Uh, probably what every other parent pays. And his separate donations shouldn’t come with a list of instructions. Sometimes she wished she could say what was really on her mind. She also dreamed of drafting a disclaimer parents should sign that stated Money donated to Preston Academy in no way makes me an authority on how it should be run. If I have ideas and opinions, I will present them at the next school board meeting. However, I will not wine, dine, or bribe my way through the school board members to sway their decision.
She pulled into the garage with more speed than she intended, stomping on the brakes before she went out his back wall into what was probably a tidy backyard.
The garage darkened as the door descended. She was officially on a date. With the guy who’d kept her up at night all week. She peeked at him as she gathered her purse. He was climbing out of his vehicle, the twisting motion tightening his T-shirt around his abs. How had she underplayed how good-looking he was? It was like her brain had gone into survival mode because she could plummet hard for a guy like him.
His dark blond hair rode the line between trimmed and shaggy. Intelligence shone in his eyes without the peacock displays for her benefit. His form-fitting shirt and worn jeans hugged his body at unexpected times. All of it together made him catnip to her puma. She wanted to pounce on him and see if he tasted as delicious as he had the first time.
He had reached her side of the car by the time she got out.
“Thanks for letting me use the garage.” She glanced around. There wasn’t much extra room outside of the vehicles, but he had a snowblower and a lawn mower neatly lined up on the far side. The workbench that stretched across the front was also organized, but with tools that actually looked used and not for show.
He didn’t hire a lawn service. How did that exponentially increase his sexiness? She clutched her tote lest she jump into his arms before they stepped foot in his house.
“I was inventorying my kitchen on the way here,” he said with a lopsided grin. Even his expressions were relaxed and unpracticed. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I can make you the best damn grilled cheese you’ve ever had, or we can order pizza.”
Her stomach took on a mind of its own and flipped and stretched like it was preening under the options. Her nanny used to the make the best grilled cheeses in the history of cheese and bread, yet Natalia had had enough of the gourmet pizzas in the eateries she went to. Pizza was supposed to be greasy and cheesy and that quality was assumed if a place delivered.
“I…can’t decide. I don’t have enough of either one in my life.”
“And you work around teenagers? I’m surprised.” He led her to the door to his house.
“You have to remember Preston Academy teenagers aren’t like the rest.” Or what was the point of a private school? Their graduates went on to do spectacular things with their lives. Professionally, at least. Natalia was living the Preston Academy dream—for her dad, at least.
His reaction wasn’t what she expected. “Right? I doubt many of their dads are cooking for them each night.”
She’d be surprised if their parents knew how to cook. If microwaves hadn’t been invented, Natalia would’ve starved. Ordering in had become so commonplace she was working on her “usual” at every place she ordered and she’d been in Minneapolis less than two months.
Good thing she moved so often. Her options changed every few years.
She stepped into his house. Even the entry was cute, with white crown molding and white trim along the walls. She dropped her purse and followed him into the kitchen. The house screamed well used, unlike the brand-new townhome she rented that was so bare not even a ghost would be interested in haunting it.
The cupboards in the kitchen were all white, but since the space was small, it worked to open it up. The cherrywood floor had to be original, but like the rest of the home, it was well maintained with a glossy sheen.
She leaned against the counter on the dining room side. There were two barstools and even though an oak table with four chairs was behind her, she suspected he and Jaycee never sat there. “I’m not as interested in whether their parents cook for them or not. I just wish the families would eat together more.” Just like she’d wished her parents had been around for meals. Natalia had enjoyed all of her nannies, but it wasn’t the same as feeling like Mom and Dad wanted to be around her, wanted her around for more than carrying on the empire they’d built.
“Speaking of how awesome I cook, I’m going to order a pizza.” He set his phone on the counter and tapped away at the screen. “I have to admit I think there would’ve been more issues with Jaycee if I hadn’t left my career for a more flexible job. Her mother foisting her off on me did more damage than I could’ve imagined.”
Again, he agreed with her. She could get used to this. Usually when she brought her frustrations to the school counselor, they felt it was their duty to remind her about all the important things the parents were doing. She understood parents who had to work all hours to pay the bills. But working extra for the vacation home in Belize? Maybe scale back and let the kid know their parents gave a shit. But enough about work. She wanted to learn more about Chris.
“What career?” She tried to picture him doing…she couldn’t come up with an example. His easy grin and Justice League T-shirt fit him so well. So did the broad shoulders and tight ass she’d glimpsed when he’d entered the house before her.
He looked up from his phone, finger hovering over the screen. “Would it surprise you that I’m a Preston graduate?”
She sucked in a breath. With that simple statement, her dream man morphed into everyone she’d ever dated before. “Seriously?” Was her dismay obvious?
“Done.” He tucked his phone away. “I have an app that is too convenient. Jaycee and I have pizza night once a week, so… Anyway, Preston, yeah. That’s how I met her mother. I wouldn’t have been able to go, but I got a scholarship for basketball. Go Preston Knights, right?”
“What?” Now her voice was full of horror. Chris was one of the full-ride kids for a freaking sport? But—but—he was her sexy comic book geek.
“Hard to tell by looking at me, right?” He was misinterpreting her disbelief. Dammit, how could her perception of him spin on a dime? “My dad was a loan officer at a bank and he was chatting with the president one day about my scoring average. Next thing you know, Preston was calling Dad up. My parents not being able to afford the school otherwise was foul one against me according to Cierra’s parents.”
Natalia hadn’t even talked to the woman on the phone. Cierra was apparently content to let Chris deal with all things Jaycee.
“Have you fouled out yet?” she asked, surprised she could match basketball lingo with Chris.
He grinned and her heart stopped. Those shoulders. His height. She pictured his strong body going in for a jump shot, his focus on the hoop. She didn’t usually go soft over athletes, but when they had a fanboy personality, it was a potent combination.
“Yes, which brings us back to your earlier question about what I’d been doing for living. Before I got full custody of Jaycee, I was on the city council for Minneapolis. That wasn’t prestigious enough to impress Cierra’s parents, but I had just gotten elected to the state senate. I stepped down before I even started. I couldn’t be away from Jaycee for those long days.”
Natalia blinked. He was a politician? An athlete and a politician? And a Preston grad? She apparently wasn’t straying from the type she’d sworn she wouldn’t date again.
His smiled died. “That bad?”
She tugged one of the stools over even though she shouldn’t be settling in to stay. “It’s not that.” She owed him more of an explanation since she must’ve looked horrified. “I mean, yes, it is. I’ve dated guys just like you and it hasn’t turned out well. But I guess I’ve never met any of them at a comic con.”
“That’s the key.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Is it. Does it go the other way? Have you dated other women like
me?”
“That’s a resounding no. They’ve all been disturbingly similar to Cierra.” He went to the stool next to her and they faced each other like they were at a real bar and not in an old but well-cared-for house. “You’ve heard similar stories. Guy tries to marry girl. Girl’s family thinks he’s trash. Breakup and serial dating of the exact same type occurs.”
“You wanted to marry her?” How old had he been?
“The sun rose and set with her—at the time. But she made her wishes known.” His expression darkened like he was remembering the pain it had caused. “My dad worked for the bank president instead of being the president. And my mom sold insurance; she didn’t own the company. All those fouls against me and they thought it was better to have an unwed mother for a daughter.”
“Ouch.” In this day and age, that shouldn’t be a scandal, but it would be for the families who attended Preston.
He lifted a shoulder, only bringing attention to how close he was and how much she liked gripping his shoulders. “It worked out. We’re both grateful we didn’t marry, and now she’s happily dating and reclaiming those lost years when she was stuck with a child at home.”
“Role reversal?” This probably wasn’t the sexiest topic but learning about him had become her new favorite pastime.
“You could say that.” He lifted the hood on her sweater and dropped it. “Looks like I’m not the only Preston Academy grad in the room.”
“Ding, ding, ding.” The last thing she wanted to talk about was the school. Dresden still hadn’t served his detention and if he didn’t show after school on Monday, the battle went to round two. “I went to the one in Seattle.” And Hartford, Atlanta, and Chicago.
“Was it as stuffy and uptight as this one? No offense.” He winked.
“They try to be.” She gave her voice the same inflection as Alfred the butler. “We have standards to maintain, Master Wayne.” She sighed. “It’s exhausting.”
“Being the villain is never easy.”
“At least they seem to be having fun in the comics.” Or believed in what they did. “Every bad guy is the hero in their own story. I guess we’ll have to see whether I’ll prevail or not.”
Chapter 5
“You’re right,” Natalia announced. “It’s better the second time around.”
Chris had known she’d agree. He shut the TV off in the middle of the rolling credits and massaged her feet as she reclined against the armrest of the sofa. They’d had their pizza. He hadn’t asked her preference when he’d ordered, but he hadn’t wanted to interrupt their conversation. And the way her eyes lit up when he’d mentioned it, he’d pegged her for a cheese or Canadian bacon girl. Or pepperoni, but he couldn’t stand the stuff, not even for a hot fangirl who looked adorable in his living room.
That was a lie. He’d eat all the pepperoni if she demanded it. Especially if she was in that tight bun and skirt when she did it.
Digging into the ball of her right foot, he enjoyed the way her eyes glazed over. “I’m kind of disappointed you’ve only seen Suicide Squad once before tonight.”
She leaned her head on the armrest and closed her eyes. “Didn’t I mention that I prefer Marvel movies?”
He ran his finger up the bottom of her foot. She squealed and jerked her foot back. He followed, stretching out on top of her. “You take that back.”
Her sharp inhale and the desire that flared in her eyes encouraged him not to back away. She stared up at him, her eyes luminous, her body molten underneath him. That damn sweatshirt was covering the best of her curves. It was no longer as cute as it had been in the store.
“I guess we’re done watching movies?” Her breathy tone ignited the lust that had been simmering all evening. She shifted underneath him, her legs parting to cradle him.
He settled farther over her, propping his arms behind her back to spare her from an awkward angle. Their mouths were a whisper apart, but he didn’t close the distance yet. “Is there anything else you want to see?”
“I came here to see you and I happen to be exactly where I want to be.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Had she surprised herself? Because he was delighted.
Dropping his head, their lips touched. He took his time, savoring the satin of her lips, the way her chest pressed into him when she took a breath. She opened for him first, her tongue darting out.
Yes. He’d been dreaming about her kisses for a week, but it had felt like months. A low rumble reverberated in his chest as he deepened the kiss. She tasted like the sparkling strawberry water they’d been drinking—fresh, fruity, and tingly.
She skimmed her hands up his back and his shirt bunched up with the effort. He’d take it off but he didn’t want to break the kiss. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t break the kiss all night. Her embrace tightened as she surged into him, rubbing her pelvis against his. He’d been half hard around her all night, but blood rushed to his center until his erection was painful and aching. He answered by rocking into her.
To keep her from being crunched into the corner of the sofa, he maneuvered one arm between them to tunnel underneath her sweater. Her skin was soft, hot, and so smooth he didn’t think he’d ever be able to keep his hands to himself around her. The inviting curves of her back ran under his hand until the lace of her bra hit his fingertips. Deftly tucking his fingers under the band, he tested its resistance. The elastic gave easily until he could lift the bra above her breasts.
He closed his hand over a warm mound of flesh, and she arched into him. It was hard to maintain the kiss with an arm between them and their frantic undulating. He abandoned her mouth to nibble a path under her chin. She shivered in his arms, her moan echoing in his ears while her legs wrapped around his hips.
He wanted her naked, but it was too soon. Having her in his house, in his arms, was more than enough. She was willing to risk discovery, but if they took it too fast, too soon, she might talk herself out of exploring how strong this connection was between them.
He trailed a path with his mouth to her collarbone, his face tucked into her sweatshirt. Rolling her nipple between his fingers, he debated lifting her top to get at it with his lips, but she was straining under him like she wanted more, needed more. He abandoned her breast, his hand mourning the loss of her heat, and found the waistband to her pants.
He almost cheered when he realized it was an elastic waist, no button or zipper. Weren’t those called jeggings or something? He didn’t care at the moment. For once the state of women’s fashion didn’t perplex him. She’d loosened the hold her legs had around him, creating enough of a gap he could wedge a hand between her clothing and skin.
Blood hammered through his cock. Losing the stimulation of her rocking against him was maddening, but he didn’t have to worry as much about making a mess in his pants. He wanted to see to her pleasure. He got his own pleasure from her breathy gasps and the way she writhed under him.
The material of her underwear was lacy like her bra. He bet they matched. Ms. Shaw didn’t go for unmatched undergarments. Maybe someday he’d get to see, but tonight he was content to ride the wave of sensations between them.
He dipped under her panties. Her skin was hot and the farther he went, the wetter she got. Her excitement made it easier to slide a finger through her folds.
She jerked in his arms. “Chris.” He was about to quit when she went liquid and rocked her hips up into him. The move stroked his finger along her clit and she moaned.
Emboldened, he circled her nub again and was rewarded with another breathy moan. Those sounds were going to haunt him each night he went to bed alone. He’d never be able to go to sleep with a cold shower and stroking one off again. He’d been deluding himself for years that he wasn’t missing this.
And he wasn’t really. He wasn’t losing out on anything with the wrong person. He was missing this with the right person.
She fit him perfectly.
He changed positions to rub her clit with his thumb and thread a finger insi
de of her. She was wet and tight and so hot he didn’t need any stimulation to worry about coming in his pants. Her hips thrust against him, seeking a release. She groaned and moaned, giving him a glimpse into the uninhibited woman who could dress like Valaria and play a contact sport like roller derby. How many saw this side of her?
He was selfish to hope he was the only one.
“Chris,” she whined again. Oh yes. A guy could get used to a woman begging him for her release in bed. He’d never felt more powerful. Not after he won the election, not after Arcadia’s opening day, not in any other intimate moment. No other woman made him feel like he should don a cape and stand proudly with his hands on his hips.
He wanted to kiss her again but muffling those erotic noises would be a sin. Instead, he licked and nibbled along her neck as he circled and thrust with his hand.
Her legs had untangled from around his waist until they were drawn to her sides.
His forearm threatened to cramp, but he adjusted his position.
“Don’t stop,” she barked. At some point, she’d wound her hands through his hair, pinning his head into the crook of her neck.
Heat flooded his hand and she tensed. “Chris!” She bucked and cried out.
His hair got pulled as she jerked and shuddered, but he could only smile. He was in a state of pain with the throb of his erection, but he was a happy man.
She stilled and her grip eased. He lifted his head, unable to hide his huge grin. He kept his hand where it was, still inside of her but no longer stimulating the bundle of nerves.
“You look proud.” She sounded accusatory, but the smile playing along her lips ruined the effect.
“I kinda am. That was pretty spectacular.” He slipped his hand out. Desire flashed in her eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to withdraw from her clothing entirely. She was everything warm and feminine he’d been dreaming about in a woman, someone who didn’t laugh off his interests and hobbies as juvenile.
“For me, yes. You did all the work.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and was starting to push him back, a predatory gleam in her eyes, when the Batman theme song from the sixties burst through the room.
Based on Principal: Fanboys Book 3 Page 5
