Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
FALLON
Three weeks since I broke down in his arms. Three weeks since I told him about the baby and he held me while I shattered.
Three weeks of him arriving early to every class, staying late to talk, asking how I'm doing with those green eyes that see through me.
He still comes to tutoring on Fridays, but we just talk—literature, life, everything except the miscarriage.
I think he knows I can't go there yet. That even acknowledging it out loud might break me all over again.
His number sits in my phone, unused. I'm too scared to text it, too terrified of opening that door wider than it already is. Too aware that every moment with him is another risk, another chance for Daniel to find out, another step toward complete destruction.
I look up when I hear him coming. I know his footsteps now.
God, how pathetic is that? I can identify Kade Stone's walk from any other student in this building. Heavy boots, confident stride, the particular rhythm that makes my heart speed up before he even appears in the doorway.
He moves through the classroom like he owns it—all lean muscle and controlled power, a black t-shirt that clings to his shoulders and chest. Dark blonde hair falls across his forehead, messy in that way that shouldn't be attractive but absolutely is.
Jeans sit low on his hips, and there's something about the way he carries himself, the casual confidence mixed with barely contained violence, that makes my mouth go dry.
Eighteen. He's eighteen and I'm his teacher and I shouldn't be cataloging the way his body moves like I'm memorizing it for later.
He drops into his usual seat and throws me one of those devastating smiles. The kind that makes my insides melt, that transforms his hard face into something beautiful and dangerous.
I start to smile back, but movement in the doorway cuts me short.
Jules Williams walks in. I recognize her from my morning class—junior with a C-D average, always on her phone, never pays attention. She's never come to tutoring before, honestly struck me as the type who doesn't care what her grades are.
I stop wondering what she's doing here when she whines his name.
"Kade." Her bottom lip pushes out in an exaggerated pout as she crosses the room and drops herself right into his lap.
I look away abruptly. Don't want to see whatever displays of affection are in store for me.
My hands shake as I pull out my phone, trying to seem unbothered.
I open my texts—only Daniel and Mom ever message me, and I've already read both.
So I pull up TikTok with the volume muted, scrolling blindly while my chest tightens.
"Where have you been? I missed you." Her voice carries that whiny register that sets my teeth on edge.
I glance up despite myself. She's still in his lap, arms draped around his neck.
"I've been here." His voice sounds flat, bored. "You know there are twenty other chairs in this room. Why are you here anyway?"
I force my eyes back to my phone, to the videos I'm not actually watching. Trying to breathe through the jealousy burning in my chest.
You're being ridiculous, I tell myself. When I found out Grace was his sister, I felt relieved. But he never said he didn't have a girlfriend. And Jules looks very comfortable in his lap, like she's sat there a hundred times before.
Maybe she is his girlfriend.
A chair scrapes across the floor. I look up to see Kade pulling Jules out of the classroom by her hand, shutting the door behind them.
My chest constricts.
I have to be the dumbest woman ever. Letting myself get close to my student—so close that I'm fucking jealous right now. Over a teenage girl. Not just a little jealous, I’m burning with it.
God, I'm stupid.
I stare at the closed door and try to remember I'm married and how wrong all of this is and that I shouldn't be sitting here consumed with jealousy over her eighteen-year-old student possibly having a girlfriend.
The door opens again. Kade walks back in alone, jaw tight, eyes dark with something that might be frustration. He doesn't look at me as he takes his seat again.
I sit there for a few minutes in silence, getting more pissed by the second even though I have no right to be. When nobody else comes in, I stand up and start packing my things.
"What are you doing?"
I don't look at him. Can't. "Look, I'm tired and nobody else is coming. I'm just going home."
"I'm here." His voice carries an edge I've never heard before, pissed off and sharp.
"Yeah, but we both know you don't need me." I shove papers into my bag with more force than needed. "In fact, you should probably stop coming."
The words taste bitter on my tongue. I almost cringe at the thought of not having this time alone with him, but this is wrong. We are so wrong. I need to put a stop to this now, before it goes any further. Before we cross any more lines than we already have.
But he's up and stalking across the room. The sound of the door lock engaging makes my heart stutter.
He comes closer. Too close. Close enough that I can smell his scent—masculine and sweet, like spun sugar and amber.
"What's going on?" His green eyes bore into mine. "Are you jealous?"
"No." The lie comes automatically. "Why would I be jealous?"
"Come on, Peaches. Don't lie to me." He steps even closer, crowding my space. "You saw Jules sitting on my lap and jumped to conclusions again. And how did that work out for you last time?"
The fucking smirk on his face makes me want to slap him and kiss him simultaneously.
I turn away, reaching for my keys in the top drawer. Needing to get out of here before I do something else stupid. Something more stupid than everything I've already done.
His hand catches my face, turning me to look at him. "Jules is nothing to me."
I try to turn my head but he won't let me. His grip is firm, possessive, making heat pool low in my belly.
"Then why did she sit in your lap?" The question comes out smaller than I intended.
He exhales, frustration bleeding through. "Something happened between us once at the beginning of the year and she keeps following me around. I've been rude even, but she will not take a hint."
"Okay. That's fine." I pull away from him, needing distance, needing air.
When I start to walk away, he pulls me back by my waist. My back is flush against his front, his body hard and warm against mine.
"Kade." It comes out as a whisper.
"Peaches." His breath ghosts across my ear and chills rack my body.
The next thing I know he's spinning me around. My ass hits the desk and his lips crash into mine.
All thoughts of why this is wrong evaporate.
I kiss him back with everything I'm feeling right now—the jealousy, the rage, the desperation. His mouth devours mine, tongue sweeping in to claim, to possess, to consume. I moan into the kiss, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
Then he's pulling my skirt up to my hips, dropping to his knees in front of me, sliding my panties down my thighs.
"Kade." I breathe his name.
"Shh." He looks up at me while lifting my leg, removing my panties completely. His eyes are dark, hungry, filled with raw need that makes my core clench.
He positions my leg over his shoulder and kisses up my thigh—slow, deliberate, each touch of his lips sending electricity through my body. When he reaches my pussy, he places a kiss there and I jump at the contact.
"I've been waiting so long to taste you again."
Then his tongue sweeps through my lips and I nearly collapse.
"Shit." The moan rips from my throat.
His hands grip my hips, holding me steady against the desk as his mouth works me. Tongue circling my clit, then flicking and sucking. He's relentless, devouring me like he's starving and I'm his last meal.
My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there even though he shows no signs of stopping. His name falls from my lips in broken syllables—part prayer, part curse, part surrender.
This is wrong. So wrong. My student. On his knees. In my classroom.
But God, it feels so right.
"More," I gasp, the word tearing from somewhere deep inside me. "Fuck me."
The words escape before I can stop them—raw, desperate, shameless. Words I've never spoken to Daniel because he never cared about my pleasure. But with Kade, they spill out naturally, honestly, like my body knows exactly what it needs and isn't afraid to ask for it anymore.
His eyes flick up to meet mine while his mouth still works my clit, and the sight of him looking at me like that—worshipful and hungry and utterly focused on my pleasure—has me clenching around nothing.
He sucks hard enough to make stars burst behind my eyelids, his tongue circling and flicking in a rhythm that's driving me insane.
I spend another minute drowning in the sensation, in the wet heat of his tongue and the obscene sounds he makes while devouring me—sounds that should embarrass me but instead make me wetter.
Then I tighten my hand in his hair and pull him back, needing more than this.
"Please." The word breaks on a sob, desperate and needy in ways I haven't allowed myself to be in years.
He looks up at me, mouth glistening with my arousal, chin wet, eyes dark. His chest heaves with ragged breaths. "Can you after—"
He doesn't finish the sentence but I understand immediately what he's asking.
Making sure I can have sex after the miscarriage.
The fact that Kade's thinking about my body, my safety, my physical well-being even now with his cock visibly straining against his jeans—it does something to me. Makes my chest tight and my eyes burn.
Because Daniel never once asked if I was okay after he hurt me.
I nod, not trusting my voice.