Punished By the Teacher (Forbidden Authority #2)

Chapter 1

GRACIE

I’m twenty years old and I’m faking my way back into high school. Who in their right mind would do that?

Well, I would.

And not because I’m excited to brush up on the history of the Roman Empire. It’s because Chris started teaching here this year. Chris, my dad’s best friend and the man I’m desperately obsessed with.

I’ve known him for years. He was always that guy who brought hot dogs to the barbeque and came over for movie nights. He looked out for me like he was my second father and even carried me home from soccer one day when I sprained my ankle.

But now that I’m older, he’s the man who makes my thighs press together at the dinner table. Who flashes me that dashing, fantasy-hero smile that he has and gives me goosebumps all over.

Last week when he came by, I dropped the potato salad when I caught a glimpse of his muscled back as he swapped shirts on the back patio. He was so nice about it, despite it being obvious that I was so nervous around him. He even helped me sweep up the broken glass.

Chris coming over is a double-edged sword. On one hand, I get to be around him and let that part of me that has been dying to see him go free. But on the other hand, just seeing him makes me burn for days, dreaming of him, closing my eyes and touching myself all over, pretending it’s him.

I know he’s off-limits. He’s thirty-four. I’m only twenty, and he’s Dad’s best friend, so I tried pushing him out of my head by going on a bunch of app dates. But they all ended with me wanting to jump into a pit of hungry anacondas.

Guys and me are like oil and water. We just don’t mesh. But something about Chris has me feeling constantly hungry. Desperately thirsty. There’s this painful longing in my center, and I know that he is the only one who can quench it.

Now wearing my plaid skirt and knee socks that I bought from the thrift store along with a white dress shirt and green tie, I chew my lower lip and stare at the faded brick walls of Pine Hills Prep.

I’m holding a forged transfer order that I fabricated on my computer. My plan is to hand it in at the office and hope they don’t see right through me.

Yeah, this is absolutely unhinged, but I can’t help myself.

The front doors to the century-old building open like a dark portal to a new dimension, one where I don’t belong. Not only do I have a diploma from Blue Forks, the local public high school I attended, but I’m also about a thousand tax brackets beneath everyone here.

You can practically smell the money in the air. Vaulted ceilings, handcrafted wood paneling, portraits of famous graduates lining the walls. The wealth-privilege presses down on me like a sweaty giant’s palm, but I square up my shoulders and stride down the hall like I own the place.

Girls eye me as I pass, muttering to each other just loud enough for me to hear.

“Who is that?”

“Is she new here?”

“Why does her uniform look so ratty?”

“Is that even in dress code?”

I smirk to myself. Whoever asked that is right; my skirt is definitely not in adherence with dress code. They’re supposed to be knee-length, but mine stops mid-thigh. Someone’s bound to reprimand me for wearing it…

…and that’s the point.

I’m not going to lie—this is kind of thrilling. Sure, I’m terrified as I step into the office and hand my totally legitimate transfer paper to the lady behind the desk. She’s scrolling on her phone and barely gives it a second look before typing something on the computer and handing it back to me.

“Welcome to Pine Hills, Ms. Williams.”

Wiping the sweat from my forehead with my wrist, I stuff the order back into my bag. “Thank you.”

My ears are hot as I go back into the hall. Just knowing Chris is somewhere in this building has me on edge, checking every door and every corner as I walk, just on the chance that I might see him.

Thank God I wore a bra today too. My nipples are hard and my toes are tingling against the tight leather of my shoes.

He’s here somewhere. I feel his presence like an invisible force tugging at me, pulling, whispering words in my ear I’ve been desperate for him to say out loud.

It may sound like I’m some devilish girl with an overactive sexual appetite, but in reality, the furthest I’ve gone with a boy was when I kissed Jacob Glidden behind the maple tree in first grade on a dare. He screamed “Ew!” and ran home.

But over these last couple of years, my infatuation with Chris has reached an unbearable level. He’s gone from a sort of pseudo-father-uncle figure to this irresistible hunk that’s here to fulfill all my daddy issues.

And I don’t even have daddy issues!

The sound of giggling female voices assaults my ears as I round the corner, and that’s when I freeze.

There he is.

Chris, surrounded by a sea of schoolgirls, all bouncing up and down, flashing smiles, playing with their hair, desperately preening for his attention. A pang of jealousy spears my heart like a hot dagger.

Don’t look at them! Just look somewhere else!

He hasn’t even noticed me yet, but my eyes are glued to his statuesque physique.

Leaning against the doorway of his classroom, coffee in one hand, his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the corded muscles of his forearms. His jaw is symmetrical and flawless, and as his lips twist up, I start to melt like a candle.

There it is. That fantasy-hero smile that starts my thighs burning.

“So…do I need to stay after school, Mister Davis?” a blond girl asks in a baby voice, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger. The urge to drop kick her nearly overwhelms me.

Don’t you dare say yes, Chris.

“No, that’s quite all right, Regina. Just make sure you make up the homework for tomorrow.”

The girl sighs, deflated. Chris watches her walk away, and it’s not even like he’s checking her out, but just seeing his eyes on her has my stomach boiling over.

Rolling my shoulders back, I stride forward, envisioning myself on a Victoria’s Secret runway.

I’m not a fake high schooler. I’m a supermodel. Yeah, totally.

My heels click against the hardwood as I approach the frenzied mob of estrogen. Even a female teacher steps in, desperate to be acknowledged by the handsome star of the school. Chris smiles and nods, turns to enter his classroom, raising his coffee to his lips—

And that’s when he sees me.

Hey, you.

My pulse skyrockets, pounding madly in my veins like I’ve been swept up by an electrical storm.

Every inch of my body starts to hum with a hidden pressure.

I can feel every hair follicle on my arms as they begin to tremble and quickly clench my hands into fists in a desperate attempt to keep up my facade.

I’m in charge here. I’m a supermodel. Nothing to be worried about.

In fact, I push it down further and imitate what I’ve seen girls online do and shift my hips, angling my body to him and arching my back to push my chest out.

I see the recognition in his gaze.

Yes, it’s me. Now what are you going to do about it?

Time slows down as our eyes lock. That painful desperation in my center sweeps through me like an exploding star, and my limbs begin to prickle with anticipation.

Chris’s eyes sweep my body. A spotlight from space blasts down on me, and despite how incredible it feels to have his full attention, I instantly second-guess myself.

Should I have come here? How will he react? What will he do?

His brow darkens, and he pushes through the mob of girls and walks up to me. The lines of his strong legs are visible through his khakis.

And above that…a thick, knotted center between his thighs, like a fist trying to tear its way through the fabric.

Is that…because of me?

My pride swells at the thought. Sure, guys have given me looks before, flirted a little, but as far as I know, I’ve never made one…hard. Especially not one of Chris’s caliber. He’s levels above any male I’ve ever met.

His shoulders are broad and sway like an ancient warrior going into battle. There’s something immovable about him, like he could single-handedly hold up this entire building if it were to fall.

He stops before me, and although I’ve been in this man’s presence hundreds of times, this is different. We’re not at my house, and my dad’s not around. It’s just us.

As he towers over me, my panties sodden, the goosebumps reappear, and a feather-light sensation tickles my chest from the inside. I still don’t understand how such a man can exist. I’m five foot three, and I don’t even reach his shoulder. I bet he could lift me to the ceiling with one arm.

His eyes are deep brown like the perfect cup of coffee, and even with his hair swept back for school, there’s a wild intensity to him, like a man untamed by society.

Cheekbones that could shape diamond, and just the right amount of scruff that has me fantasizing about how it would feel against my cheek.

I can almost feel him tugging at me, like the gravitational pull of two stars. The desire for him that led me here is going to go off with more energy than the Big Bang.

God, I’m getting lightheaded.

“Gracie,” he says slowly, his voice like warm gravel. “What are you doing here…dressed like that?”

Okay. Time to perform.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” I ask, pulling out my fake transfer order. “I’m enrolled here now as a senior.”

Chris’s eyes flash as he takes the order from me and looks it over. My panties are damp, and I struggle not to jump around as my pulse flutters chaotically.

“A senior, eh?” I see from his eyes that he knows it’s bullshit. I take a deep breath, in and out, trying to control my racing heart, knowing that in a few seconds, he’s going to call me out and send me home.

But he doesn’t.

He makes a low humming sound and looks me up and down like an inspector, from my new shoes to my old tie. The hunger is unbearable. He sweeps his gaze back down my body, letting his eyes linger on my breasts. I arch them out, giving him a better look.

If only he could see through the shirt and the bra to my nipples, which are perked up because of him. Because of the excitement. If only he could see up my skirt to my soaked panties.

It’s your fault. That’s what I want to tell him.

“Well, welcome to Pine Hills,” he finally says, handing me back my paper. It smells like him now. His smoky musk that reminds me of the forest on a fall day. I cover my lips with it to hide my smile, and at the same time, inhale deeply.

My throat contracts, and I start to salivate. The smell’s so sharp I can almost taste it.

Chris starts to turn away, and my heart drops. I have to stop him. “You seem to be pretty popular here.”

Way to go, Gracie. How obvious do you want your jealousy to be?

I’m jolted by thoughts…dirty ones. Without any experience, I don’t even know what to envision. All I know is that him standing here, having power over me as a student, has me buzzing.

He turns back to me and runs his tongue across his lower teeth like he’s pondering something. Then, very slowly, he aims his index finger at my skirt. “That’s too short, Gracie. Dress code violation.”

Feigning ignorance, I twist on my toes, causing the green plaid to swing, exposing even more of my thighs. God, I feel so alive as his eyes narrow and his jaw tightens.

You want to look away, don’t you? But you won’t.

The bell rings suddenly. I jump, but Chris is not fazed. He takes a sip of his coffee and licks his lips clean.

“Time for class. But I expect you in my office after final period so we can discuss proper disciplinary action for this…infraction.”

And like that, he’s gone, walking away from me back to his room. A fuse is burning inside me. Any moment I might explode.

Watching his back muscles as he moves sends a shiver through me. Let’s see how long you last, Mr. Davis.