Page 209 of Prickly Romance

It bothers me to think that I am the shaken one. I am determined not to give in first. Instead, I satisfy myself with watching her from afar like a crazed stalker, peering at her through the blinds in my office, calling more and more meetings and making random visits to the music rooms under the guise of checking on the students.

I pin my hands behind my back and stride through the brightly-lit hallway. The sound of a piano draws me nearer.

Miss Cottingham is sitting on a piano bench next to a small child. The MTB is hooked around the child’s head and wrapped around his back. He picks through the music scale and smiles when he is rewarded with applause.

Miss Cottingham notices me standing there and she jerks forward. “Mr. Sazuki.”

I motion for her to be seated.

Continuing down the hallway, I stop in front of Dejonae’s door and take a deep breath before I open it.

She is standing next to a piano, wearing her signature T-shirt and jeans. Her curls are pulled back into a small ponytail, exposing the finer details of her face. Gloss shimmers on her lips, filling me with a raging urge that threatens to eat me alive.

I remember when that mouth softened under mine. I remember grazing her soft, perfect lips with gentle bites and slow, torturous thrusts of my tongue—

Enough, Sazuki. Or you will not be able to keep your distance.

Dejonae’s fingers tap out a rhythm as her student plays hesitantly. The child stops and slumps her shoulders.

“You’re doing great,” Dejonae signs. “Let’s try it again. Slowly.”

The music starts once more.

I thirstily trace the slope of her eyebrows, the curls falling against her dark cheeks and the shape of her temptingly lush mouth.

Our last night together was unexpected but satisfying. Heated. The kind of collision that should have marked a new wave of happiness.

She was mine for such a short time. Or maybe the separation feels far too long. An eternity.

Her eyes are drawn to mine. When she sees me, her expression tightens.

“Can I help you?” Dejonae signs.

I shake my head.

She juts her chin down once and faces her student again, giving me her back. I feel the rejection like a gunshot to the chest.

But my pride rears its ugly head, refusing to back down.

Dejonae’s eyes no longer glitter at me. Her sweet, light laughter no longer fills my ears. Our relationship is broken. The longer we pause, the more irreparable it becomes.

All I have left is my position as her boss.

I cannot jeopardize that lone connection.

I retreat and make my way to the rest of the music rooms. After my inspection, I pass Dejonae’s door a second time, but she is not there.

“She left early,” a voice says.

My muscles tense. “Jordan.”

“She said she wasn’t feeling well.”

My eyes widen. Is she sick? Does she need to go to the hospital?

“She looked fine,” Jordan says. “I don’t think it was that serious.”

I scowl at him. I do not want to receive these updates from her ex.

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