Chapter 16
E WAN
She got it and worded it perfectly.
I’m right there at a crossroads with her.
Testing her, learning about her, weighing the risks and opportunities.
This isn’t about wanting her in my bed.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I couldn’t get her out of my head.
Kissing her tenderly on the steps of her house was so not like me.
It was at odds with everything I’d done before.
I acted on impulse because I couldn’t stop myself.
I wanted to do it and gauge her reaction.
See how in tune she was with me.
She was deep. Attentive. Perceptive.
I felt something when I put myself against her.
I only felt that way once before, when I was eighteen and found the girl of my dreams.
It was scary, to say the least, and amazing at the same time. I hadn’t tasted that softness in years, so I had to think about it seriously.
What I said is factually correct.
This isn’t about wanting her.
I wanted her from the moment I saw her for the first time.
I wanted her in the middle of the road when she was on the verge of having a meltdown because of her car.
Had I not been concerned that I’d scare her off, I would’ve talked my way into her pants right there and then.
I would’ve brought her to my truck, reclined my seat, and had her sit on me and ride me until the windows fogged up.
I was hard all the way to her place, yet I tried to not send the wrong signals and suggest anything inappropriate.
I tried so many things that didn’t work.
I couldn't stop checking her ass, her tits, her shapely legs. The mist in her eyes. The way her hair hugged her shoulders.
I thought my hell would disappear when she stepped out of my ride. I didn’t expect her to invite me in. And I didn’t get the vibe that she’d asked me to do that because she wanted sex.
She was going over her options just like I am now.
If I shed my jacket and took a seat at her kitchen table, she would’ve been mine many times that evening.
On the kitchen table.
Against the counter.
On the counter.
On the couch.
You name it.
I could’ve peeled her underwear off with my teeth and kissed every inch of her.
I still get hard at the thought of it.
Being attracted to her is not the issue here.
Not being able to let go of her is.
This is a complicated issue, and I need to make sure I know what I’m doing so no one gets hurt.
She doesn’t deserve another dick who uses her and drops her. No woman deserves that. Especially one that tries so hard not to get hurt or hurt anyone.
Besides, she is little Colton’s teacher.
Elisa would kill me if she knew I’d messed with her to have her in my bed for nothing.
Yes, she would.
She’d try, at least.
We, the Bard brothers, may do questionable things, generally speaking, but we try to do the honorable things when it comes to the people close to us.
So I’m on my best behavior with this woman.
Trust me.
I am.
So, the way she put it into words is correct.
I don’t know whether to give her a go or not.
Although the more accurate version of that is, I know I shouldn’t touch her.
Touching her is about so much more than having sex.
Touching her comes with some responsibilities.
And I’m doing the sensible part now, being the adult in the room while lying to myself that I can afford to say no to her.
The reality is life is messy. There’s never a clear cut with anything. People think there is. No, there isn’t.
Every single damn time you lose something, you gain something.
You always get some of the things you want.
And you always pay a price for getting them.
Currently, I want to determine the price if we were to do that.
And then, there was something else.
Something she didn’t quite grasp, or maybe she did.
I didn’t expect to see her at the restaurant.
Of all the places where I hang out, what did she have to be there? Yes, I get it. She’s making money. I salute that, but my jaw kind of dropped when I saw her in that restaurant.
It took me a minute to push back the twisted feelings in my chest. Watching her in a different environment and being friendly with the guests, as much as it was part of her job, made me see red.
It’s one thing to be the favorite teacher of a bunch of six and seven-year-old kids. And it’s quite another thing to have grown up men checking her out. Thrusting their chests out and adjusting their dicks under the table.
Yeah… I saw them and wanted to gouge their eyes out.
It’s not like they had nothing to look at.
She looks different in this dress.
Her hair looks different, too.
And her eyes?
Don’t start me on those eyes.
They are full of life and restlessness. Like she can’t wait to experience more. Live more. Love more.
She’s a sea of life and beauty, and I want to sail her waters.
She went quiet after saying what she said, and now she’s looking out the window, paying me no mind.
Minutes later, I roll my car onto her street, where a few lights dot the sidewalks, glowing in the dark.
“Thank you for giving me a ride home,” she says before we reach her place.
I’ve never seen a woman more anxious to get rid of me. Usually, it’s the other way around. And I’m not proud of it, but that’s the game we play.
I routinely do some control damage and not promise anything to anyone, but shit happens, and women want to believe what they want to believe, and then we have a problem.
And they get mad at me, too.
But not like this.
She contains her fury, showing a lot of grace and wanting to move away from me as quickly as possible.
She wants to forget about me as fast as possible, too.
“You’re welcome,” I say.
She whips her eyes to me like my words have insulted her. But her eyes are soft in their anger.
It’s like she knows I won’t go away. As much as she knows that we’ll both fight hard for this to happen.
Her hand moves to the door handler, and she peels her eyes away from me when I speak.
“I’m glad I could help. Let me know if you need a ride these coming days. We can do this again,” I toss at her with a shred of humor in my voice, trying to get back in her good graces.
She flicks her eyes to me again.
“Are you my father now?” Ms. Prickly snaps.
I bite my lip to crush a smile.
“How old are you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Not old enough to be your father,” I say, amused.
“You’re older than me.”
I nod.
“How old?”
“Why do you want to know?”
She shrugs.
“I don’t know. I’ve never met a man like you?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“So protective.”
“It has nothing to do with how old I am. I’ll be thirty eight next summer,” I’m quick to add, noticing the growing frown on her face. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“Perfect.”
“Perfect for what?”
I’m getting nowhere.
But that’s a truism.
She is perfect.
“You’re the perfect combination of wit and beauty.”
I wait for her reaction while she looks at me like I have said the wrong thing again before she shakes her head, laughing.
“You’re driving me mad,” she says, which isn’t what I have counted on.
“I want to assure you that’s not what I’ve planned to––”
I can’t finish my sentence when she swivels, leans to me, wraps an arm around my neck, and presses her lips against mine.
Her move is so unexpected that I don’t even react.
And I don’t know whether she’s still mad at me or not.
But we continue to kiss. Like two teenagers. The way I kissed when I knew nothing about kissing a woman.
She doesn’t push it, tenderly teasing my lips.
But she enjoys it nonetheless, smiling against my lips.
“You shouldn’t tell about this to anyone, or I’ll track you down and slash your tires before stabbing you,” she jokes, and a wave of pleasure sweeps through me.
“Do you know who you’re talking to?” I ask, my arm lopped around her waist, her tits pressed against my chest.
She presses he forefinger to my lips.
“Shh…” she says, her breath hot on my lips. “I asked you about your last name. And you never told me your name. I don’t care who you are. If I hear anything about Miss Scarlett kissing the man who played Santa for the kids, I’ll come after you. Okay?”
She lifts her eyebrows at me while I grow hard for her.
“Okay.”
I take her hand and remove her forefinger from my lips.
“If you want me to keep my mouth shut, then you also have to keep your mouth shut.”
“You can count on it. I’m not the one to talk.”
“Good.”
She pushes away from me, but I don’t let her go.
“There’s one more thing,” I say, and she shifts her focus back to me. “I was serious about those rides.”
Her eyes widen with surprise.
“Truly? Don’t you have anything else to do? Christmas is around the corner.”
“I know… But I’m sure I can squeeze something in if you tell me when you need me.”
“I can take the train. Or call a cab.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“I can drive.”
“I have no doubt.”
I push my eyebrows up, waiting, while she leans back a little and searches my eyes.
“Why are you so obstinate about this?”
I shrug a shoulder.
“I don’t know. I want to help you?”
She purses her lips.
“I wouldn’t want little Colley to get sad if something happened to his favorite teacher.”
“I did quite well before you showed up. I’m sure I can manage.”
“I’m sure you can. Any side hustles I need to know about?”
If she thinks she can get away with her little spunky words, she has no idea who she’s dealing with.
I’m making an effort here to be chivalrous.
If she has three more events like the one she had tonight, I might lose her to some sucker with a flashy watch.
“What if I don’t tell you about my other side hustles?”
“Would you like me to be your stalker?”
She ponders my words before laughing, amused.
I’m dead serious, though.
If she doesn’t like me when I take her home, does she think she’ll like me when I stalk her?
“All right,” she says with a mischievous look on her face.
“I will pet sit tomorrow in Manhattan. I need to be there at nine in the morning.”
“Would eight o’clock work for you to pick you up?”
Her expression freezes as she doesn’t believe her ears.
“Okay. I’m picking you up at eight o’clock. Will that work for you, Miss Scarlett?” I ask again.
Finally, I get her attention.
She still doesn’t believe this is real.
I can see it on her face and the glimmer of her eyes.
I don’t think she’s used to being picked up and driven anywhere.
She’s Miss Independent, all right.
And right now, she’s my little Miss Independent.
“Yes. That will work. I’ll bring coffee,” she says, like we’re going to a picnic.
She flashes a smile, looking like a girl who’s gotten her wish granted.
“Deal,” I say.
A moment of silence sneaks between us when we look at each other, neither of us moving toward the other before she finally pushes the door open, collects her coat, and unlocks her seat belt.
“Have a good night,” she says, and I watch her go to the entrance, unlocking the door and getting in.
The lights come on in the house, and I watch her move around her place before she exits my line of sight.
I can’t make myself drive away.
That pure kiss we just shared rubs me the wrong way.
A few more moments pass before I slide out of my seat, shut the door, and round my car, and check the street before making a beeline for her door.
I wouldn’t forgive me if that lousy kiss was all I left her with. A short knock on her door doesn’t do it. She must be somewhere in the back already, so I knock harder.
Her heels click across the hallway before the door opens, and she greets me in her sexy dress and heels, wearing no coat this time.
Her eyebrows are smoothly knitted into a questioning look.
“Did you forget something?”
“Uh-huh,” I push out before I wrap an arm around her waist, slide my hand into her hair, and bring her to my lips.
Our lips connect like warriors fighting the battle of their lives. No hesitation. Because hesitation is death, I come to learn.
All the tension that has fueled our banter is nicely flowing through the hunger scalding our mouths.
What a beautiful minx my little school teacher is.
This time, we open the gates of heaven, opening our lips and getting a taste of how sex would feel if we had it.
She lets me thrust my tongue into her mouth, and my cock quickly stands at attention. But I won’t fuck her tonight.
I’ll drive her crazy, and little by little, she’ll fall to her knees and satisfy my every pleasure while I’ll satisfy her every whim.
And then we’ll have two options.
We either burn like candles and pull away with some remarkable memories, or we’ll never live without each other again.