Page 75 of Bad Kind of Love

He was in love with Becca.

And the way she leered at him, I’d say she felt the same.

Even if she tried to deny it.

The suffocating feeling in my chest soon took over as I watched in horror as she tossed her head back in laughter at something he said. I wanted to lunge, attack and even kill, but what fucking good would that do.

I could feel my phone digging into my palm as I gripped it tightly, to the point of pain. Physical pain was nothing compared to emotional pain. Cut me with a knife or shoot me with a gun but watching the girl I love talk with my son was way fucking worse.

Before my heart could sink any further, Becca’s eyes flashed to mine, and right then, I was reminded why she belonged to me. Even though Wes was there, she’d always find a way back to me.

Wes appeared to be saying his goodbyes but then wrapped Becca in a tight embrace. With his back to mine, she secured her arms around him, glancing at me with an unreadable expression.

She knew I was furious. My heavy glare was transparent as I burned holes into their backs. Finally, when he dropped his hold, I felt my body relax but fury still lingered. He stalked off down the hall leaving Becca alone with a look of worry across her face.

She should feel worried.

Nodding my chin towards her, she slowly steps into the room, stopping just beyond the door. With her arms at her sides, she peers down at her feet nervously. Hair hanging low like a curtain, I force myself to stay seated so I don’t do something stupid like push it out of her eyes.

“Close the door.” I growl.

Her head lifts slowly as our eyes clash together, releasing a burst of tension that causes her to shut the door with force.

“But we might…” She rambles but I immediately cut her off.

“Lock it.”

I watch as her throat muscles retract, and she leisurely flicks the lock in place.

Finally alone, I push out of my chair and circle around my desk till I stop just in front of it. Tugging at my shirt sleeves, I begin to roll them up. With my cold gaze focused on hers, I purposefully take my time with each arm.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She groans irritated as she crosses her arms across her chest. “I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong.” Shaking her head, blonde waves tumble behind her back leaving her face open to admire.

“What’s going on between you and my son?” I snarl through clenched teeth, as her eyes widen.

“Nothing, we’re just friends.” Her arms cross over her chest, but the shakiness in her voice tells me a different story.

Pushing off the desk, I stalk towards her with the intent of settling this once and for all. But instead of waiting patiently like a good girl, she begins moving down an aisle of desks away from me.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” Changing course, I follow her down the aisle.

Walking backwards, she keeps her chin lifted high but soon smacks the wall behind her. Trapped, she watches me closely as I close in on her.

“How does he look at me?” She asks stupidly, but I go with it.

“Like I look at you.”

Crowding her against the wall, her scent wafts through the air calming any anger I once had. With each hand pressed against the wall beside her head, I lean down till I’m at eye level.

“And how do you look at me, teach?” Her mouth twisted into a sly grin, but the little nickname she has for me sets me off.

Pressing my hips roughly into her, I grind hard till her eyes roll back and her mouth falls open.

“Like I want to give you the whole fucking world and corrupt you at the same time.”

Staring down at her mouth, I force myself to pull back. Dragging a hand through my hair, I turn my back to her and try to focus on the real issue at hand. Becca O’Connor was the worst and best kind of distraction, but she also deserved better than me. Not some low life teacher that was twice her age.

Why the fuck was I doing this?

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