31. Eleanor
Eleanor
Theo and I fall into a pattern over the next week. We’re both conflicted by what we’re doing, alternating between avoiding each other entirely and sneaking off to fuck behind the library, in the gym equipment room, the supply closet at the back of my empty classroom.
I don’t want to be this person, reckless, needy, and so unprofessional, but I can’t help it. Theo is insatiable. I’m insatiable with him. I’ve never felt such an intense need for someone, and it’s messing with my head.
But it’s not messing with my work. I’m putting in extra hours on the fundraiser and Safe Harbor, working long nights to make up for it. I’m committed to that project with my whole heart. It has to come first.
Which is exactly how I justify going to Headmaster Wright’s office during my free period before lunch on Thursday. I need his approval on the lighting plans for the fundraiser.
Anxiety ripples through me as I approach Margaret, sitting at her desk. If she’s noticed the chemistry between Theo and I lately, she doesn’t show it, but she’s definitely become friendlier in a way that makes me nervous.
“Hello, Nora.” She glances at me over her glasses, eyes twinkling. “He’s sitting in on an activity Mr. Winslow is running right now, but he’ll be back soon. Just go on in and wait.”
I hesitate. Go into his office without him? Is that allowed? Yes, he’s my… boyfriend? Lover? Shit, I don’t know, and I really don’t want to pull at that thread right now, but Margaret doesn’t know that. Besides, he’s still my boss.
She smiles as if sensing my worry. “He won’t mind. I should warn you, though”—she wrinkles her nose—“he’s been in a mood all morning.”
This does not make me feel better.
She drops her voice, giving me a conspiratorial smile. “But I’m sure you’ll know how to cheer him up.”
Then she returns to her computer, tapping at her keyboard, while heat douses my face. I hurry into Theo’s office, closing the door behind me, flooded by mortification. Did Theo tell her? I know she’s his assistant, but he wouldn’t do that, would he?
No, he wouldn’t. Juliana’s right, we’re not as good at hiding this as we think. It’s getting out of hand. We’ve been lucky so far, but we only need the wrong person to catch us, and we’re toast. Theo would lose his job. My career would be over. And another scandal would rock the school.
I press my fingertips into my eyes, breathing out. I realize I haven’t even brought the damn lighting plans with me, that’s how thin my excuse was.
God, we have to stop.
But the thought of him no longer touching me, kissing me, cheering me on, makes my heart ache.
I don’t want to stop. I want the opposite of that.
Exhaling slowly, I notice for the first time how warm the room is.
A soft crackle comes from my right, and when I glance over, my heart lifts.
He’s lit the fire. A smile tugs at my lips as I sink into one of the leather chairs, sighing at the blissful feeling of warmth.
From the fire, yes, but also from the fact that he listened to me. He always listens to me.
Hope blossoms tentatively in my chest. What if there was a way to make this work? To come clean to everyone and be together, for real? Would Theo and I even work as a couple outside the school?
Before I can fully process the thought, the door bursts open and he storms in, followed by a sheepish-looking student. He doesn’t see me. Doesn’t even glance toward the corner where I’m sitting.
“It didn’t mean anything,” the kid protests sullenly. “Mr. Winslow is the one making us draw those stupid therapy posters.”
I freeze. He’s talking about a task Rowan ran this morning in preparation for the fundraiser. A Safe Harbor-inspired activity I designed to gather student artwork and incorporate it into the fundraiser displays.
Headmaster Wright’s jaw tightens at the kid’s description of the activity, and he unbuttons his jacket with quiet authority, radiating tension as he sets it aside, as if he’s about to brawl with this kid.
“It wasn’t funny,” he grits out. “You’ve embarrassed another student, disrespected your teacher, and undermined something this school values.”
The kid rolls his eyes. “It was just a joke.”
A muscle tics in Theo’s neck, a sure sign he’s trying to control his temper. I should say something. Let him know I’m here. But his next words root me to the spot.
“You mocked something that was meant to make people feel safe. Do you think I’m going to let that slide? You need to learn some respect, Mr. Weiner.”
My heart swells. When I first met this man at the start of this semester, he cared more for school reputation and board satisfaction than anything else. Now, he’s fiercely defending Safe Harbor, an initiative designed with student emotional wellbeing at its core. An initiative I created.
“Mocking another student’s vulnerability is not only disrespectful, it’s destructive. If you can’t tell the difference, I’ll teach it to you.”
Safety. Vulnerability. Respect.
I’m not sure if he’s aware of it, but he’s using language central to Safe Harbor.
Language I haven’t heard him use so freely before.
It’s only been a couple of months, but I can see the changes in him, the growth.
And it’s not only because he’s with me. He doesn’t even know I can hear him. He cares about this. Really cares.
And that makes me feel something that goes way beyond a crush on my boss. Beyond the undeniable sexual chemistry between us.
Beyond what I’ve ever felt before.
“This school does not reward cruelty,” Headmaster Wright continues, the edge of fury in his voice sharpening. “If you want to be a person who tears others down, you can do it somewhere else.”
A defiant huff comes from the kid, and Theo’s jaw hardens into stone. When he speaks next, his voice is calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that belies the anger simmering underneath. Anger he could unleash, but he’s not, because he’s the one in control.
“You will attend the next Safe Harbor prep session. You will listen. You will participate. And if you so much as roll your eyes, Mr. Weiner, I will suspend you.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. The way he speaks, measured, hard, no room for argument, makes something hot flutter inside me. He’s putting the student in his place, but all I can think is do it to me next. Take control.
Take everything.
The thought makes me suck in a breath, and Theo’s gaze swings to me. If he’s surprised by my presence, he doesn’t show it. He simply motions for the kid to leave, and I watch, heart racing, as the boy skulks out the door and closes it behind him.
“Miss Hart,” Theo says, adjusting the cuff of his shirt with practiced indifference. I rise from my chair, unable to stop myself from crossing to him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
He lifts his gaze to mine, eyes softening. “You never have to apologize for being in my office.”
Relief bubbles in my chest, the next words leaving my mouth without permission. “That was unexpectedly hot.”
His brow arches. “Hot?”
“You were so… firm. That sharp tone and commanding energy. I honestly thought you were going to spank him.”
Amusement shimmers in Theo’s eyes. “Corporal punishment has been banned in New York schools since 1985.”
Bummer.
“Well…” I bite my lip. “You could spank me, Headmaster.” It’s a joke, but his gaze darkens.
“I could do a lot more than that, sweetheart.”
My breath catches. “You could?”
He nods. “I’m in the mood to leave a mark.”
Oh, God. Yes.
His eyes rake over me, glinting dangerously, and any earlier thoughts I had about curtailing a relationship with him crumble into dust.
He’s serious.
And I want it. Fuck, I need it. I need it so badly I can hardly breathe.
I don’t know what’s come over me. I’ve never wanted to be spanked before. But the thought of Headmaster Wright bending me over his desk and laying his large hand on my ass has me wet before we’ve even begun.
“Lock the door. Now.” His tone is rough, demanding, and I can’t move fast enough.
I turn back to him, breathless with anticipation, but he hasn’t moved. He watches me for a long moment, calm and steady as always, then sinks slowly into his desk chair.
That’s when I realize why I need this so badly. It’s not only the thrill of having him dominate me, but also the sense of safety I get from him taking control. The certainty he gives me by being firm and in charge, when my feelings—when the circumstances—feel so precarious.
“Come here.”
I go to him without hesitation, pulse thudding in my throat.
“Take your hair down.”
The steel in his voice makes my knees weak with want. We haven’t even done anything yet, but already heat builds low in my abdomen. This is the Theo Wright I met, the stern, unyielding, powerful headmaster. The man I wanted from the start.
“Okay,” I whisper, reaching for my barrette.
He clicks his tongue, shaking his head just once.
What? I blink as my hair tumbles around my face. Oh.
“Yes, sir.”
A satisfied smile curves his lips. “Good girl.”
God. Why is that phrase so hot?
“You’ll do exactly what I tell you, got that? You’re following my rules now.”
I nod eagerly. Testing him, I add, “And if I don’t?”
“There will be consequences, Miss Hart.”
My pulse jumps with excitement. If these are the same consequences I faced in the copy room, they can’t come quickly enough.
He takes a measured breath, holding himself in check. “Are you sure you want this, sweetheart? You want me to be rough with you?”
My heart squeezes at his hesitation. As if I could think of him as anything other than a good man.
“Please,” I breathe. “I want you to be rough.”
His gaze moves over me for another long moment. “If I give you what you’re asking for, you’d better be sure you can take it, because once I start, I’m not going to stop until I’m done.”
His promise sends a delicious shiver of anticipation through me. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much. I promise.”
This seems to satisfy him, and he nods. Pushing back from the desk, still in his chair, he motions to the floor.
“Then get on your knees.”