by Peyton Banks
There was definitely something illicit going on with that, but given it was one of the few places where I could drink out front at my own gig, rather than just in the band room, I wasn’t about to start questioning it too much.
“And who cares about the age gap? You didn’t seem to when we were recreating Last Tango in Paris in that hotel room. And as far as me being your student is concerned, nobody needs to know. We can keep it on the DL. I’m not about to run Instagram ads telling world. I can be discreet—I kept it together this morning, even while in shock, didn’t I?”
“Ha! Only just. And the fact is, you had me really fucking worried that you wouldn’t. And as for being discreet, really? Is that some kind of joke? So says the guy who’s standing in the carpark initiating a standoff with a lecturer he supposedly only met for the first time that morning, while”—she did a double take—“dangling my bra from his index finger. Wait. Why the fuck do you have my bra dangling from your index finger?”
I waggled my finger, causing the undergarment in question to swing lightly, before answering.
“Because in something similar a modern-day reverse Cinderella situation, when you fled the ball. No…wait. When you fled my balls before the clock struck six a.m., it was the only connection I had to you. It’s been in the glove box ever since.” I probably shouldn’t have revealed that last part. Even to my own ears, it sounded a little stalkerish and crazy. The look on her face confirmed my suspicions.
“Okay. But why do you have it here and now?”
“Oh, right. I guess I thought it might help to persuade you to my way of thinking.”
“You mean you’re blackmailing me.”
“No, not at all. I’m negotiating. This and the fact that I’m parking you in are the only leverage I have right now.”
“Yeah, well I wouldn’t bank on it. If you won’t move, I’ll be calling security and asking them to ‘negotiate’ with you.”
“Fine. I guess you’ll also explain to them how I came to be in possession of your underwear.”
“What underwear? I’ve never seen that before in my life. It doesn’t even look like my size. You seem like a lovely kid, but you’re clearly delusional.”
Fuck. She was pretty convincing. If I almost believed her, even while knowing the truth, I was sure others would too. I didn’t fancy my chances if it was a case of her word against mine.
“Oh, is that how you’re going to play it? I’m some kind of crazy person?”
She shrugged, giving off a strong air of indifference.
I almost bought it. Almost.
“Look, Chantelle, Natalie, or whatever your name is.”
“It’s Natalie, but given we’re still on college grounds, it’s Dr. Patterson to you right now.”
“Look, Natalie.” I was being an asshole, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. “I know you don’t want to air your dirty laundry, any more than I want to be hauled up by campus cops, so how about this: I’ll move my car if you promise to come for one drink.” I waited nervously for her to make her decision.
“For God’s sake! Okay. One drink, Luke, then we’re done, okay?”
I nodded, not daring to speak the lie aloud.
14
Natalie
As we settled down in “our” booth at The Basement, I actually began to question my own sanity. After doing my angry-black-woman routine in the car park, complete with arms folded across my bosom and much kissing of teeth, I’d basically let Luke railroad me into carrying on a conversation with him that shouldn’t even have been entertained, both because the whole situation was screwed up, and because of the way he’d acted in the parking lot.
As we’d driven our separate cars to the bar, so many times on the way there I’d considered home instead, leaving him hanging, yet there I was sitting exactly where I had been when we’d first met, trying not to think about how attracted I still was to him, as I watched him order our drinks. He might have been young. He might have been my student—so completely off limits—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fine as fuck, because he was. Too fine.
When he returned to the table he took me by surprise, sliding into the seat next to me and angling his body my way, just as he had the night we met. Only this time he didn’t have the loud music as an excuse for wanting to be in my personal space. Oh shit. I struggled to remember why I’d even agreed to the drink in the first place, given that being so close to him was proving to be a bigger challenge than I’d anticipated. Being able to look at him properly for the first time that day shook my resolve more with every passing second.
Neither of us spoke for the longest time, instead devouring each other with our eyes. I noted the heat flaring in his emerald gaze and knew it reflected the desire blazing in my own. No matter how complicated the situation was and how inappropriate it would be to become any more involved with him than I already was, I couldn’t deny I was wildly attracted to him. Scarily so, in fact.
I took a sip of my Coke—I’d skipped the rum this time—I didn’t trust myself with both alcohol and Luke in close proximity. Not that I was thirsty, but the drink gave me a welcome distraction, and give me something to stare at, other than Luke’s mesmerizing eyes. Dwelling too long there sent me down a dangerous road, and I needed to put a stop to it while I still could.
“So tell me about Marnie
“What? Why are you asking about her, and why now?” Both his tone of voice and facial expression told me I’d hit a raw nerve.
“I’m asking because I get the sense there’s a story there. The way you looked at her and spoke about her that night, suggested the two of you were more than just friends, yet she’s actually dating your brother. It all seemed a little Pretty In Pink, with the whole unrequited love, slash falling for the wrong guy thing, so I’m curious. I’m asking now because there hasn’t been another opportunity.
“That wasn’t my choice. I wasn’t the one telling lies and sneaking out without leaving their number, was I?”
I’d walked right into that.
“No, you weren’t, but to be fair, I didn’t exactly lie. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth. Chantelle is my middle name, and, strictly speaking, I am a teacher. It’s just that people mostly think children when they think of teaching, and adults when they hear the word lecturer. Anyway, don’t think I didn’t notice the change of subject. This isn’t A Few Good Men, so you can save your interrogation.”
“Ha! Really? I could say the same thing to you.”
“You could, but I’ve actually explained myself and answered your questions, whereas all you’ve done is deflected mine.”
I did genuinely want to know what the deal was with him and his “friend,” as I definitely didn’t buy his casual response the first time around. However, that wasn’t my main motivation for asking. I figured that if anything could put the brakes on our desire, it was a conversation about another woman for whom Luke clearly had complex feelings.
He sighed big before responding. “It’s complicated.” No shit. That part I’d figured out myself.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
I almost pointed about that they were basically still kids, but I kept my mouth in check. Just.
“There was chemistry there from the get-go, but neither of us acted on it. Now she’s with my brother, and that’s it, really.”
Umm…no.
“So she’s with your identical twin brother, and you’ve just brushed it off? Come on, who are you trying to kid?”
“I didn’t say I’ve brushed it off, but it was a long time ago, so I’ve had time to deal with it I guess is the best way to describe it.”
“So you have no lingering feelings for her?”
“No.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Luke sighed heavily. “Yes. Kind of. No. I care for her deeply, as a friend. She’s been through a lot. Like, more than anyone should ever have to, and I worry about her, that’s all.”
The look on his face told me i
t was far from all.
“I know my brother better than anyone does, and I wouldn’t recommend him to my worst enemy’s daughter, let alone to Marnie, you know? So it’s only natural that I worry.”
I remained unconvinced that was all there was to it. However, my biggest concern was that my attempt to steer the conversation in a direction that would distract us from our undeniable chemistry, totally backfired on me. The vulnerability in his voice and on his face as he spoke about his concern for his friend only served to add more feels, not detract from them.
I had been concentrating so much on watching and listening to him speak that I hadn’t noticed him tracing patterns on my bare arm with the backs of his fingers. His touch was light but somehow measured and deliberate. In fact, there was nothing casual about Luke. He was intentioned and intense in everything he did. I went from oblivious to his movements to hyperaware, my skin erupting into goose bumps all over. I wanted him to stop, but I needed him to carry on.
15
Luke
“Luke.” Her voice held a note of warning.
“Natalie?” Mine held an unspoken question. Her real name still sounded foreign on my lips.
“We can’t.” Yet we’re going to.
It wasn’t a matter of if, but of when, where, and how.
“You need to stop touching me like that.”
No. I need to fuck you.
“I don’t need to do any such thing. More to the point, you don’t want me to.” I studied her face, waiting for the lie to follow. She peered back at me, unable to mask her desire. She held my gaze and let her see her truth. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, and if I played my cards right, she was mine.
I moved my hand higher up her arm with each movement. Such a small, innocent-seeming gesture, yet so incredibly hot. I was getting harder by the moment, and we hadn’t even kissed. I inched even higher, and, as I stroked the dip of her shoulder and neck, she reached up and squeezed my fingers, imploring me with my eyes to stop, even as she moved her head to the side, allowing me better access.
“Luke.”
“Shhh… Don’t.” I hushed her gently.
“Don’t what?”
“Stop saying my name like you want me to stop. Don’t lie to me or yourself.”
I’d been watching the deep rise and fall of her chest as we spoke, but with my final words, the movement stopped completely. I waited. She was as still as a statue.
“Natalie. Breathe.”
She inhaled sharply, looking at me as though seeing me for the first time.
“I am breathing. I’m just trying to work out what the fuck is going on here, and what I’m going to do next.”
Now it was my turn to freeze, waiting for her next move.
Moments later, she turned her head sideways, taking me by surprise by angling her lips toward the palm of my hand and kissing it gently. I didn’t miss a beat, not wanting to give her chance to change her mind. Instead, I slid both hands behind her neck, leaned down toward her, and gently pulled her lips to mine.
This kiss was different to the ones we’d shared before. We’d crossed a line—I knew her real name and where she worked. I knew she wanted me, although she didn’t want to. I knew she’d been on my mind night and day since the night we met and that having found her again, I wasn’t going to let her dodge me this time. I pressed my lips into hers, slipping my tongue into her mouth. The kiss was frantic and consuming. I wanted to somehow absorb the essence of her. To possess her.
I wanted to take the kiss further, but given we were in a public place, I held back, wrenching my lips from hers.
“Let’s dance.”
She blinked at me in confusion, her light eyes flashing shades of amber and jade as I stared into them.
“What?”
At some point while we’d been speaking, the DJ had started playing, and the dance floor had begun to fill up.
“Dance with me?”
“Okay, but I warn you: I may be black, and built like this”—she motioned to her perfect body—“but I don’t twerk.”
I stifled laughter.
She was ridiculous—beautiful, smart as all get out, a film buff, and funny as hell. I was pitching above my weight, for sure.
“Well, I should warn you that I may be white, and built like this…” I motioned to my toned body. “But I can dance.” That got a laugh from her too. I liked that we shared a similar goofy sense of humor—it added yet another layer to my attraction to her.
It being Monday, The Basement wasn’t as crazy busy as it had been the night we’d met, and the vibe, including the music, was much mellower. It wasn’t quite slow jams, but definitely the kind of music that leant itself to more intimate dancing. Perfect.
I reached out, offering her my hand as she stepped out of the booth, then quickly pulled her in front of me so that she was pressed to my body, sandwiched between me and the edge of the table.
“Hey! I thought you said you wanted to dance.”
“I did, and we will, just not on the dance floor.” She looked confused, as I held her gaze, and hoisted her up onto the edge of the table, spreading her legs a little so that I fit between them. The raised platform the table was mounted on gave me the perfect angle to grind my erection into her in a slow circular motion in time to the beat.
A faint smile played on the edge of her lips as she worked out my intention, and began to slowly rotate her shapely hips. Jesus. I brought my hands to the base of her butt, pressing her even harder into me. The added pressure brought me both pleasure and pain, as she ground into my stiff dick. She was sexy beyond belief, and I marveled at the fact that I could be so turned on, fully clothed and in a public, albeit somewhat darkened place. I wanted to fuck her right there on the table top.
“We can’t.”
Had she been reading my mind?
“Can’t what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking right now isn’t going to happen. It can’t happen.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? So you’re cool? You get that this isn’t going to be a thing?”
“Oh, it’s going to be a thing. What I was thinking about was stripping you naked and fucking you on this table for everyone to see. Obviously that’s not going to happen. Unless you’re down, of course? In which case I’m totally here for that.” She looked like she wanted to slap me. “No? I figured not. So back to Plan A.”
“Plan A?”
I was beginning to think that confused was my favorite facial expression of hers. Apart from orgasmic, of course, which was one I hoped to see a lot more of in the future.
16
Natalie
Honest to God, he was going to be the death of me with his boundary-pushing ways. Actually, everything about him was killing me—his sharply chiseled jaw and sparkling emerald eyes, his firm, developed chest and abs, adorned with a smattering of moody-looking tattoos, his strong thighs, and his ever-ready dick.
I’d forgotten that about guys his age—they were a walking perma hard-on—but his youthful over-confidence and boyish charm were top of the list. He busted out that smile when he’d said something he knew he shouldn’t have and had overstepped a line. The trouble was, as much as I was resisting it, I really wanted to jump over that line with him. I’d thought of him often since that first night, and had to practically sit on my hands every evening when I considered how easy it would be to hit him up via social media.
Not doing so was a feat of extreme restraint and self-discipline. However, seeing him in the classroom like that had weakened that self-discipline considerably, and then seeing him leaned up against his car all Rebel Without a Cause-like had pretty much smashed my powers of resistance to pieces. Being in the same space and able to kiss, stroke, and squeeze each other did not help my resolve at all.
Despite the fact that there could never be anything between us, and that even thinking otherwise was a disaster waiting to happen, the pull toward him was very real, and very strong. Maybe it was just a hormon
al thing—sexual attraction based purely on a chemical reaction between our bodies, rather than our minds—but I still wanted him, and I loved that he clearly wanted me just as much.
“Plan A is that we take this thing to the band room, rather than put on a floor show out here.”
I dropped my eyelids a moment, wanting to buy time to decide what to do next without, having the pressure of those intense green eyes staring me down and stirring me up. I couldn’t believe I was even in this position—contemplating what to do about a “situation” with a guy who was still clinging to his teens, and who it now turned out, in an extra-cruel twist of fate, was a student of mine. It was fucked up with a capital How the fuck did I get myself into these situations?
I opened my eyes slowly and found Luke staring down at me, reading my features, just as I knew he would be.
“We can go into the band room. To talk. It’s kind of loud in here, now that the DJ is playing. The hustle and bustle is distracting, too.”
“Okay. Come on, let’s go.” He was already holding my hand, pulling me gently to go with him.
“Did you hear me? I said we’re going to talk.”
“Yeah I heard, but right now we seem to be doing the talking part, but not the going. Can we just go already?”
I wondered why the hurry, but doubted I’d get a straight answer from him, so I didn’t bother to ask. I guessed all would become clear when we out back, and I could at least hear myself think.
Once in the band room, Luke closed and locked the door behind us. I stared at the lock long and hard, worried for a brief moment that I’d made a mistake in agreeing to be alone back there with him. He followed my eye line, and maybe my thought process.
“Don’t worry. I’m not about to hack you up into little pieces. This isn’t Scream. I just don’t want us to be disturbed.
