22. Eleanor
Eleanor
Iwake up alone, and for a few moments in the cool morning light, I wonder if I dreamed it.
Theo. In my house. On my sofa. Inside me.
I can’t keep lying to myself, Eleanor.
Pulling myself up on the sofa, I spy two coffee cups on the counter, reassuring me it wasn’t a dream. Proof.
Only…
As I glance around my quiet house, I know he’s gone. The bathroom door is open, the kitchen empty, my bed still made, untouched. A strange sense of unease washes through me.
I hadn’t expected him to stay—I hadn’t expected him to show up at all—but he left without saying goodbye. Has he had a change of heart? Has he realized, in the cold light of day, what a truly terrible idea it really was?
The thought nags at me as I shower and dress for the day, too nervous to contemplate breakfast. I gather my sketch and notes from the counter, remembering his request to see them today.
In the process, I knock a bunch of other papers to the floor, but I’m too jittery to care.
Too anxious to see him again, to get him alone. To ask if he thinks this was a mistake.
When I arrive at school, I remember the lesson planned for this morning, and how I haven’t done all the photocopying I need.
There’s a queue at the photocopier, as usual, and I lose fifteen minutes waiting my turn.
By the time I’ve dropped the copies on my desk and set up for the day, there’s no time to stop by Theo’s office before the faculty meeting.
Instead, I hurry up the stairs to the conference room, pulse whipping through me as I find a seat at the long wooden table. Juliana’s a few seats down from me, and I could shuffle along to sit next to her, but she might ask questions about last night.
Questions I’m not sure I know how to answer.
At least, not from Theo’s perspective. I know how I feel.
That is unequivocal. I’m elated. Dizzy. Hornier than before, somehow.
And my heart… If what I’d said to Juliana last night about falling for her dad hadn’t been true then, well, it is now.
The way he stroked my hair so gently, called me sweetheart, held me so close on that sofa as we fell asleep…
And, God, the way he spoke to me as I straddled him, loving every thick inch of him inside me…
Look at you, so good at riding my cock.
I blow out a breath, pressing my fingers to my hot cheek. Now is not the time to think about that.
Danny files into the room, beaming as always, followed by Headmaster Wright.
Theo. My Theo, I’d called him in the heat of the moment.
And as his gaze lands on me briefly, then slips away without so much as a pause, I wonder if it was too much.
If I was too much for him last night. I mean, asking about what happens next?
I may as well have asked him to go steady and take me to prom, for fuck’s sake.
Talk about not giving the guy a second to breathe.
I cringe as Danny opens the meeting, refusing to let myself look at Theo. To give the guy some space. To not ruin this before it even begins.
But it’s no use. My eyes stray back to him across the table, hands clasped firmly in front of him, brow low as always, gaze fixed on something on the other side of the room. He still hasn’t shaved, and I ache to climb across this table and stroke the rough stubble of his jaw.
Look at me, I plead silently. Look at me and let me know, somehow, that you feel what I feel.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he looks everywhere but at me. The table. Danny. His daughter. The ceiling. Every other person on the damn faculty.
Except me.
A tight knot coils in my stomach as he swiftly exits the room at the end of the meeting, and it stays there all day. I avoid Juliana, avoid the faculty lounge, humiliation clinging to me like a foul odor.
I pride myself on being optimistic, always seeing the silver lining, but when I haven’t heard from Theo by the end of the school day, I can’t muster a single hopeful thought.
I really am the naive little girl he thinks I am, aren’t I? A few late nights working with him, and I’ve somehow convinced myself we’re falling for each other. But he’s my boss. A handsome, powerful man who could have any woman he wants. Why would he choose me?
God, I’m not only naive, I’m straight up delusional.
I stuff my things into my tote bag with shaking hands, desperate to escape.
The moments we shared last night replay in my head, the look on his face when I told him I liked his glasses, the sweet way he asked if he could kiss me, the feel of his hand, so gentle on my back as I explained my sketch for the fundraiser.
Shit, the sketch. He asked to see that today, and I completely forgot. I contemplate sneaking off anyway, but that would be unprofessional. Then again, sleeping with him was relatively unprofessional as well, so…
No. Even if he doesn’t want to see me, I refuse to let him stop me from caring about my work. From doing what’s best for these kids.
With a sigh, I set my bags down, retrieving the sketch. I’ll drop it on Margaret’s desk and slip away. I can handle that.
Margaret glances up as I approach, a hint of a smile on her face. “Nora,” she says. Wow, that almost sounded like warmth.
“I, uh—” I fumble for my words, thrown by Margaret’s unusually friendly demeanor. “I just need to drop this off for Th—” Shit. No. “Headmaster Wright. Could you pass it on, please?” I hold out the sketch, but Margaret hesitates.
“Why don’t you pass it on yourself?” Her gaze flicks past me, along the hall, then comes back as she lowers her voice, almost imperceptibly. “I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
I falter. I’m not so sure, if I’m honest, and also—what does she know? Has he told her? Why is she being so nice?
“Uh—” I clear my throat, about to politely decline, when the door to Headmaster Wright’s office opens. His gaze collides with mine from under low brows, and my heart catapults into my throat.
God, he’s somehow even more handsome today. Those electric blue eyes. The sharp line of his jaw, shadowed by silver whiskers. That suit. Maybe it’s because last night I saw him come undone for the first time, and now I know what’s underneath that buttoned-up exterior.
I scan his face for any signs of happiness at seeing me, but nothing.
“Miss Hart, may I have a word in my office?” he asks, his tone as professional and composed as usual.
I swallow, forcing myself to step inside, and he closes the door behind me.
I try to hide the tremble in my hands as I set the sketch on his desk, but when I turn back to find his gaze meandering over me, I nearly knock his nameplate to the floor.
Anxiety needles my stomach, and I still can’t read his expression.
Finally, he releases a long, shaky breath, and crosses to me. “I’m so glad you’re here. What took you so long?”
I laugh awkwardly, folding my arms across my chest. “What?”
“I asked you to come find me when you got to school.”
“What? No, you didn’t.”
His brow dips as he studies me. “Yes. I left a note on your counter.”
A note? I don’t remember seeing anything, but then I was flustered this morning. And there was that stack of paper I knocked off the counter…
Shit.
Realization dawns in Theo’s eyes. “You didn’t get my note?”
I shake my head, feeling stupid. “I didn’t see it.”
“So, you woke up alone and thought I’d left without saying goodbye?”
A sheepish laugh slips out of me. “Well… yes.”
He hesitates for the briefest second, then his hand comes to my cheek, tender, before he pulls me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“I’m so sorry. I would have said something earlier if I’d known.”
Confusion tugs at me as I remember the faculty meeting. I don’t want to ask, to appear needy, but I have to know.
“What about this morning? You wouldn’t even look at me.”
I wait for him to step away, to say that he’s had time to think and we can’t go on, but a sly smile touches his lips.
“There was a good reason for that.”
I lift my brows in question.
“Eleanor, if I’d let myself look at you properly this morning, I would have thrown you onto the table and ripped that pretty dress right off you.”
I glance down at my turquoise-blue dress, embroidered with daisies. When I look back, he’s biting hard into his bottom lip, his hot gaze devouring me slowly.
Fuck.
“But… you were so cold. So distant.”
“No. I’m just a good actor.”
“A damn good actor, if you ask me,” I say dryly.
He chuckles, but I still can’t shake that voice of doubt. The one reminding me I could lose everything—my job, my class, Safe Harbor—if I get this wrong.
Theo reads it on my face, softening. “I’m sorry about the note. I was worried about someone seeing me sneak home this morning, so I left in the dark, but I should have woken you.”
A nervous laugh escapes me. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind. Because if you regret it—”
“No.”
He reaches for me, not hesitating this time, his mouth meeting mine in the softest kiss. The kind of kiss that makes my head spin, makes me forget the things I worried about all day.
“Nora, sweetheart, I wouldn’t have crossed that line unless I was sure.”
Relief washes cool through me. “Really?”
“Really. I’m in this. I’m all in.” This time I have no trouble reading his face, and he’s dead serious. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I really want that.”
“Good.” His mouth curves into a smile. He leans down to kiss me again, when the phone on his desk rings. “Goddammit,” he mutters, stepping away. He points at me. “Don’t go anywhere.”
I laugh, watching him take the call. He sends me a Sorry, this will take a moment look, as he sinks into his chair.
I motion to ask if I should leave, but he shakes his head, gesturing for me to come closer.
When I round his desk he reaches for my hand, brushing his lips over the back of it as he listens.
From what I can gather, he’s speaking to a parent about something.
I watch his shoulders tense, climbing higher with every word, and I can’t stand it.
Easing my hand from his grasp, I tug his suit jacket, until he cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, easing one arm out, then switching to the other side, never missing a beat as he assures whoever he’s speaking to that he’ll discuss this with the teacher involved.
There’s something about his competence, his control, his steady, unwavering nature that I’ve always found so attractive. It’s reassuring. Reliable. Grounding.
And so much more fun when he finally loses it.
I gesture for him to remove his vest too, and he hesitates, then slowly undoes each button, eyes locked on me as he slips that off as well.
Hanging the items on the coat rack, I return to stand behind him, sliding my hands over his shoulders.
He’s like stone, the muscles in his neck and shoulders so tight.
He tenses even more at my touch, and I remove my hands in an instant, cursing myself.
What do I think I’m doing, massaging his shoulders while he speaks to a parent? He was very clear last night: Nothing can happen at work. God, one night with this man and I lose my head. The me of a few days ago would be appalled.
But his hand reaches over his shoulder, warm as it slides over mine and guides it back to him, and I slowly, carefully, start to massage.
It would be better with oil, and his shirt off—for many reasons—but I’ll make do.
I knead his shoulders through the cotton, down to his shoulder blades, across his upper back, meeting at his spine.
He glances at me over his shoulder, eyes swimming with gratitude and something like relief.
His fingers absently loosen his tie as he explains the school’s procedure for discipline, and I knead my thumbs into the tight muscles of his neck.
His skin is so smooth there, so warm, and it’s a struggle not to lower my mouth and drag it over that soft spot.
He relaxes under my hands as I work, his speech becoming slower, less clipped.
By the time he ends the call, most of the tension is gone from his shoulders, but I keep working the aching muscles.
Then I get really bold, and drag my nails over his scalp.
He lets out a groan. Swiveling in his chair, he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his lap.
“You’re amazing,” he says thickly, pressing his lips to my forehead. “If I didn’t have a thousand other things to do right now, I’d undress you on my desk.”
I stroke a hand across his rough jaw. He looks so sexy with his tie loose, eyes glassy and hair mussed from my fingers, that I’m sorely tempted. But we both know doing that in his office is not a good idea.
“It’s okay. I need to go pick up pumpkins, anyway. We’re carving them in class tomorrow.”
With a sigh, he eases me off his lap, reaching for my sketch. “Can you leave this with me? I’ll get Margaret to make me a copy. It will be useful in planning setup.”
“Of course.”
I smile, handing him back his vest and jacket from the coat stand. He slips them on, buttons carefully fastened, tie straightened, hair smoothed back into place. Once more, he’s Headmaster Wright, and I smile to myself, loving that I’m lucky enough to see the undone side of him. The real Theo.
He studies me, as if weighing something. “Do you know the faculty cottages on the edge of campus, behind the row of cypress trees?”
I nod.
“Mine is the one in the middle. Do you have plans tomorrow night? I’d love to cook you dinner.”
I blink in surprise. “You want to cook for me?”
He smiles. “Yes. Well, I’d love to take you out to a nice restaurant, but that’s probably out of the question, given we need to keep this under the radar. Even if we didn’t run into anyone from school, it’s a small town. People talk.”
“Of course.”
“But I’d love to cook for you. Is there anything you don’t like, anything you’re allergic to?”
“Nothing,” I murmur, biting back a huge smile. I hadn’t given any thought to what a relationship with Theo might look like, given I spent most of today thinking he’d changed his mind, but that sounds divine. Him, cooking for me, in his house.
“I’d invite you tonight, but now I have a meeting with a parent.” He sighs, motioning to the phone, but he’s still smiling. “I wish I could bring you in here to massage my neck every time I get a stressful phone call.”
I laugh. “I already have a job.”
“I know.” He lowers his mouth to mine, eyes glinting as he kisses me goodbye. “But I’d make it worth your while.”