Claimed: The Complete Short Romance Series

by Nichole Rose

  When he first took the Superintendent position, gossip whipped around the halls fast enough to make my head spin. Everyone said he's a former Marine and that his family is ridiculously wealthy. I thought the whispers were simply unsubstantiated rumors, the details of which were made bigger with each retelling. Judging from his size and the suit he's rocking like a Gucci model, I think there may have been a little more truth to said rumors than I thought. This man is larger than life, too very much there to be anything less than remarkable.

  "Are you all right?" The concerned question spills from his lips in a deep rumble of sound, but his severe expression says something entirely different. Irritation settles into the little lines around his eyes and lurks in their dark depths. A hint of that carefully contained frustration touches his tone, seething just below the surface.

  A thrill goes through me, turning my nipples into painfully hard points in my blouse. I like the thought of frustrating this man, of pushing him to the edge just to see what he does. The thought of seeing all that power unleashed is enough to have arousal flaring to life inside me.

  "Are you going to answer me?" he demands.

  The impatient question loosens my tongue, jolting me back into the here and now. What am I even thinking? A man who looks like him probably takes supermodels and socialites to bed, not twenty-five-year-old plus-size virgins. I'm not self-conscious or insecure, but I'm not crazy either. Dr. Sebastian Thorne is light years out of my league. I'm T-ball. He's the MLB.

  "I am so sorry, Thoctor Dorne," I say, fumbling his name in my haste to get the apology out. Humiliation climbs up my face and stains my cheeks red, though I don't know if I'm embarrassed because I ran right into him, because I just butchered the English language, because I can't stop staring at him, or because part of me wishes like hell this man would choose me.

  He is… Good grief! He's sexy as hell.

  A surprised bark of laughter escapes his full lips. The deep timbre of his laugh gives me goosebumps. If orgasms were a sound, they would be his laugh. It's rich, decadent…delicious. Amusement softens his severe expression. Humor dances in his onyx eyes and across his lips. They curve up into a panty-melting smile that does absolutely nothing to help me salvage my dignity.

  "Thoctor Dorne, huh?" One dark brow tics upward. His lips twitch with repressed mirth. He's teasing me.

  It helps settle me. A little. Clearly, I shouldn't be in charge of anything that requires actual brainpower today. Scraping together the tattered remains of my dignity and forging them into something resembling coherence, I offer him a tight smile, hoping he's not as much of a hard ass as he appears. "What I meant to say was, I'm so sorry for running into you, Doctor Thorne. I was distracted."

  "As was I, Miss…"

  "Rowan Lassiter," I supply.

  A brief flare of recognition lights his eyes as soon as I say my name. My insides smash together, twisting with anxiety. I think my soul shivers. What the heck did I do that landed me on the superintendent's radar? I frantically think back but can't recall anything that bad.

  I did tell Cadence Grayson that Johnson is a dick, but I doubt she ratted me out. I don't know her very well yet, but I don't think she likes our principal very much either. And it's not really slander if it's true…right?

  Crap. Maybe he's here about my impromptu science lesson in the courtyard last week? Johnson was out sick, so I didn't think he knew. And it wasn't like we were out there for long. It was hot in the classroom. We just…regrouped to more habitable climates while maintenance fixed the air.

  "Before you let Johnson fire me, I can explain."

  He blinks those ridiculously long lashes. "You think I came to give Johnson permission to fire you?"

  "Yes?"

  He narrows his eyes.

  "No?"

  His lips twitch. I'm pretty sure I'm amusing him again.

  "Can we just go back in time like five minutes and pretend none of this"—I fling my hands out to indicate the shitshow I'm currently writing, directing and starring in, almost smacking him in the chest in the process—"actually happened?"

  "No."

  I had a feeling he was going to say that. I sigh heavily, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead. "Okay then. If you didn't come to give him permission to fire me…why are you here?" I tip my head way back to look up at him. "And why am I?"

  "We'll get to that. Why do you think Johnson wants to fire you?"

  He seems really stuck on this subject. "He hates me," I say with a shrug and then feel bad about it. "Okay, hate is probably a strong word. It's more like he…has a strong aversion to me."

  Dr. Thorne's brows fly together, a severe scowl transforming him back into the formidable—yet wickedly hot—man he was two minutes ago. I am clearly not helping my case any at all here.

  Jesus, girl. Get your life together.

  "To be fair, he feels that way about a lot of people," I add…like that's going to help me. Judging by the way his scowl deepens, I'm just making things worse. Why can't I just stop talking? What is this man doing to me?

  My verbal filter usually functions just fine. I think he broke it. Maybe I'm concussed.

  "I'm going to stop talking now," I whisper, clamping my jaws shut.

  "Two things," he says, finally dropping his arms back to his side. He takes a step toward me, putting him right up in my bubble. I see him raise his hand two seconds before he tucks it under my chin, forcing me to look at him. He's grim-faced and pissed off. "One," he continues, releasing my chin once I'm looking at him, "Johnson isn't firing anyone."

  "That's good then," I whisper.

  "Two, I need to see you first thing in the morning."

  "Are you firing me?"

  His lips twitch. "No."

  The bell rings over the loudspeakers. A few seconds later, the sound of two hundred little voices and the thunder of their rushing steps sound down the long hall. There are no classrooms on this side of the building, but there is no drowning out that many voices.

  Dr. Thorne and I watch each other, both silent, as the kids rush to class. I try not to focus on how attractive I find him, but it's almost possible to ignore the fact that my nipples are still hard little points. It's also impossible not to think about the fact that he was definitely hard a few minutes ago. It's even harder not to wonder if that was because of me. To hope it was.

  Eventually, the sounds fade. The silence grows, morphing into something else. His gaze drops to my lips and then lower, traveling slowly down my body. His eyes heat and darken as if he likes what he sees. Maybe we're not leagues apart? Maybe T-ball is more his speed than I thought?

  "Erm…two good things then. Awesome," I say, desperate to cut off that line of thought sooner rather than later. It leads nowhere good. He's my boss, with infinitely more authority than Johnson has. Crushing on him has bad idea painted all over it.

  "You like good news." He flashes another panty-melting smile that has me fidgeting where I stand.

  "Does anyone dislike good news?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my nipples. And also to discreetly pinch myself on the arm to keep myself focused.

  "Good point." His brows furrow. "Shit. I have a bad thing."

  I knew it! There's no way I was called to the office for strictly good news. I'm not that lucky.

  "I'm not fired?" I ask again…just to make sure he isn't lulling me into a false sense of complacency before he pounces. He doesn't seem like the kind of man who would do something like that, but he also doesn't look like a man who wouldn't do something like that.

  Why is he so devilishly handsome? Jesus.

  I pinch myself again.

  "No one is firing you," he growls.

  Whoa. I like that sound. It reminds me of the way the ground rumbles from deep, deep down right before the tremors of an earthquake start. That probably shouldn't be attractive, but it is coming from him. It's…elemental. Primal.

  "I guess you can tell me the bad stuff then."

  "Gabriel Dunham
's uncle, Colton Walker, was involved in an accident," he says, his voice soft. "Jon asked Johnson to have you take Gabe home until someone can come get him."

  "Colton was in an accident? Is he okay?" My eyes grow wide, worry shooting through me. He and I aren't as close as Lisa and I are, but Colton is a friend. I've known him most of my life. He's one of the best people I know.

  "It sounds pretty serious." Dr. Thone is scowling again, but I'm not sure why.

  The door to the principal's office opens, drawing my attention.

  I gulp when Johnson steps out, his thin hair slicked down on top of his head and his lips pursed as if he ate something sour. His gaze falls on me and then moves to Dr. Thorne. He draws himself up to his full height, as if he's trying to make himself taller. It doesn't work though. Compared to Dr. Thorne, he might as well be my height.

  "Miss Lassiter," he says, speaking to me like I'm an errant child. "I was coming to find you. Did Jamie Grier not inform you that you were needed in my office?"

  Why does he have to be such a jerk?

  I reach deep for a little patience, plastering an apologetic smile on my face.

  "I'm sorry, Principal Johnson. I was just–"

  "I've taken care of it," Dr. Thorne growls, cutting me off.

  Johnson's sour expression grows. He glances between me and Dr. Thorne again, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

  "You're free to go," Dr. Thorne says, his tone sharp, commanding…not at all the gentler, kind tone he's used with me.

  Johnson's ruddy face turns almost purple. He puffs out his chest and then gives Dr. Thorne a curt nod. He glares at me one final time and then steps back into his office.

  I have a feeling he's going to make my life a lot harder now. Johnson is a stickler for appearances. He likes to be the one pulling the strings and making the decisions. He probably isn't going to appreciate that I just witnessed Dr. Thorne dismissing him like he loves to do to us.

  Neither Thorne nor I say anything for a long moment, and then I remember why Johnson called me down here in the first place. Colton was in an accident.

  "Cadence!" I gasp, my heart sinking. "Someone needs to tell Cadence. She and Colton are…" Am I allowed to tell him that Cadence and Colton are dating? I don't think it's against the rules, but it's not really my news to spread.

  "Miss Grayson has been advised," Dr. Thorne murmurs, his scowl vanishing. "Jon is taking her to the hospital to see him. They left a few minutes ago."

  "Oh, thank goodness." I exhale a pent-up breath, relieved I don't have to spill the beans. Cadence doesn't have very many friends here yet. All of the male teachers went gaga over her when she first started, but she turned all of them down. She keeps to herself a lot. I'm kind of hoping the two of us will be good friends though. I genuinely like her.

  "Can you take Gabe home?" Dr. Thorne asks, referring to Lisa and Jon's son. He's in Cadence's class this year. I'm really hoping he ends up in mine next year. He is so cute, especially since his baby sister was born on Friday. He hasn't stopped talking about her since.

  "Of course." I frown up at Dr. Thorne, suddenly worried again. "Has anyone told him about Colton yet? They're super close." Gabe idolizes his uncle.

  Dr. Thorne shakes his head. "We thought it best to let Jon and Lisa decide what to tell him and when. We don't know a whole lot yet."

  That's probably a good idea. Until we know how bad things are, we should probably hold off. Besides, Lisa and Jon really need to be the ones to decide what to tell him and when.

  "Do you know what happened?" I ask.

  "A crane collapsed on a worksite and he was injured. Come on," he says, wrapping a hand around my elbow and leading me to the bench across the hall. He nudges my shoulder, gently trying to make me sit. My skin hums where he touches me. "You look a little pale. I don't want you passing out on me."

  "I'm fine."

  "Good, then you'll be fine sitting."

  "You're bossy."

  He quirks a brow.

  "Fine. I'll sit," I mumble, sinking down onto the wood and iron bench. I have to crane my neck way back to see him. "Happy now?"

  He grunts.

  "If Johnson catches me out here again, I'm blaming you."

  He scowls again. Interesting. Maybe he doesn't like Richard Johnson much? Before I can ask him that wildly inappropriate question, he pins me with a look that soaks my panties.

  "You don't have to worry about Johnson," he says, his voice soft and heated. "He won't be a problem for you again."

  "Easy for you to say," I mutter, and then grimace. "I'm sorry. That wasn't very nice. Johnson means well. He's just…"

  "A dictator? A tyrant? An autocratic dick with OCD tendencies?"

  "I was going to go with set in his ways," I say, shaking my head and smiling. Dr. Thorne does not mince words or beat around the bush. "He wants what's best for the school, but he tends to forget that what's best for the school isn't always what's best for the children who go here. The most successful schools put the kids first, not the data."

  Thorne's irritation melts, his expression softening. Surprise flickers in his onyx eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but his phone rings. He makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat before dragging it out of his pocket to look at it. His scowl deepens. "I'm sorry," he says, genuinely apologetic. "I need to take this."

  I jump to my feet. "I need to get back to class anyway. Um, thank you. For letting me know about Colton."

  "Rowan."

  I make a move to step around him, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. He's right up in my personal space, or maybe I'm in his. I don't know, but he's close enough for me to feel his breath stirring baby hairs all around my face. His gaze scans back and forth across my face like he's looking for something, but I don't know what. All I know is that the urge to reach up and brush his hair away from his forehead is so strong I have to clench my fists to keep myself from doing it.

  My skin feels different, strange. Like little flames lick at it from a thousand different directions. The feeling only deepens when he dips his head toward mine. He drops his hand from my shoulder, his fingertips trailing all the way down my arm. They leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, but I'm not cold.

  "I want you in my office first thing in the morning," he murmurs. His lips are inches from mine. So close all it would take to the close the distance would be for me to tilt my head back the tiniest bit. "Don't forget, little owl."

  Do I want him to kiss me? Oh God, I think I do. This is bad.

  "I…I won't," I promise, my whole body trembling.

  He doesn't respond for a long moment and then he makes another little sound in the back of his throat. It's half impatient, half grunt…sexy as hell. His lashes flutter, his eyes falling closed. He moves closer.

  I whimper in the back of my throat.

  Hs phone rings again, blaring into the tiny space between us like a loudspeaker.

  I jump, startled.

  "Fuck," Dr. Thorne growls.

  "You can't say that at school," I whisper.

  "Says who?"

  "The rules."

  "I make the rules, Rowan."

  "Oh." I guess he does.

  He chuckles again, and then he touches my cheek with the back of his hand.

  "See you at seven," he says, stepping away from me.

  I stumble before I catch myself.

  He smiles at me, the heat in his eyes stealing my breath.

  I stand there, watching as he strolls across the hall toward Johnson's office, his phone at his ear. He turns back to look at me once. My stomach flutters. So does my heart. His full lips curve into that smile that sets my blood on fire. I feel my own smile spreading without my permission.

  The door swings closed, hiding him from view.

  "This is so not good," I whisper to myself, pressing my hands to my overheated cheeks.

  Chapter Two

  Sebastian

  "Let me get this straight," Leslie Holland, the Vice President of
the School Board, says, staring at me like I've grown a second head. With her gray hair up in a bun and her glasses perched on her nose, she looks more like the prim school librarian I knew as a kid than the savvy politician and humanitarian she's become in the two decades since. "You're asking for permission to pursue a teacher at Commodore?"

  "No," I growl, pacing around her impressively decorated office. Her antique desk probably cost more than the building it sits in. Like me, Leslie came from money. Like me, she gives most of it away. Unlike me, she likes to look the part. I dress the way I do because it helps remind people who is in charge. For her, it's vanity. She's the first to admit it. "I'm not asking for permission. I'm asking if us dating is going to be a problem for her."

  She gapes at me.

  I find my patience quickly fraying. Leslie is a damn good friend and ally, but she does not like surprises. Most politicians don't, but there's no helping it this time. I will be dating Rowan Lassiter, just as soon as I make it possible. Leslie is going to help me do that. I'm not asking for permission. Hell, I'm not even asking for her understanding or acceptance. I'm just asking what I need to do to make sure Rowan is protected from any potential fallout.

  Rowan is magic. Not sword and sorcery magic but honest to goodness, spreads-happiness-wherever-she-goes magic. She's a Nymph. A Naiad. There's no other word to describe her. She's a tiny fairy princess who barely reaches my chest. She reminds me of an adorable baby owl, all wide-eyed wonder, natural intelligence, and sharp wit. She has a big heart, and curves sweet enough to make me ache. I was hard two seconds after catching sight of her walking down the hall, those wide hips of hers swaying and her tits jiggling in her blouse.

  I was so caught up in staring at her, I didn't realize she didn't notice me standing there until she crashed right into me. She might as well have been a meteor, because I was done for the second I felt those sweet curves pressed up against my body.