Page 5 of Avoiding Temptation
I look around at the dark and deserted car park, my heart starting to race a little, but I refuse to give him the wrong idea, even if he only does mean well. “No, I’ll be fine. See you soon.”
Before he can argue, I hop out of the taxi and all but run towards the front door. I know I’m safe here, but it doesn’t stop me looking over my shoulder, especially at night.
Chapter Three
Butterflies flutterin my belly as my Thursday night class starts to filter into my classroom. Tonight marks a week at my new job, and although it’s very different to my previous teaching position, I’m quite enjoying it. There’s something so easy and relaxed about teaching adults who mostly want to be here. It’s miles away from the privileged kids I’m used to.
Each student finds their seat and pulls out the folder I gave them last week, ready to get to work, but the desk at the back remains empty. I try not to dwell on the fact that I was kind of looking forward to seeing him again after the show on Friday night, but it’s there nonetheless.
It’s two minutes after the lesson is meant to begin, and he’s still not arrived. Pushing him from my mind, I address the class and get started.
I’ve just about finished explaining what I’d like them all to do when the door flies open and crashes back against the wall. Everyone in the room turns to see what’s going on, but his eyes only find mine. Our contact holds for a few seconds too long before he breaks away in favour of finding his seat.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Kingsman.” He tips his chin, telling me that he heard, but he still remains mute as he falls down onto his chair. He doesn’t bother pulling anything from his bag, causing anger to erupt in my belly. What was I saying about the difference between teaching adults and teenagers? This defiance is something I’m much more used to.
“Don’t worry, Miss Smith. I never stand up a good-looking woman.” He winks, and my breath catches in my throat.
Fuck.
A gasp echoes around the room.
“Right. Well. In case you hadn’t noticed, this is school, and your lack of punctuality won’t be tolerated.”
“I’m sure I have a few ways to ensure it’s overlooked.”
“Good for you.” Picking up the worksheet he should be making a start on like some of the less nosey members of the class, I walk towards him.
Picking up his bag, I make a show of dropping it to the floor with a thud before pushing his foot from the top of the desk. “This is evening school, Mr. Kingsman, not primary school. I suggest you start acting appropriately. I’ll catch you up on what you missed after class seeing as you couldn’t get yourself here on time.” I give him some very short and sharp instructions before turning and walking away, hoping to find some air to drag into my lungs.
I spend the rest of the class trying to ignore his piercing stare from the back of the room and the fact that whenever he’s finished a task I’ve given him, he puts his feet up on the desk. He’s baiting me, I’m aware of that, but I’m falling for it hook, line and sinker.
Everyone else is still reading through the first two chapters of ‘Romeo and Juliet’, ready to discuss it, but even with my head down, looking at my planner for this week's homework assignment, I can feel his stare.
Unable to resist the urge to find out what it is he wants, I lift my eyes.
A smug smile tugs at the corner of his lips in accomplishment.
Damn him.
Like he knows exactly how to wind me up, he makes a show of screwing up a piece of paper from his pad and making a half-arsed attempt at launching it towards the bin.
I fight my need to look at where it actually lands and put it in the bin where it should be. I’m strong for a few minutes, but eventually my desire for everything to be in the right place gets the better of me. As I’m summing up what the students should have just read, I bend down, pick it up and drop it in the bin. I feel his amusement behind me, and, when I turn around, I’m proved right when I see a wide smile on his face.
Arsehole.
“And make sure you’re all on time next week,” I call after I’ve finished going over their assignment. A couple of sniggers fill the room as all but one of the students put their stuff away and leave the room.
Joe, on the other hand, puts his feet back up on the desk and crosses his arms over his chest.
My teeth grind as I stare at him. The fabric of his shirt strains under his muscular arms and across his wide chest. I take in the ink covering his forearms, and my stomach clenches as I wonder how many others his clothes could be hiding.
I came to London with the intention of doing all the things I’ve craved since I was old enough to appreciate what a sheltered life I’d led. I wanted to be my own boss, wear clothes that I wanted and listen to the music I loved. Nowhere on my list was to be tempted by a bad boy, but shit, if he isn’t exactly what I need after the boring, vanilla life I’ve led. I’ve no doubt that he’d help me break all the rules I’ve been forced to live my life by.
His eyebrow lifts as if he’s waiting for me to do something, and before I think against it, I stalk towards his desk, place my palms on the smooth surface beside his feet, and stare deep into his eyes. Just like with a teenager, he needs to know I won’t cower down to him.
“I’m still waiting for an apology for being late, Mr. Kingsman.”
Unfolding his hands, he reaches for a pen that’s lying haphazardly on his desk. Lifting it to his mouth, he taps a couple of times and, just like he probably planned, my eyes zero in on his full, soft looking lips.
