Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Tom
R unning helps me clear my head. So even dressed in this blasted suit, it’s no surprise I’ve ended up on the school’s track.
When I put my hope in fate bringing Paisley and me back together, this was not what I had in mind. Tonight’s been a shit show of epic proportions. When I wasn’t searching the crowd for a glimpse of Paisley, I was chatting to her fricking husband. And he was nice.
Ugh, why couldn’t he have been an asshole?
I walk the track a few times, stopping occasionally to toss away any stones I find when I hear someone calling my name.
“Tom. Tom, can we talk?”
For a second, I forget how to breathe. The stark floodlights throw Paisley into the spotlight, and her tight pencil skirt and fitted blouse hint at the perfectly tempting silhouette underneath. She sounds just like she did before, innocent, and sweet, and fucking irresistible. At least now I know better.
“What do you want, Paisley?” I huff, throwing another stone across the field. “Come to ask me to keep your dirty little secret?”
“No,” she says, coming closer. She looks better than she did in the hall; less terrified, more determined. I wonder what it is she wants. “No, not at all. Look, I know tonight’s been a bit of a shock, but it’s not what it looks like.”
I laugh humourlessly. “Really, Paisley? It’s not what it looks like? So, you didn’t just turn up to parents’ evening with your son and husband?”
“No. Well, sort of. Mason’s my son, but Brendon and I aren’t married. We divorced eighteen months ago.”
Oh.
Ohhhhh.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mason,” she continues quickly. “But I didn’t think it mattered, you know? It was just meant to be Vegas, and I wanted to be Paisley for a while, not Mum or Dr Scott. Actually, it’s sort of funny. Mason’s the reason I went out with you in the first place. He called me boring just before you started your bloody Zumba class and?—”
She carries on, overexplaining everything that led us to this moment. I could stop her, but I’m too busy biting back a smile. Damn, I love it when she’s flustered.
Paisley’s not married. She’s not a cheater. She’s just someone who wanted to escape for a while, which is precisely what we both signed up for. And now she’s here.
I take it back. Fate delivered.
“Paisley,” I interrupt when she runs out of breath. “Paisley, it’s okay. I get it.”
“No, it’s not okay. I lied to you. I’m sorry, Tom.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Yeah, it was a bit scary for a minute when I thought I was going to spend my first evening as deputy head getting beaten up for sleeping with someone’s wife. But it all worked out.” I shrug easily as if I haven’t been caught sulking on the school field.
“Congratulations on the promotion, by the way. What sealed the deal? Your excellent organisation? Or your top-notch navigation skills?”
“It was my dance moves, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Paisley agrees. She steps forward again, coming close enough that I smell fresh laundry and sweet strawberries. Who knew such a clean perfume could invoke such dirty memories.
“So, Paisley,” I say, daring to reach out and take her hands in mine. “Did you miss me?”
She smiles coyly, her eyes twinkling with the promise of mischief. “A bit.”
“Only a bit,” I gasp.
Paisley leans her body into mine, her gaze flitting between my eyes and lips. I don’t need a psychology PhD to work out what’s on her mind.
“Do you want me to kiss you, Paisley?”
“Yes,” she whispers. And then she rises to her toes and captures my mouth.
Her kiss is tender, soft, just a brush of pillowy lips that has me wrapping my arms around her waist and dragging her closer. This feels right. This feels like coming home.
But the innocence doesn’t last. The moment builds, becoming more heated as Paisley throws her arms around my neck and deepens the kiss. Brazenly, I skim my hand over her tight skirt, grabbing her ass and drawing her in so that she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me. I swallow Paisley’s desperate moan and answer with my own when she starts to rock against me.
“Still so needy,” I groan, nipping at her lips.
“Shut up,” she huffs, taking my mouth again so I have no other choice.
We move together, writhing and grinding until I feel the tell-tale tingle at the base of my spine. Jeez, five minutes alone with Paisley, and I’m practically fucking her on the track. Suddenly, I’m glad I vetoed the idea of security cameras on the school field at last month’s leadership meeting. What’s someone going to do? Steal the grass?
Reluctantly, I end the kiss, stepping away to rest my forehead on hers. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I say.
“Me neither. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I’m sorry I snuck out on you. I wanted to take it back the moment the door closed behind me.”
“It’s okay. It’s what we agreed, right? A holiday romance, nothing more.”
“And what about now?” I ask hesitantly.
“Now, I think we’d be stupid to ignore the signs. Besides, I believe you’ve promised me a viewing of The Philosopher’s Stone.”
“Yeah?” My heart skips a beat in my chest, and I feel lighter than I’ve done in weeks. “My place or yours?”
“Yours. That way, you can’t sneak out in the morning.” Minx.
“Oh, so you’re sleeping over now? That’s a bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”
“Have you suddenly turned into a gentleman? How disappointing.”
“Not with you around,” I laugh, wrapping my arm around Paisley’s shoulder to walk her to her car. “Wait, where’s Mason tonight?”
“He’s at Brendon’s.” Paisley must read the apprehension on my face because she adds, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
It’ll be super awkward dating my student’s mum, but Mason’s a good kid. And if all else fails, we’ll have football to talk about.
When we get to her car, I squeeze her tight, almost afraid to let her go in case this has all been another wonderful dream. And later, when she steps into my flat, everything falls into place.
I found my missing piece in Vegas, and she’s going to turn my life upside down and inside out.
I can’t fucking wait.