Page 47 of Gifts

I ignore them both and look up at Asa as I enter my office. After I brush by him, I hear the door shut and before I can set my things down, I feel the soft stubble of his beard on my neck and his strong arm wraps around my waist. I tip my head to give him access, while at the same time contradict myself. “Asa, we’re at school.”

His other hand comes up to my chin and he tilts my face to kiss me. “The door’s closed.”

I don’t make a move to stop him, but still argue, “This isn’t a good idea. You didn’t look like an official appointment when you walked in here—not the way you were looking at me.”

“How was I looking at you?” he murmurs under my ear and winds my loose hair around his hand. I feel a pull at my scalp and he turns me.

The green in his dark hazel eyes glint as he smirks, almost daring me to explain how he was looking at me. I swallow hard, not having the courage to take his dare, but if I did, I’d guess he was either stripping me naked to have his way with me nice and slow or ripping my panties off to have his way with me quick-like.

Either way, he was definitely having his way with me. Now my panties are damp and I’m at school.

I was about to change the subject, but he steps into me and the next thing I know, the backs of my thighs are pressed into my desk and he’s really kissing me.

Even though I’m not only at work, but at an educational institution for young people, I don’t stop him. I should stop him. I can’t afford to lose my job, or suffer some type of disciplinary actions, or public embarrassment.

I should care about all these things, but I don’t.

Because just like every other time in the last few days when Asa finds moments to steal away—possessing me like this—I feel different. When he has his lips on mine, his hand up my shirt, teasing my breasts with feather touches just to leave me hanging, and his large muscled body pressed against mine—I don’t feel like a mom. I don’t feel like a goat owner, or like a woman who regularly has paint in her hair, or even someone who shovels donkey shit.

And I do not feel like a victim of lies and dishonesty, or worse, a widow.

It all melts away.

Standing here in my office, where it’s neither appropriate nor safe for him to have me pinned up against anything, I don’t give a shit and let him have his way.

I find myself breathless when he says, “The only places I can touch you are your pantry and your office. I’m getting tired of that.”

“We could add my garage,” I offer.

He shakes his head. “Find someone to watch Knox and Saylor tomorrow night. Emma doesn’t need a sitter, but I don’t want her by herself so I talked Levi into staying home with her. We’re going to go do adult shit.”

“What … kind of adult shit?”

He presses his groin into my stomach and lowers his voice, “I’m sure I can think of something.”

Just when I was about to make another excuse so I wouldn’t agree to any adult plans he could think up, the bell rings. Literally and figuratively—I’m saved by the bell.

I fist his shirt before giving him a little push. “You don’t want to be late for your conference. Doesn’t Levi have practice? Do you want me to take Emma home for you? I mean, if she doesn’t mind, that is. She might not want to sit around while you’re talking about her.”

By the look on his face, I wonder if I stepped over the line, but then he closes the small gap I managed to create and kisses me again. “Yeah. I’m sure she’ll like that. We’ve been at your place for dinner three times this week. I want to spend some time with Emma at home. You get that sitter and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What should I wear to do ‘adult shit’?”

He shakes his head. “You could wear a potato sack and I’d be okay with it. As long as I’ve got you alone and can focus on you, I’m good.”

I smile and go to close down my computer and pack up my things. We head to the commons and stand to the side of the swarm of kids ready for the weekend. There’s an extra buzz in the air after school on Fridays.

When we find Emma, Asa calls her over to us and she’s less than happy to see him. If her sour face says anything about her mood, she’s not happy about her dad being here and less happy about him meeting her teachers.

“Hey.” I offer her a smile. “Do you want me to give you a ride home so you don’t have to wait around for your dad?”

I’ve spent more time with Emma outside of school as the woman who’s secretly being groped and getting out-of-this-world kisses by her father in the pantry than as her counselor. Even as withdrawn as she’s been, she does seem to be a bit more comfortable with me than the first time Asa showed up at my house unannounced for dinner, and I’ve been going out of my way to check up on her at school this week.

I shouldn’t be surprised when she rolls her eyes and shrugs, but what seems to be the norm with Emma, even as petulant as she’s proven to be, she still gives in. “Anything to get out of here sooner.”

Asa leans down and plants a kiss on his daughter’s dark head of hair, while murmuring, “A ‘thank you’ would be appropriate, Em.”

Emma looks agitated and ready to get out of here. “Sorry and thanks. Can we go now?”

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