Bad Teacher (Bad Girls Club Book 3) Page 4

  Soon, he came, his groan filling the space as he filled her with his hot load. She motioned to move, but all her body seared like she’d been in some electrically charged area and needed time to adjust to reality and stop the tingling sensations running up and down.

  She resisted the urge to droop over the chair and let her body fall to the floor, and not move for about three hours. The post-sex glow shifted into a burning realization, heating her cheeks and neck. She’d slept with her student’s dad. Oh, no.

  There was no way the principal would approve of this.

  Not that he’d ever know, but still—

  “You okay?” he asked, impatience lacing his voice.

  She cleared her throat. Time to act like a big girl. “Yes.”

  “Merde. I didn’t use a condom. I want you to know—”

  “I’m protected,” she said, thinking of the IUD she had installed after Trevor was born. “And I’m clean.”

  He sighed. “I’m clean too.”

  “Good. So there’s nothing to worry about,” she said, smoothing over her clothes. And lying through her teeth. But she’d discuss this little rendezvous with her friends later, and not with him.

  “Listen, Violet, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  But I did. She cleared her throat, and folded her arms. Of course he didn’t predict sex with her—she was probably too bland for his taste, and he’d acted on impulse. Crap, she’d acted on impulse too, but given the chance, she’d do it again—and he wouldn’t. It was clear as day. Regret washed over his expression. “You don’t have to talk about it. It’s done.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want what happened to stand in the way of Marcelle’s learning,” he said, as if wanting to make his intentions obvious.

  “It won’t. I’ll be there tomorrow,” she said. If she was going to pretend having sex with him meant nothing, why not start now? Wasn’t Marcelle’s fault that she’d had sex with Theo, and she enjoyed teaching the girl.

  A flicker of gratitude sparked in his eyes. “Thank you.”

  She nodded, then touched the back of her neck, her fingers drumming restlessly on her skin. “I’ll let you go now—see you tomorrow. When I go teach her, I mean.”

  “I didn’t see you there, Theo,” said Alan Brooks, the manager of one of his restaurants. “Been here for long?”

  Theo fixed his hat and focused on carefully cutting the vegetables to add to a juicy steak the sous-chef was preparing. When had been the last time he actually joined his people in the kitchen and got hands on? At first, spending time in the kitchen was essential—Celine had been a much better chef than he ever could be, but he enjoyed touching food.

  Food made sense. Always.

  He arranged a couple of dishes, then placed them on the counter. “I came a couple of hours ago, to check in,” he said.

  After the prior evening, when he’d given in and taken Violet over her chair, he’d done every possible task to keep busy. He’d organized his paperwork, emailed his accountants, cleaned up his email inbox. Hell, he’d even rearranged some furniture in his bedroom in the wee hours of morning. Then, he’d dropped his daughter at school and took on a two-hour workout routine, which usually would make his muscles a lot more relaxed afterward.

  Yet, sinful memories from Violet’s body, the way she felt in his arms, the wonderful scent of hers… intruded his mind when he least expected. She’d felt so right. A wave of apprehension rippled through him. She’d been good for sex, and so had he. What else could he offer her? She had baggage, and he wasn’t equipped to help her carry it—not when he himself had his own overstuffed emotional luggage.

  With Celine, she had conquered him with her congenial personality and easy ways. She’d understood his upbringing, from bits and pieces he had let sift through his defenses, or talking to his sister over the phone. But she’d never demanded much from him that he wasn’t willing to give. Violet was the opposite.

  She had been through hell and back, and wouldn’t accept less than what she deserved. He clenched the knife on his hand. Neither should she.

  “Is everything okay?” Alan asked, leaning close.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You usually come help when you need answers and you focus on the job at hand. This time, you seem absentminded.”

  Theo waved him off. “I’m as sharp as a knife, Alan.”

  Alan lifted the dish Theo just prepped, and didn’t need to point. The Brussel sprouts had not a tad but too much oil around them, and the carrots drowned in it. Even the house special sauce, a recipe from his home country, had not the same citrusy fragrance it usually did. The whole thing was a mess, and not ready to join the juicy piece of meat the sous-chef had finished.

  He removed his hat and stepped back. Fuck. “A bit absentminded.”

  Alan crossed his arms over his chest and made that long face with the snarky expression. “What’s her name?”

  Her name? Mon Dieu, had he been so obvious? Theo shushed his manager and nudged his arm. “There’s no ‘her’.”

  Alan narrowed his eyes, an amused smile forming on his face. A gay man in his fifties, Alan was far too astute to let anything slide. Especially when it came to relationships—after all, he’d been married for over twenty years.

  A couple of employees raised their heads, attuned to their conversation. Theo ushered Alan to the back office, unwilling to let people make gossip out of his private life.

  “Listen, I don’t want any jokes about this lady,” he said after he closed the door behind him. Multiple certifications and awards covered the textured walls. He glanced at the picture of Celine and Marcelle on the left, and drew in a breath.

  Alan’s gaze followed his, like he guessed his thought. “You said there was no lady.”

  “There isn’t.” He cleared his throat.

  Alan crossed his arms. “And who is this nonexistent woman we’re talking about?”

  He looked up at the ceiling, bracing for what was to come. “Marcelle’s private tutor.”

  Alan erased the gap between them and nudged his elbow. “Naughty, naughty,” he said in a teasing voice.

  “Once. But that’s it. She doesn’t want anything else, anyway.” She had been quick to get him out of her place, and he couldn’t blame her. Maybe she regretted having sex with him.

  “And you?”

  “I’m not ready for a relationship, nor would I impose one on Marcelle, who’s still mourning her mother.” He gazed at the picture again and outlined the frame with the tip of his index finger. With a sigh, he disengaged and turned away, as if the contact had hurt him.

  Alan cocked his head to one side. “Who’s talking about a relationship?”

  “No one?”

  Alan walked around him, pacing in a slow circle, saying, “So, you have a woman who wants nothing more with you and you want nothing serious with her.”

  “Yes. As you see, there’s no problem.” Though forgetting her would prove a challenge. He popped his knuckles. He wouldn’t dare mess with the tutorship, not when she’d been the only one Marcelle had engaged with. Instead, he had to take a lot of cold showers and be sure to minimize his seeing her as much as possible. He’d bury himself at work or use the sitter whenever Violet came around. And not peek out of his office under any circumstances.

  “Oh, but there is.” Alan widened his eyes. “See, you’re a man who hasn’t had any sex in ages. And you’ve had it, hhmm, once?”

  He sighed.

  “Why don’t you settle for another taste of that exquisite dish? I don’t need to remind you most women won’t necessarily throw a beefcake like you out of their beds.”

  Theo touched his beard. “A regular hook up?”

  Alan shrugged. “Why not? Does everything have to be do or die in life? If you’re attracted to her, why can’t you just have fun? That will ease you into one day being ready for the right person when she comes along.”

  “I was married to the right person—”

  Alan waved
him off. “Yes. I know. I meant, another right person.”

  Theo narrowed his eyes, wondering how nice it would be to share intimacy on a regular basis again. Violet didn’t want anything serious, but she’d enjoyed having sex with him. No one could have faked that reaction. A twinge of hope moved in his chest, and heat radiated from it. Why not try? “I guess as long as my daughter doesn’t find out. She’s my main priority.”

  5

  “Mommy, can I have some cotton candy?” Amanda asked, pointing at the endless line in the busy carnival.

  “Sure, sweetie,” Violet said, keeping her fourteen-month-old son Trevor attached to her hip. If she let him walk, he’d take off and run to the Ferris wheel. She knew it because she’d raced after him twice already.

  “Come on,” Amanda said, pulling her hand.

  She took the last spot in the line, wondering if she’d still have teeth by the time they reached the start. But Amanda didn’t care, jumping up and down on a pre-sugar rush, and blowing raspberries to make her little brother laugh.

  Violet kissed the top of Trevor’s head. It’d taken her a long journey to be here today, healthy and mentally stable, with her children—and she wouldn’t take any of it for granted.

  “Dad, is that Ms. Violet?” said a voice she’d come to recognize.

  She turned her head in the direction of the voice to find Marcelle tugging her father’s arm. A shot of awareness spilled in her veins. She squared her shoulders, and the easy feeling from a moment earlier dissipated. Each step they took in her direction, her heart pounded harder. That afternoon, she’d gone to teach Marcelle after school, but Theo had remained in his office, only saying hi but not bothering to come out to talk to her.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. The previous night, she’d had sex with him—and now she faced him for the first time, with three minors around. Welcome to adult dating. Well, not real dating.

  “Oh, hi,” Violet said when they were within a few feet from her. “Amanda and Trevor, say hi to my student Marcelle and her father, Mr. Theo.”

  Amanda smiled. “Hi. Do you want cotton candy too?”

  “Sure,” Marcelle said. “Is that your brother? He’s so cute.”

  “Yeah…”

  Amanda quickly took to Marcelle, as she loved older children. Violet avoided looking at Theo with all that she had, but at some point, her gaze strayed to his, and when their eyes met, something sucked the air out of her lungs.

  Dressed in casual jeans and a white shirt, he couldn’t look more delicious. Specks of gold flecked in his brown irises, making his expressive eyes even more complex and compelling. Suddenly, her throat became dry and thick.

  “Hey,” she said, foolishly lifting her hand in a pathetic wave as if he were much farther away. Being near him in public sent a shot of awareness through her. The tips of her fingers trembled, and she managed to jam her hand in her pocket before he noticed.

  “Hi. You have cute kids,” he said with a neutral smile.

  “Thanks. I only get half the credit.” Her ex was good looking. Hella good looking. Different than Theo, though. Theo’s features weren’t classically handsome, he had a rugged vibe going on, yet the end result was so fucking sexy. Damian she could get away from—she had. But Theo… every time she saw him, she had to wrestle her self-control.

  “May I hold him?” Marcelle asked, pointing at Trevor.

  Her son wiggled in her arm. “Of course. He may try to escape though, he’s an escape artist.”

  “Mom, put him on the ground and show her,” Amanda asked, tugging at her free arm.

  She glanced at the line, still monstrously long, and back at her daughter. Amanda usually made a big deal whenever she had to use separate stalls in public restrooms. Violet had taken her to family therapy, but her daughter still didn’t trust her much out of her sight. Frustration clawed her throat. Shit. “I can’t because I need to be in the line and—”

  “We’ll catch him if he goes too far,” Marcelle offered.

  Violet gently put her son on the ground and he squealed, happy to walk wobbly and take everything in. Amanda held his hand, offering him balance, but he waved her off and continued to walk in the direction of the spinning teacups.

  “Oh cool. Can we go?” Marcelle asked her father. “Please?”

  “If Ms. Violet says yes,” Theo said.

  Amanda shifted her weight from one foot to another, looking at the ground but still holding her brother. Violet rubbed her forehead. This would be a good moment to show her daughter she didn’t disappear every time Amanda left her for five minutes—like she’d been trying to teach her for the past months. “Mom,” Amanda called her.

  Icy apprehension slid down her spine. Violet leaned down, expecting her daughter to whisper in her ears she wouldn’t go through with it, or needed her to go with them. “Honey, you can do this. I’ll be right here. I promise.”

  Amanda nodded slowly, like registering her mother’s words. “Okay.”

  “Good.” She reached for her wallet to grab some tickets, but Theo lifted his hand in denial and helped usher the three children to the attraction.

  She watched them go, and when she realized he went on the ride with them, she sighed. Her core melted, and a warm sensation sizzled her nerve endings. This is what it would have been like if her marriage had worked—she’d have someone to share a glass of wine at the end of the day, and accompany her on school events and take her kids to something as silly as a spinning teacup.

  But her marriage hadn’t worked, and when she’d returned to her family and her husband, it’d been too late. Was it too late for her, also? Would she ever meet someone new, someone to share new milestones with her and her kids?

  Maybe.

  That future man certainly wasn’t Theo Brodeur. He’d made it clear, and now he posed as the nice guy because her daughter was in attendance.

  When they returned, she had advanced two-thirds of the line, which still seemed unbearably long. Maybe she was in the wrong profession and should have a sugary cotton candy stand instead.

  “How was it?” she asked.

  “Loved it!” Amanda flashed her a bright smile that sent a jolt of joy to her heart.

  “Good,” Marcelle said, holding Trevor.

  For the following minutes, Amanda and Marcelle let Trevor walk in his drunk penguin fashion, wobbling but not falling, and followed him around. Every so often, Amanda looked behind her shoulder, but still walked forward and enjoyed the moment.

  “Thanks for taking them,” she said to Theo, hoping he didn’t notice the emotion leaking into her voice. Would this be a new way to help Amanda overcome her separation anxiety? In that case, Marcelle would have to move in with them. Seriously.

  “My pleasure. You know, my being here wasn’t a coincidence.” He looked square in her eyes.

  She smoothed her ponytail, unsure about what to do. Her sex hummed, her body so organically recognizing his. What the hell did he mean? “No?” she managed to say, in a low voice that only he heard.

  He stepped closer still, inundating her with his male energy and his virile scent. She inhaled, wondering how amazing it would be to nestle against his neck and smell his salty flesh. Her nipples hardened at the thought, straining against her bra.

  “Marcelle follows you on Instagram. Every so often I check on her account to make sure it’s still private and safe. When I saw your picture and check-in, I acted on impulse. I intended on bringing Marcelle and accidentally bumping into you.”

  She’d posted a picture of herself without the kids, a picture Amanda had taken of her. So he’d assumed she was by herself or with friends, perhaps. Adrenaline rushed through her blood. “Why?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  She glanced around to make sure the kids were within a safe distance. “You did last night.” And could have seen today, she added to herself, when she stopped by his place to tutor his daughter. Instead, he holed up in his office while she taught Marcelle.

  He l
eaned closer, making it painfully difficult for her to ignore his massive body next to her. “It wasn’t enough.”

  “Why are you stalking me now?” As flattering as it was, she needed to get to the bottom of it. She rubbed her palms, both clammy, against each other. “You couldn’t leave my home fast enough last night.”

  “I can’t offer you a relationship.” He glanced down, hands perched at his waist. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”

  Little shivers of female appreciation ran down her spine. She threaded her fingers together, fidgeting. He wanted her… he hadn’t slept with her only because she aroused him at the moment. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to make sense of his words. Was he proposing an arrangement? A mindless hook-up?

  “I’m not ready for a relationship either,” she said. She was too busy reclaiming her new life to give much of herself to someone else other than her children. Wouldn’t be fair to them, either. But a casual affair was a different story, right? Her pulse skittered at the thought.

  “Are you okay with seeing each other without any fantasies of commitment? And without letting the children know?” He lifted his gaze to her, pinning her to the spot.

  Was she? She stared in his eyes, and once again, her heart fluttered. All her life, she’d followed some stupid guide of what was expected of her. She’d graduated at the top of her class at Brown. She married a surgeon and had two children. She’d stayed mum about the abuse she suffered as a child. What if, for once, she forgot all the rules and acted on impulse? Responsible impulse. “Yes,” she blurted, before she changed her mind.

  “May I have a word?” Violet said, after a light knock on Principal Clark’s office.

  “Sure, come in,” he said, straightening some papers out of the way. He fixed his glasses and stood as she entered and made her way to the chair in front of him. Earlier that morning, she’d seen him back in passing, but hadn’t had a chance to chat with him until now.