Page 32 of Between the Lines

She tilts her head, still holding the ice pack just barely peeled away from my forehead.

“And no girlfriend.”

Thoughtfully, her head tilts to the other side. There was absolutely no reason to offer up that information. I’ll kick myself for it later. But then, she asks, “Do you want me to bring in some concealer for you? Just in case?” and the mental image of Claire coming to my office to delicately paint my face with makeup already has me crammed between a rock and a hard place—both of which being the state of my cock right now.

I cough, clearing the gravel in my throat.

“I’ll, uh… I think I’ll be okay.”

I stand, smiling tensely, hoping to put space between us before I realize that standing actually puts us closer together. If Claire or I were to inhale too quickly, shewillfeel the current state of my dick. With a wince, I take a slight step backward, placing more than just breathing space between us.

Which was definitely a huge mistake. Because now, I can see just how much height exists between us when we’re this close. I can just make out the pertness of her nipples, poking through the cotton of her bra. I have the visual of her peeking up at me through those long eyelashes, a little bit of fear but a lot ofcome and get mein her eyes as they slowly bat up at me.

I swallow, wondering if closing my eyes to imagine her is more dangerous than letting them trace every intricate detail in her gaze.

fifteen

claire

He stoodup to leave ten minutes ago, but for some reason, he’s still in my classroom.

Nathan.

Maybe if we’re on a first name basis, I won’t seem like a monster to everyone else.

All of a sudden, he’s peeling like an onion, shedding his layers like a lizard in heat, and leaving his armor all over my floor.

But he isn’tsayinganything. He’s simply sitting here, in the same chair I’d just made him sit in while he’d iced his forehead, watching me set up centers for my class for tomorrow.

Tomorrow. My last day in Juliet’s class before she comes back from maternity leave. She’ll be in tomorrow to shadow with me and answer any questions for the kids after they’ve finished their assignments, and then, the classroom is all hers. I’ve already been here for six weeks. It’s crazy how time seems to fly when you’re finally doing something for yourself.

I put the finishing touches on the last table, then stand with my hands on my hips, tilting my head with an appreciative hum.

“Looks good.”

The gravelly texture of his voice is unexpected, and shoots a tingle down my spine.

“Thanks.”

I turn and offer him a soft smile, then slowly head back to my desk to start packing up my things. It feels selfish, to have extended my night so long that I’ll arrive at home in time to skip helping with anything at all. I’ll be duty free tonight, but it comes at the cost of staying at school until the last possible minute. I swallow that guilt when I feel the weight of Nathan’s gaze still heavy on me, tracking me as I walk across the room.

“Why are you here so late?”

I hesitate, my obnoxiously large water tumbler suspended halfway to its special pocket in my tote bag.

Chillax, Claire. He’s not going to call your mommy and tattle.

“Just wanted to make sure everything is set for tomorrow, and get the room nice and ready for Juliet when she comes back from maternity leave,” I say, tucking my tumbler into its cupholder pouch before sliding in my laptop and zipping the bag shut.

“That’s nice of you.”

“She’s had six weeks with that beautiful baby. I’m sure she wants to come back to a smoothly running classroom. It’s the least I could do.”

“I’m sure she’ll be appreciative.”

“Mhm.”

He seems almost like he’s talking just to talk now, and when I zip my fleece jacket on and loft the strap of my tote over my shoulder, I realize he hasn’t moved. It’s the juxtaposition of his rigidity, and the way he looks like a ball of clay ready to melt at any touch, that throws me off. I don’t think I’ve seen this man as anything but firm and strict, but suddenly, his vulnerabilities are trying to bulldoze through to the surface. A peek at the clock tells me that it’s closer now to eight o’clock than it is to seven. Biting my lip, I walk toward him and extend my hand.

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