Tempting Michael (Off Limits #2)

Chapter 1

Dina

Itugged at the hem of my black skater skirt, a little self-conscious at how much of my thighs were on display. I’d never worn a skirt this short before, and for some reason it felt like it was getting shorter as the night progressed.

When I'd slid it on earlier this evening, I thought I looked pretty damn good. And when I turned to check my butt out in the mirror, it only bolstered my confidence. My long legs were waxed, buffed and tanned. I felt bold, powerful, and a lot older than I was.

Now, though…with the house teeming with my friends and parents—I felt awkward and insecure; like I was cosplaying the role of someone so far removed from who I really was.

Deep laughter carried over and above the thump of the music system and the loud chatter of my friends.

The sound of that familiar chuckle injected a rush of newfound confidence and adrenaline—as well as an excited shiver low in my belly.

I was reminded just why I was dressed this way, and I chastised myself for almost failing at my plan on the first hurdle.

I straightened my shoulders and shook my hands out from their clenched fists. I called out to my inner vixen and brought her to the surface. After all, I was sixteen now—practically an adult.

Kind of.

Well, there was certainly nothing childish about my feelings for Mr Thomas.

Michael.

If I was going to act like an adult, I couldn’t go around calling him Mr Thomas. I needed him to see me as a mature grown-up; someone who was his equal.

My desperate gaze swept the crowded room, seeking out the object of my affection—the owner of that masculine, deep laugh that set my body on fire.

My best friend’s dad.

I spotted his dark head first, and my heart kicked up a rapid beat.

He was chatting with a group of other parents, and even from here I could make out his gorgeous blue eyes.

They were crinkled at the corners as he smiled widely at whoever was talking.

A delicious tingle made itself known low in my belly, and I placed a hand on the spot, trying to calm the ache of longing.

When other girls my age crushed on boys in our class, I had the hots for Michael Thomas—and have had since I was fourteen.

I preened under his presence, my cheeks heating every time he turned those intense blue eyes towards me.

And when he spoke to me…I thought I would die on the spot from both joy and embarrassment.

Unfortunately, his conversations usually revolved around how I was doing in my classes and whether I wanted a refill on my soda at dinner.

No matter how much I tried to steer our talks towards more grown-up topics…

politics, the economy, what books he was reading, he would politely side-step my questions before leaving Lucy and me to our own devices. It was frustrating.

But the worst part was that I was 99 per cent certain he knew about my embarrassing crush.

A month ago, when I came over to see Lucy, Michael was on his way out for a date.

My nose tickled and turned pink before I’d rushed to the bathroom with the excuse that I had something in my eye. Talk about being obvious.

When I’d composed myself, Michael had gifted me with a gentle smile and patted my head like I was a child. “You’ll be okay, Dee.”

I’d been on the verge of tears all night until he’d come home at eleven; sans his date. Not that I thought he would bring another woman home while Lucy and I were there, but it also meant that he hadn’t spent the night at her house.

But then Luce and I stayed up to watch Grease, and when a scene came on showing teens kissing in a car, I suddenly had visions of Michael and Betty making out somewhere in his car…or possibly more. My eyes had watered all over again, and my stupid heart broke.

But that was then, and this was now. Fortune favored the brave, and I had a whole plan tonight to show Michael that I was grown.

I pushed my shoulders back and made my way confidently towards my soul mate. But just before I reached his group, a feminine hand reached out to clutch at Michael’s arm. My stomach dropped, and my steps faltered when his head turned and he smiled at the newcomer.

Betty.

My resolve crumbled at the sight of the willowy, age-appropriate blonde. My nose started to swell again, so instead of grabbing two cokes and joining his conversation as I’d planned, I quickly pivoted to the right and pushed open the French doors leading out into the cool night air.

My high heels, which were pinching my toes, clacked noisily against the wooden porch.

I fell against the railings and let out a dramatic sigh.

The wind ruffled my skirt, and goosebumps pricked my bare arms. Visions of Betty and Michael assaulted my thoughts and my heart sank when I realized just how over my head I was.

Betty was wearing tight black jeans that brought out the womanly curves of her body.

Her sheer top was sexy, yet still conservative.

She looked classy and was way more worldly and appropriate for Michael than I was.

Meanwhile, what I’d thought was a sexy and provocative outfit—made to entice a particular male—probably just made me look like some cheap floozy who was trying way too hard to seduce by showing as much skin as possible.

Like an immature teenager.

I leaned an elbow on the railing, my chin meeting my hand as another tortured sigh fluttered past my lips.

“What are you doing out here?”

My elbow slipped so fast that I almost got a splinter. My heart shuttered at that familiar voice. I swallowed hard, needing a moment to compose my anguished emotions before I faced the man of my obsession.

Tugging my skirt down, I suddenly realized how stupid it was to be dressed like a promiscuous teen, especially when it made me feel awkward and not at all sexy.

Michael’s head tilted as his familiar crooked smile crowded his handsome face.

Despite my attire, his eyes never strayed below my face.

And why should they? He was an adult man who had women like Betty ready to be with him.

Not a silly teenager whose mom still enforced an eight p.m. curfew on a school night. Ten p.m. on weekends.

“I just needed some fresh air,” I whispered.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I understand. I swear there’s about fifty more people here than last year.”

I smirked and covered my mouth with a giggle. We lived in a tiny town, so the likelihood that our little annual summer party had grown was laughable. Michael always made me laugh.

He came up beside me, mimicking my stance. My breath drew in at his proximity, but then I got a whiff of that delicious cologne I loved so much. I straightened my posture, my eyes wide in the night. I was afraid to move in case he shifted away.

“Hey, a shooting star.” He pointed up, and my gaze followed his long finger. I saw a light fly across the sky. “Quick, make a wish.”

I closed my eyes, instantly knowing what wish to make. As futile as I knew it would be.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

I opened my eyes, and a million stars winked back at me. Even though I'd watched these skies hundreds of times, I was still in awe of the universe and how immense it was; how billions of people roamed this planet, yet we were probably just a dot in it.

Michael glanced down at me with an amused look. “That must’ve been some wish. You were concentrating hard.’’

I didn’t know whether it was because I got a hit of existentialism at how insignificant we were in this spinning planet and it could all end tomorrow, or whether it was the Screwdriver I had sneakily drunk an hour earlier, but I was feeling bold.

“Wanna know what I wished for?” I turned my body towards his, glancing at him below my long lashes.

Okay, he was visibly recoiling and moving away from me, but I still held firm to my resolve.

“Uh…sure.”

“I wished I could have my first kiss.” My voice was low as I tried to imitate the movies I’d seen when a woman was attempting to seduce a man.

“Ah…” Michael’s face paled under the glow of the porch light. His throat bobbed, and he stuffed his hand in the back pocket of his jeans before moving a step back.

“Don’t you wanna know who I want my first kiss to be with?” I ignored all warning signs that pointed towards this being a bad idea. Ignored Michael’s obvious discomfort as I powered through my seductive routine.

“Tell it to Lucy.” His tone was firm. Still, I ignored it.

“It’s you.” Without warning, I moved closer just as he grimaced and moved back, his hands briefly touching my shoulder in a gentle push.

“Dina…I know you think you have a crush on me –”

I let out a frustrated snort. “I don’t think I have a crush on you. I know I do. I want you to be my first kiss.”

I leaned closer again, but he’d already anticipated my move. He immediately, but gently, held me back, inching his body away so there was a great distance between us. Embarrassed heat stained my cheeks at his rebuff.

His face hardened, and his brow furrowed in that little gesture he did when he meant business. Like when he was about to tell Lucy off for forgetting to do her chores. Gone was the easy-going smile and the amused twinkle in his eyes. Their blue depths were filled with regret and anger.

“Dina, no. I don’t want to hurt you, but not only are you just a kid and my daughter’s friend, but I’m also a teacher at your school. This is inappropriate, and I’m sorry to do this, but I’m going to have to speak with your mom.”

My stomach dropped, and I fell back in shock. “Wha-what? Why?”

His eyes eased from their anger slightly as he released my shoulders and stepped back. “I’m a person of authority, Dina. This is for your safety as well. If someone found out about what you told me, they could misconstrue the situation.”

“B-but-”

“Dina. I understand what you’re going through. I was sixteen once upon a time. I remember having a crush on my eighth grade math teacher.”

I shook my head wildly, wanting to refute his words, but they caught in my throat. He didn’t get it. I didn’t just have a crush on him. I was in love with him.

“Mud sticks, Dina.” he continued as he took another step back. His posture was rigid, his shoulders hunched in defense.

“Even a sniff of anything inappropriate, no matter how innocent, will taint me.

And people will not be kind to you, either, even though you've done nothing wrong. These are normal, healthy emotions that everyone has gone through, but they should not be acted on, not by me or any other person in authority.”

He shook his head at me, and the gentle disappointment and pity I spied in his gorgeous blues had my heart dropping to my gut. “Stick to teenage boys, Dina.”

And with that, he strode away. Taking my shattered heart with him.