by Rachel Leigh
We both watch as he struts over to Taya with his shoulders pulled back and his chest puffed out. It’s comical, but I know he’s trying to be funny. Positioning himself between Taya and the other guy, he gives her a sheepish grin.
“Now that it’s just the two of us, I wanna be real with you.” Axel bumps his cup into mine. “This bet we have going on, I was partially fucking with you. I mean, there isn’t a guy in this school who wouldn’t mind tapping Ms. Hyland’s fine ass, but I won’t hold you to sticking with me until you leave, when you lose. Just like you won’t back out on your scheduled ones if you do.”
It’s more of a question than a statement, which means he’s getting nervous. Ms. Hyland can barely stand to be near him. There is no way he’s winning this bet. Even more than that, he doesn’t want me giving up the fights he has planned. He’s hellbent on making them all happen without a hitch.
“How about we just call this whole thing off, it’s fucking stupid.” I watch him over the rim of my cup, as I take a drink.
“Now that I’ve undressed her in my head.” He stares off into space for a minute, imagining her naked, I assume, and I have the urge to smack the shit out of him. “I have to do it, man.”
I can feel my jaw tick as he speaks. The blood rushing to my cheeks. Burning hot with a desire to knock every thought of her out of his head.
“It’ll never happen.” I turn to walk away, before I lose all control. He might not hold me to the bet. But, as far as he’s concerned, she’s still on the table, and it’s fucking with my head.
I start to walk over to the fire to join Kip and Taya, who are laughing at something on her phone, when I spot Harper walking up.
I look over to Axel, and he’s already shooting daggers at her.
Oh well, he pissed me off tonight. Now it’s my turn to do the same. I walk over to her and give her a friendly welcome, hoping to ease the awkwardness she feels walking into his stomping ground.
She’s got a bag full of liquor as a peace offering, but the way he is walking toward us tells me that won’t be enough. I take the bag from her. and we continue, meeting Axel halfway.
“What the actual fuck?” he utters in a single tone. “You can just turn your happy ass around and leave the same way you came.”
I look at Harper and can see the pain in her eyes—the embarrassment.
“Dude, I told her it would be fine. We’re all cool, right?” I pat the back of his shoulder, and he jerks away instantly.
“Wait a minute,” he laughs deviously, “You told her to come here? What the fuck, man?”
“Come on, lighten up. It was me, you, Harper, and Kip when we were just nine years old in the tree fort. We’re all friends. Don’t let this be a big deal.”
“Both of you. Get the hell out!” he screeches. I go to speak, but he stops me. “Out!”
Then he’s gone. I don’t even bother telling Kip; I’ll text him. I don’t want the wrath of Axel to ruin anyone else’s night.
I guess I’ll add this to my list of fuck-ups in thinking that Axel might show her a little compassion.
“A small word of advice,” I say to Harper, “never uninvite Axel Thorn to anything. He will never forget it.”
“I was just trying to get a rise out of him. He would have come to my party, invited or not, if he wasn’t having one of his own.”
That’s true, he would have.
We walk to the car and three of the varsity cheerleaders, who came with her, walk at her side.
“I’m gonna need a ride home, since I was just kicked out of the place I planned to crash at.” I smack the hood of my Jeep, as we walk past it to her silver BMW.
“Who says you need to go home? We got a bag of booze.” She nudges the bag in my hand.
“Touché.” I nod.
Instead of going to Harper’s house, we park down at the docks and pass around a bottle of Jack, all except April, she doesn’t drink.
Our feet dangle off the side at one of my favorite places. This side of the docks is run down; the grass is overgrown; the wood is weathered. No one uses it anymore, which makes it a nice escape, when you don’t want to be found.
“You and Axel need to work through this,” I tell Harper, “It’s not doing anyone in our group any good.”
Harper is quiet for a minute, before she finally speaks, “I miss the way he used to be. He used to be human. Now, he’s just...empty.”
“You may not believe this, but I think you might be the only one who can save him from himself.”
After an hour has passed and we’ve finished off the bottle, I’m feeling pretty buzzed and ready for bed. Harper agrees to drive me home, but the lights on in the house have me switching gears.
Instead of going home, I decide to crash at Blakely’s. She’s out of town, and Mom would lose her shit if she saw me like this.
I reach down to pick up the hide-a-key rock and catch myself, as I sway into a large bush. I toss the rock back down and watch it roll underneath, not even trying to find it. I walk up to the large porch and stick the key in and give it a turn, before opening the door.
Stepping into the dark house, I close the door behind me, grateful that Esme, Blakely’s housekeeper, took a few nights off. She’s a sweet lady, but I wouldn't want to intrude.
I stumble into the dark living room and kick off my shoes, unsure of where they flew off to, then I drop my shorts and pull my shirt over my head.
The dark quiet is inviting.
Just as I reach for the throw blanket that is lying on the couch, it moves.
The next thing I know, a loud shriek is coming from the couch, and I’m stumbling backward and falling over the marble coffee table.
“What the hell?” I recognize the voice, as the light switches on.
“I could say the same thing. What are you doing in Blakely’s house?” I ask, as Ms. Hyland stands there in a silk nightgown that sits right above the cheeks of her ass.
I follow her stare and realize that I’m standing here in just my boxer briefs, not even phased, thanks to the alcohol.
When she lifts her eyes, I flash her a grin, and her face turns a pretty shade of pink.
“Like what you see?” I curl my upper lip.
8
Claire
My heart is banging on the walls of my chest, as I stand here with my breasts and my ass hanging out of my silk nightgown. Knox watches me like he’s waiting for me to make a move and grab the blanket that lies at my feet. I look down at it, but I’m frozen in place.
I force myself not to look up. Not to look over at the perfectly sculpted body that stands just a few feet away from—more so, the bulge that’s growing in his boxers. I keep my head down, struggling to speak. “I...I’m sorry, I thought the house would be empty. If I had known you were staying here...”
“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts me. Walking over to my side, he bends over, reaching for the blanket. I can feel the burn of his eyes singe down my body, as he reaches for it, starting with my breasts and ending at my toes. He comes back up, and if my heavy breathing weren’t a big enough sign of my pent-up sexual deprivation, my trembling legs are.
With one hand, he swings the blanket over my shoulders and the scent of whiskey and sweet cinnamon rolls off of him. I can tell he’s had enough liquor to intoxicate us both, as he stumbles to the side. I place a helping hand on him to catch his fall, as he slowly lowers down to a sitting position on the all-white sofa. “Are you alright?”
“I’m golden. Feeling pretty damn good right about now.” His bloodshot eyes fight to stay open.
“You don’t look so good. Let me get you some water.” I attempt to walk away, but his hand on my wrist has me frozen once again. I look down at his fingers wrapped around me and feel enamored by his touch.
He’s a kid, Claire. Stop this.
I’m not sure why Knox has this effect on me. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s so wrong, but everything about being near him feels so right. He’s like a drug
that I want to inhale, just to see how it makes me feel. It could destroy me—or, it can free me from myself.
He uses his grip on me to pull himself up. “Knox,” I mutter into the empty space between us.
He takes a step closer and leans in, his chest pressed against mine, as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t go.”
“I have to.” I pull myself from his hold. I turn away and walk, as quickly as I can to the kitchen. The plush throw blanket is still wrapped around me, and I pull it closer, holding tightly with my free hand. I stop at the kitchen island, leaning into it and taking a few deep breaths.
I knew Blakely and Esme were gone for a few nights, so I snuck in here like a crazy person. Took a bath in the giant whirlpool tub, tried on a couple of Blakely’s designer dresses, as I ran my hand up the seam, remembering what they felt like when I had my own. It was only a few months ago, but it feels like an eternity. I even helped myself to an entire bottle of champagne that cost more than one of the dresses. She has dozens; she won’t even notice. Besides, she’s not even old enough to drink. That was my excuse to choke down the guilt, as I drank glass after glass.
Then I crashed on the couch. I never would have expected Knox would come stumbling in at midnight and strip his clothes off. This is a total coincidence. All of our encounters these past couple of days have been. It still doesn’t change the way my body reacts every time he walks into a room, fully clothed or half naked. He does something to me.
Does he feel it, too? Or is he just a hormonal teenager? He’s drunk, that’s for sure. This whole situation is wrong. I shouldn’t be alone with my student in a dark house at this time of night. I open up the blanket and look down at my half naked body. Especially dressed like this.
I have to get out of here.
I drop the blanket to the floor and head for the back door. Just as I slide it open, I feel the touch of his arm wrap around my waist. His thumb grazes over my belly button through the silk fabric. His breath on my neck has me light-headed. Unable to focus on anything else.
Reckless, imprudent, and highly aroused.
I spin around and press myself against his bare skin. The warmth of his body so alluring, so inviting. With his arm still around me, he places his hand on the small of my back. “We can’t.” I breath into him, closing my eyes. Hoping that he gives me a reason to change my mind. Desperation creeps up on me. I’m desperate for him to touch me more. To touch me over and over again, until I’m fully satisfied, hoping that once I have him, I’ll stop craving him. “You’re drunk. This is wrong.”
“Then why does it feel so fucking right?” He cocks his head and his mouth ghosts my neck. The smoothness of his chin rubbing against my collarbone. He moves slowly, casting his breaths on my skin. Doing nothing to calm me. Instead, he has me wanting more. I can feel the dampness pool, as electrical impulses course between my legs.
As if I was slapped over the head with a frying pan, I snap out of this fantasy and pull away in one swift motion. Without even giving him a second look, I run out the door. My bare feet prodded by the dry grass. I don’t stop or look back out of fear that I’ll return to him.
Once I reach the guesthouse, I pull the door open and slam it closed behind me, locking it for added assurance that Knox will not come in. I’m sure he’s probably back in the living room and passed out on the couch already, but I need to be sure. This can never happen again. He may be an adult in the eyes of the law, but to me, he’s a kid—my student.
The next morning, I’m awaken by a pounding at the front door. I rub my eyes and reach for my phone that's stuck to my leg. 9:33 am. Who the hell would be coming to see me at this time of the morning, or ever for that matter? It must be Val coming to give me more warnings about the secret life of Mr. Jones.
I pull myself out of my bed, with no hurry behind my steps, and peek around the window curtain that faces the front yard—or backyard of the main house.
My car sits in the distance, parked along the side of the street up front.
I go to the door and unlock it, swinging it open to see what's going on. I called and had it towed to the local mechanic, but he said he wouldn’t be able to get to it until Monday at the earliest.
A very tall man, wearing a navy blue mechanic suit with a backwards baseball cap, stands there. “I’m just dropping off the Volvo for,” he looks down at the clipboard in his hand, “Claire Hyland.”
“I’m Claire Hyland, but there must be some sort of mix-up. My car was just brought in yesterday. How is it done already?”
Thank God I have the extra cash that I took from Malcolm’s safe. It wasn’t much, but it's enough to pay for this and have a little leftover in case of another emergency.
“We were told your car was top priority. Spent all night replacing the starter. If you could just sign here.” He hands me the clipboard and a greased up pen.
“Let me just grab my wallet. Is cash ok?”
“Already paid for. We just need a signature.”
My jaw drops open. “What do you mean it’s already paid for? That’s impossible.”
“I guess someone was looking out for you. Consider it your lucky day.” He nods toward the clipboard that’s hanging in my hand. “I’ve got other vehicles to get to that were bumped back to fit yours in, so if you don’t mind.”
“Oh yes. Sorry.” I begin signing on the x. “Do you have a name of the person who paid? I’d like to thank them.”
“I’ll pass along your gratitude.” He snatches the clipboard from my hand and walks away. I watch as he gets in a blue truck that’s parked in front of my car. It’s hard to make out in the distance, but it looks like Anderson Auto is written on the side of the blue pickup.
That’s not where I said to have the car towed. It was supposed to go to Martin’s Auto Service. Something is not right here.
I brush away the first thought that comes to my mind.
Malcolm.
This is something he would do. A sneaky way of trying to tell me that I’m found. That I can run but not hide. I close the door quickly and look out the window again. I watch as the truck drives away, then scope out the yard, looking for signs of a trespasser.
Everything appears to be normal.
I go into the kitchen and flip open my laptop that’s on the counter. I open up the search browser and type in Anderson Auto in Redwood, AZ.
The only thing that pops up is an Anderson Auto located in Tulsa, which is over forty miles away.
Who would have my car towed from a repair shop right down the road, all the way to Tulsa, pay for it, and have it personally delivered to me?
This is just great. Not only do I have the burden of guilt that I was practically begging my student to have his way with me last night. Now, I have to rack my brain and try and figure out who went out of their way to do such a selfless act for me. If it even was selfless.
That’s it. It has to be Knox. First, he snuck the money back in my bag for our fast food order, and now, he paid for my car. It has to be him. It would make sense; he knew it broke down. But, why? How could he even afford this big of a bill? He works as a dishwasher at Scotty’s and mentioned that he’s saving up for a down payment on a house after he graduates.
One thing is for sure, I need to find out if it was him. If it was, I intend to pay him back every penny. This is too much.
I walk into my bedroom and slip on my slippers and throw my red silk robe on, tying it tightly around my waist, to avoid any further awkwardness.
After the state that he was in last night, I’m sure he’s still passed out at Blakely’s. I open up the door and start walking across the yard, when I notice that the sliding door, I left out of last night, is still open. I pick up my pace and hurry inside, shutting it before mosquitoes find their way into the house.
I immediately notice the snacks scattered all over the kitchen island. Chips, cookies, even peanut butter with the top off and knife stuck in the jar.
A drunk man after my heart. Food is my go-to when I’ve
had too much to drink. Nothing like kicking back with a buzz and stuffing your face without worrying that it will go straight to your thighs.
I walk into the living room, expecting him to be on the couch. Only he’s not. However, his clothes are still in a pile at the door, where he must have shed them last night. He’s here somewhere. This house is massive. I may have given myself the grand tour last night, counting seven bedrooms and five bathrooms. What twenty-year-old girl needs a house this big?
My hand grazes over the mahogany wooden banister, as I make my way up the stairs. Taking note of each small detail engraved in the custom finish. This had to have taken months to engrave. I trace my finger through the ivy vines, until I reach the top of the staircase. I turn left, remembering the bedroom with the large bathroom that had the whirlpool tub. I take a deep breath, before opening the door.
Empty.
I close the door behind me and continue checking the other bedrooms that have beds, all of which are empty. The only room left is the master bedroom that I took to be Blakely’s. I get a firm grip on the door handle and turn it slowly. He has to be in here. I push it open and, once again, empty.
Where is he?
“You’re back.” I spin around quickly when I hear his voice.
I gasp at the sudden shock to my heart. “Oh my gosh, Knox. You scared the hell out of me.” I grab my chest and count each beat in my head, waiting for my pulse to slow. “Where were you?” I ask.
“Bathroom.” He points down the hall at one of the bedrooms or bathrooms. Whatever he’s pointing at. It just doesn’t matter.
“We need to talk.” I cross my arms over my chest, hiding my hard nipples that are poking through the fabric.
“Yeah, I should apologize for last night. That was totally out of character for me. I guess drinking will do that to ya.” He grins, half embarrassed, half nervous.
