy wall, spread those legs wide and have my way with her.
It wasn’t just the physical, though. It was her emotional response, the way that she seemed so starved for words and touch that I wanted to be the lucky bastard giving them to her.
And not for a price.
But because I wanted to give it.
Hell.
I drummed my fingertips against my desk, too confused to do anything but stare at my stupid computer screen and magically pray for something to appear like a scalding email from my favorite prof.
Nothing.
The guys had gone to grab tacos and the hum of the computer plus the soft sounds of Drake, yeah right, in the background made me want to commit a crime.
I clicked out of my email and into the Wingmen app.
“This isn’t stalking, it’s business.” And I was officially talking to myself.
I scanned her social media info and quickly followed her on Instagram and Facebook and kept scrolling.
Her number.
Right there.
Her cell.
It would be easy to take advantage.
Easy to just send a “hang in there” text.
Friends did that all the time, right?
I vaguely remembered the part where I signed a contract saying I wouldn’t use any client information for anything personal, but this wasn’t personal, right? It was just a Wingmen coach calling up his client to say “s’up?”
Wow. Had I really fallen that low?
Before the angel on my shoulder could tell me no, I programmed her number into my phone high fived the devil on the other side and shot off a quick text.
Me: This is your official check-in. Make sure you hydrate this evening and remember your homework.
There that sounded professional, right?
She texted right
back.
Kora: Is this Finn?
I imagined running him over with my car.
Me: No.
Kora: Slater?
And now Slater was going to get suffocated with a pillow.
Me: No.
And nothing.
Seriously?
I gaped at my screen until finally, the little dots appeared, and she responded.
Kora: Leo then?
Me: Took you long enough.
That… didn’t sound professional, but I was annoyed as hell! Why would they be her first picks? I mean Finn? He still cried during Titanic! He said it was because he had allergies, but we all knew he was full of shit!
Kora: Do you talk to all your clients that way?
Friend. Friend. Friend. Be the friend. Don’t let her provoke you. I took a much-needed deep breath and responded.
Me: I like to think of it as tough love. Just remember to let us know if you need anything and know that it’s normal to feel a bit drained afterward.
Kora: Drained how?
Me: Emotionally. Physically.
Kora: Interesting. I actually feel… revived a bit.
No idea why, but the word “revive” had my dick twitching in a very reviving way, if you get my meaning. FRIEND, you loser, we’re her friend!
Me: How so?
Kora: I don’t know. I just feel like I’ve taken a nice hot bath, you know, with the expensive bath bombs.
Me: The only kind to use, Lush all the way.
Kora: Lol, I should say I’m surprised you know, then again, it’s kind of your job, right? Anyways, yes, lush bath bomb experience, that’s what it felt like, so thank you.
I ground my teeth.
Me: It’s not just my job…
Kora: Don’t.
Me: Don’t what?
Kora: Hit on me. Not now.
Deflated, I stared at the phone in my hand and finally responded.
Me: It’s against the rules. I just want you to know, I would do this for any friend, not just because you need it, which you do, but because you deserve all the good things—all the Lush bath bombs.
Kora: What makes you think I deserve anything good?
Me: What makes you think you don’t?
She didn’t respond for a while and then finally ended our conversation.
Kora: Headed to bed. Thanks again.
So that was it. My game sucked even via text messages, which was where ugly dudes usually took the cake: I’m so funny, I’m so caring, but don’t be pissed when I have a unibrow, cool?
I exhaled a frustrated breath and looked back at my computer screen.
Her address.
With a smile, I suddenly knew what I was going to do.
“Get ready, Kora, I don’t give up easily.”
And there I went talking to myself again as I clicked open a new website and typed in my search.
Chapter Ten
“Gifts aren’t meant to be used as a tool of manipulation but as a way to make the object of your affection feel important. If you’re keeping score, you’re going to die alone.” — Leo Blackwood
Kora
I woke up Wednesday feeling like I could conquer the world—and then I looked at my phone.
More missed calls from Chadwick.
And a text with a question mark.
I deleted the text, ignored the calls, and decided I would deal with him later. Of course, I wanted him to finally sign the paperwork, but it felt like it was just another excuse for him to talk to me about getting back together.
My stomach rolled.
The idea of going to the wedding with him, whether driving in a car or on an airplane, made me want to pack my own parachute and mace.
I shuddered and went into the kitchen to make some coffee when I heard a knock on my apartment door.
I checked the clock on the microwave. It was nine in the morning, the mail wouldn’t be there yet, and I wasn’t expecting anyone.
A cold chill ran down my spine.
Did he have my address?
It wasn’t public, but he was rich. He could get it if he really wanted to.
I looked out the peephole first, saw nothing, waited a few minutes, then opened the door a crack.
Nothing down the hall.
I took a step out and bumped something with my foot.
A package?
Huh.
I smiled down at it. Dumb, but I hadn’t gotten a package or present from anyone in who knew how long? My parents weren’t big on birthdays or holidays and often traveled abroad for Christmas.
I gave the box a little shake and brought it into my apartment then attacked it with a knife.
It smelled amazing.
What was it?
Purple tissue paper was taped together with a note on the inside.
“Remember your assignments.” —XOXO Leo
My smile actually hurt my face as I tugged open the tissue paper and saw at least two hundred dollars’ worth of Lush bath bombs.
And then tears stung the back of my eyes as I realized it was the first gift I’d been given… that didn’t have strings attached.
I quickly pulled out my cell and sent Leo a text.
Me: Thank you for the bath bombs. I can’t wait to come home tonight.
Leo: THAT right there, is music to my ears. Home should be your sanctuary. Enjoy, Kora.
I shivered at his mention of my name, and the guy wasn’t even saying it. I just imagined the caress of his mouth as he murmured it.
Damn it.
Talk about inappropriate thoughts about a student. I could have some very, very inappropriate ones about him.
At least the client contract protected us on both sides—him from continuing to blatantly hit on me, and me from falling for his ridiculous charm.
And yet, when I went to my room to get ready and stood in front of my closet, it was Leo I thought about.
When I went to my lingerie drawer and bypassed my Spanx in favor of a lacy black pair of boy shorts, when I went to the bathroom and added a bright pink lip gloss and a bit of mascara, when I put on a pair of tall heels, when I put on my leather pencil skirt and tucked my pale blouse in.
I imagined him the entire drive to school.
And smiled as I sent him a quick text that said, “Hope I get an A.”
Chapter Eleven
“Nothing better than a woman who knows her way around a nice, crisp red apple. See also: Bite me next.” — Leo Blackwood
Leo
High School Senior Year
“You’re late, Blackwood.” Mrs. Robinson didn’t even turn away from the smart board as I slumped into my desk and flashed a smile toward her perfect ass.
Was it wrong to stare? Yes.
Could I help myself? I growled. That would be a hell no.
“Sorry.” I finally got the word out. “I’ll try harder next time, Mrs. R.”
“Try any harder and brain cells will start dying,” she teased, looking at me over her shoulder playfully.
I barked out a laugh. “Easy, my ego may die along with them.”
The room erupted into laughs from the guys, sighs from the girls.
“Hardly likely.” She smiled and then grabbed the US History book. “All right, open to page sixty-nine.”
My entire body tightened with awareness. The class chuckled. I was too busy locking eyes with my teacher.
Hers were narrowed on me.
But they stayed there for a solid three seconds before she cleared her throat and looked away.
Anyone watching would think it was a death stare.
They wouldn’t notice the erratic pulse at the base of her neck or the way she shifted on her feet as if she was trying to clench her thighs.
But I noticed everything about her.
Always would.
She was the only teacher who gave me shit.
Who forced me to work hard when the rest passed me because I was the quarterback.
Sometimes I wondered if she was the o
nly one who saw me at all.
Class went by in a blur. I grabbed my backpack and started to put my books away.
“Blackwood.” She barked out my name. “Stay for a minute.”
“Leo’s in trouble again…” Eustice teased jogging by me toward the gym, where we had practice in a half hour.
Students shuffled out, and then it was just her and me.
I strutted over to her desk and crossed my arms. “Finally admitting that you like me, Mrs. R?”
“Mrs.” She repeated the word with heavy emphasis. “Means I’m taken, and even if I wasn’t… Prison.”
“I’m eighteen.”
She scowled. “Leo, you can’t keep coming to class late.”
“I have straight A’s,” I pointed out.
“That’s not the point.” She stood, and it felt like she was towering over me when the exact opposite was true. “People follow you. Whether you like it or not you’re a leader to the underclassmen, can you at least try to be a good example, so we don’t have a million seniors like you next year?”
I smiled at that. “You sound genuinely worried I’m gonna haunt the place.”
Her cheeks went pink. “I’m serious.”
“And I’m not?” I leaned forward. “You have really pretty eyes, you know.”
“Leo.” Her tone was scathing. “What works on your other female teachers won’t work on me.”
“I know.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Because I don’t compliment my other teachers. And before you say anything, I think Mrs. Turner has wonderful hair despite the lazy eye.”
She pressed her lips tighter like she was trying not to smile.
“And that brief issue with gout.” I leaned closer. “It’s okay to laugh.”
She sighed and looked away. “Promise me you’ll try.”
“I’ll do better.” I reached out and grabbed one of her pens, then started flipping it between my fingers. “I’ll do it. But only because you asked nicely and because you have a solid point—I would feel horrible if you cried yourself to sleep next year because every male student reminded you of me.”
She coughed out a laugh. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“Don’t have to.” I shrugged. “I see it in your eyes.”
Seducing Mrs. Robinson Page 5
