Page 17 of Lessons in Sin

A woman, probably another teacher, is sitting half on his desk, one leg crossed over the other, her skirt riding up - a blatantly obvious attempt at giving him a glimpse of her thigh-highs and garter belt. Clenching my teeth, I angle my head, so my ear is closer, letting me hear them. I know it’s wrong to listen in but the anger and jealously rolling through me right now doesn’t care.

‘Hmmm, I know a nice Italian place we could go to.’ She leans in closer towards him, her mane of blonde hair hiding her face.

After a pause, I hear his voice, and despite the situation, despite the jealousy raging through me, the sound of him still sends warmth spreading between my thighs.

‘You have my number; send me the place and we can sort something out for Friday.’ His voice is low, and I know from experience that she is probably week at the knees at the sound of it.

Falling away from the door, I feel something inside me start to crack. Tears threaten to break free as I walk back to the lecture hall, my steps hurried, but I shake them away, refusing to let them fall.

It shouldn’t feel like this. I haven’t even known Tristan for long and yet I find myself torn to shreds when I find out he’s not having trouble moving on. Clearly, that display of jealousy outside was fleeting since he was soon out seducing Miss fucking thigh-highs.

Ignoring the ache in my chest, I slide back into my seat next to Noah.

‘You okay?’ He murmurs, his voice low.

I give him a tight nod and stare straight ahead hoping to go he doesn’t ask again, if he does, I might just break down and confess. But Noah gets the message, leaving me space while he chats to Lily.

Not long after, Tristan walks through the door and like magnets, our gazes connect, that stupid thread of something still strong between us despite what I’ve just seen.

He looks away after a moment, his gaze hard as granite. ‘I hope you’ve all read The Beetle by now since that’s where we’ll be starting.’

And that’s when I have an idea.

Settling into my seat, I smirk. My next class with Tristan is going to be … eventful.

Chapter 11

Ignoring the warning bells going off inside my head, I make my way through the empty corridors, walking towards Tristan’s class.

It’s been ten minutes since class started – the perfect side of fashionably late which also happens to work perfectly with my plan. Deep down I know this is a stupid idea. I know that it probably isn’t going to change anything, but I also know that there’s nothing stopping me now.

As I reach the door to his class, I hear his deep, whisky smooth drawl drifting through the door. I press my legs together trying to ease the ache that never fails to remind just how much I want that man and take a deep breath.

This morning when I woke up I didn’t throw on my usual jeans and tank top. Instead, I carefully picked out a tartan mini-skirt that I wore last year for Halloween when me and Ruby decided to channel our inner Brittany Spears and paired it with a white crop-top and white thigh-high socks. I looked hot. And not just that, I looked forbidden.

Who doesn’t love a bit of forbidden fruit?

Taking a deep breath, I open the door and walk through it, forcing an extra sway in steps, my hips swinging seductively from side to side.

Tristan stops mid-sentence, his gaze glued to mine as he takes me in.

I let a slow smile spread my cherry red lips. ‘Sorry Professor, I got a bit lost.’ I pout. ‘I’m still not used to the building.’

Tristan, his eyes blazing like the pits of hell, gives me a sharp nod. ‘Go sit down.’

‘Yes Professor.’ I purr, dancing for joy inside when I see a flicker of lust in the green of his eyes. Tristan can act unaffected all he wants but those little bursts of lust and desire don’t lie.

I walk to my seat as Tristan starts up his lesson again.

Noah and Lily send me a look that says what is going on? But I shrug, ignoring the question in their gaze before sitting to see that Tristan’s face has, once again, shuttered, turning into that cold, unfeeling mask he’s been wearing since that first class.

Not one to be deterred, I settle in and wait for the perfect moment to pounce. Half an hour goes by before the perfect opportunity presents itself.

‘Now, I’ll give you fifteen minutes to analyse this scene and then we’ll go through it together.’ Tristan murmurs absentmindedly, fingering through the pages of the novel.

Sitting up, I feel a nervous tremor creep its way along my back. Ignoring it, I wait until he looks up to get his attention. Not that I need to try – our eyes connect on their own – and have done since day one.

And that’s when I strike.

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