Misconduct

“What will you do with the textbooks?” I asked the librarian as I unloaded the old history books I’d been storing in my classroom.

She grabbed the stack and started pulling them off her counter, one by one, to load onto a cart.

“I think they’ll be donated,” she answered. “Although I hear you don’t even use the new fancy ones we paid good money for.”

I smiled, bending down to my rolling chair to pick up another four books to hand to her.

“Not that I don’t appreciate them,” I teased, and she shot me a wink.

If anyone had a problem with me not teaching from the textbook, it certainly wasn’t her. She had been teaching in Orleans Parish for more than thirty years and had been in all types of schools, from the advantaged to the destitute. She knew how to make do with what you had and had told me the first week that the best teachers were facilitators. The more the kids did for themselves, the more they learned.

“Hey,” someone chirped.

I twisted my head, seeing Kristen Meyer pushing her rolling chair toward the checkout desk as well.

“What’s up?” She heaved a sigh, sounding out of breath.

“Just getting rid of the old history texts,” I told her. “You?”

“Ugh.” She unloaded a stack of what looked like typical library books on geology. “Is it winter break yet?” she whined.

I let out a laugh. It wasn’t even October yet.

“All right, I’ve still got a few things to do before I head home for the day. Thanks,” I told the librarian, and then looked to Kristen as I leaned down to start pushing my chair back. “Have a good night,” I singsonged.

“Wait,” she shot out. “I’ll come with you.”

She hurried, dumping the rest of the books on the counter and pushing her chair, following me out.

I exited through the double doors, moving out of the way and holding one open for her.

The school was quiet—all of the students and many of the teachers having already left for the day—and I breathed in, smelling the rain that I knew was coming. The sky had been dark this morning, heavy with thick clouds, and the current weather filled me with trepidation as the wind in the trees carried the warning of a storm that would, without a doubt, be angry.

A hurricane was in the Caribbean, heading for the Gulf, but as of right now, it wasn’t set to hit New Orleans. I hoped we were only looking at a tropical storm, but either way, the school was closing for the next two days in anticipation of flooding.

“So,” Kristen drawled as we pushed our chairs on their wheels down the hallway. “I heard something that can’t possibly be true.”

I kept pushing my chair, our heels echoing in unison down the hall.

“I heard that you”—she spoke slowly—“showed up at Tyler Marek’s office this weekend and told him off.” I could feel her eyes on me as I looked straight ahead. “And that you were wearing a miniskirt, no less,” she added.

“I wasn’t wearing a miniskirt,” I grumbled. “How the hell did you hear that?”

She squealed, her mouth opening in a gasp. “So it’s true?”

I turned away and continued down the hall, squeezing the chair in my fingers.

He’d talked to Shaw, after all?

Shit.

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “It’s just that Myron Cates is one of Marek’s vice presidents,” she told me. “His wife and I became good friends when I taught her son last year, and she said her husband came home Saturday from work having witnessed a bold young woman serving Tyler Marek his ass on a platter.”

She nodded and smiled as if it were an accomplishment.

I looked up at the ceiling, sighing. Great. Another parent I’d made a dynamite impression on.

“Are you . . .” she inched out, “like, seeing him?”

I shot her a look. “Excuse me?”

“Marek?” she suggested. “He’s certainly handsome. And successful. And . . .” She eyed me, looking thoughtful, “and you’re seeing him outside of school hours.”

I shook my head. “This conversation is over.”

I was not seeing him outside of school hours. This was how the simplest things could get twisted around and sooner or later the story doesn’t even resemble the truth. Myron Cates’s wife and Kristen Meyer were going to have me giving Marek a lap dance on a Mardi Gras float next thing I knew.

“Okay, good,” she chirped. “If you’re not seeing anyone, then come out with me tonight.”

It was Monday, but the students had gotten a surprise two-day vacation due to the storm, so there was no school until Thursday.

“I have plans,” I lied.

Even I knew I should’ve gone out and given it a shot. Kristen was a little annoying, but nice.

I just wasn’t a particularly social person, and it had been a long day already.

Maybe another time.

But the next thing I knew, she plopped down on her chair and pushed with her feet, sending herself rolling down the hallway backward and smiling at me.

“Come on,” she urged. “Live a little.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, seeing her sliding down the floor like a carefree child.

“Life moves pretty fast,” she stated. “If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Ferris,” I joked, recognizing her Ferris Bueller’s Day Off reference. “I know how to have fun.”

She snickered, blowing out a breath. “I don’t even think you know how to smile,” she taunted.

I gasped in feigned outrage.

Plopping my ass down in my chair, I slipped off my heels and turned like her, pushing off with my foot, one after the other, and scurrying after her.

“I know how to have fun,” I boasted, clutching my heels to my chest.

The hem of my navy blue dress rested at my knees, and I pedaled my feet, laughing as I caught up to her.

She picked up the pace, and I stood up, tossing my heels into the seat of the chair as I grabbed the sides of the chair and raced it.

“You can’t do that!” she screamed, wide-eyed.

I flew past her, rounding the corner to our classrooms.

“There are no rules!” I shouted over my shoulder.

And then I pushed off, dropping into my chair once again and letting myself sail backward to the finish line. I held up my hands, gloating.

“And let that be a lesson to you.” I smiled ahead at her playful scowl.

But then her eyebrows shot up, and her mouth fell open.

I looked over my shoulder and immediately put my feet down on the floor, stopping myself.

“Mr. Marek,” I said, looking up at him leaning against the wall next to my classroom door.

What is he doing here?

My chest rose and fell from the exertion, and he tipped his chin down, cocking an eyebrow at me.

I shot up, smoothing my dress down and glancing over at Kristen. I only caught her smirk before she disappeared, pushing her chair into her classroom down the hall.

I turned back to Marek. “Excuse me,” I said, feeling heat spread over my cheeks. “We were just . . .”

I trailed off, leaving it there. He knew what we were doing.

His three-piece black pin-striped suit looked crisp and dark against his fair skin, and his white shirt and slate-gray tie shimmered in the glow of the light overhead.

I took a few steps forward. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

His eyes shot down to my feet, and I followed his gaze, remembering that I’d forgotten to put my heels back on.

“Always losing your shoes,” he commented, a smile curling his mouth.

I pursed my lips and turned around, snatching my heels off the seat and slipping them back onto my feet. Grabbing the back of the chair, I pulled it behind me and entered my classroom, knowing he’d follow.

“You came to my workplace unannounced,” he stated behind me. “I thought I would return the favor.”

I replaced my chair behind my desk and looked up, seeing that he had closed the door behind him.

“And?” I prompted.

“And I came to apologize,” he admitted, stopping a few feet in front of my desk. “I’ve been unfair, and I’m sorry. Christian has his phone back, so we’ll see how this goes.”

I stilled, my heart galloping in my chest, and I almost smiled.

Really?

I opened my mouth but had to swallow the lump before I could speak. “Well, that’s great,” I said, surprised. “Thank you.”

I guess I got through to him at his office.

He slid one of his hands into a pocket and narrowed his eyes on me, looking a little surprised.

“You seem very knowledgeable and determined.” His voice sounded genuine. “You’re an impressive woman, Ms. Bradbury, and I should’ve taken the time to understand your methods.”

I kept my shoulders squared, but my eyes dropped, embarrassment warming my cheeks.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, turning around to grab a dry-erase marker to start writing the schedule on the board for when the kids came back on Thursday.

“Christian talks about your class,” he said behind me. “I can tell your teaching interests him, even if he would never admit it.”

I uncapped the marker and rested my hand on the board but didn’t write anything.

“He really can’t stand me, can he?”

I dropped my hand to my side and spun around slowly, surprised by his question.

And feeling terrible all over again. I should never have said that.

No matter how much I thought I knew about him, they were nothing more than assumptions. Who was I to insinuate his son didn’t care for him or vice versa? And what gave me the right to say anything at all in the first place?

He breathed deeply, and for the first time since I’d met him, he looked unsure of himself.

“I was twenty when he was born,” he told me. “That’s no excuse, but it’s the only one I have.”

Twenty.

I was twenty-three, and I couldn’t imagine having a child right now.

I watched him and waited, not wanting to say anything or interrupt because I found I kind of liked it when he talked.

“I know what you think of me.” He looked me dead in the eye and then dropped his gaze, speaking in a voice close to a whisper. “And what he thinks of me.”

And then he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I even care what you think. You don’t give a shit about me, but I guess that’s what’s so intriguing.” He moved forward, his soft eyes turning to steel. “You’re so cold and distant,” he charged. “I guess I wouldn’t think anything of it if I hadn’t seen you so different at one time.”

I inhaled a shaky breath, looking down at his right hand. The same one that had held my waist while we danced.

I licked my lips, barely noticing him advance.

“You were flirty and fun.” His voice turned husky, and I looked up, seeing him round my desk slowly. “And you keep pissing me off, but it feels good,” he whispered, playing with me, drawing me in.

I knew that look in his eyes. I may not know much about him, but I knew that look.

And we were in my classroom.

His son’s classroom.

I may have had little shame, but he had none.

“Mr.—”

He cut me off. “Why won’t you ever say my name?”

I shook my head, confused. “Why do you care what I think?”

“I don’t,” he maintained. “I care that you don’t think of me at all.”

I narrowed my eyes on him, clenching my teeth. “That’s not . . .” I trailed off, plastering my back against the whiteboard as he hovered over me.

“That’s not what?” he pressed, his voice sounding strained.

He stood so close that I had only to lift a hand and I could touch him.

“That’s not true,” I finished.

He leaned in. “You look at me like I don’t matter.” His eyes searched mine. “And I don’t like it.”

“I . . .” I shifted my eyes, avoiding his gaze. “I . . .”

Did I look at him like that?

“The masquerade, Shaw’s office, my office . . .” he went on. “You’ve completely held my attention in any room we’ve been in together,” he admitted. “Whereas you make me feel like I’m not worth your time. How do you do that?”

My body vibrated with his heat, and it was like being with him at that ball all over again. My eyelids fluttered, and I couldn’t look at him.

“I . . .” Fuck, why can’t I speak?

I cleared my throat, forcing my eyes up to his. “I don’t mean to be cold.” I spoke softly. “You are worth my time.” And then I added, “Like all of my students’ parents.”

He dropped his eyes, speaking softly as well. “It’s not often I let people speak to me the way I let you,” he confessed. “Nor should I enjoy it as much as I do.”

My heart hammered in my chest, and I wanted to tell him all of that was true for me as well. He dominated my attention when he was around, and I felt like he didn’t see me or think anything of me.

And even though he pissed me off and riled my temper, I kind of enjoyed it.

In fact, I wanted to run toward it.

“Why you?” he questioned. “Why have I been thinking of you ever since that Mardi Gras ball?”

He pressed his body to mine, and I shook my head slowly.

“Mr. Marek,” I pleaded, but it was useless. My eyes fell to his mouth, and then I glanced to my closed door, knowing that even though the students were gone for the day, there might still be staff around. “Please.”

“There was something that drew us together that night,” he maintained. “Something that got under my skin, something that’s still there.”

His mouth was an inch from mine, and I breathed hard, needing to push him away, but at the same time, that was the last thing I wanted.

“Easton,” he whispered, and reached down behind my thigh, lifting it to press himself closer against me.

I groaned, feeling the ridge of his cock nestle between my legs.

“We can’t do this,” I told him.

My clothes felt like sandpaper on my skin, and I wanted them off. I wanted his shirt open and to know what he felt like under my fingertips.

“I know,” he answered.

But while his left hand held my knee up, his right hand slid between my legs and rubbed my clit through my panties.

I sucked in a sharp breath and clutched his shoulders, letting my eyes fall closed as my head floated away from me.

“Mr. Marek,” I begged.

But his breath fell against my mouth, and he whispered, “I told you there would be no stopping me when we finally ran into each other again.”

And before I could open my eyes, he’d captured my bottom lip between his teeth and then kissed me, sending me reeling until I didn’t know which way was up.

I couldn’t fight it. His tongue dove into my mouth as he pressed me against the whiteboard and kissed me hard. I circled my arms around his neck, knowing I was getting myself into a shit ton of trouble, but I didn’t care at the moment.

My body needed him. That’s all it was.

I wouldn’t get involved emotionally—I never did.

He grabbed me underneath both thighs and swung me around, planting my ass on the desk.

I groaned, his mouth working strong and fast over mine, stealing my breath as pleasure swarmed in my chest. It spiraled downward like a cyclone low in my belly.

I tightened my legs around his waist as his fingers slid under my dress, raking down my thighs.

I grabbed the back of his neck, cocking my head and returning every inch of his kiss. He tasted like coffee with vanilla, and I felt a hint of stubble on his face under my fingertips.

Dropping my hands down his body, I started unbuttoning his black vest. It was too thick, and I couldn’t feel him.

I pulled my mouth back, then dove back in to flick his tongue with mine.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, eating me up with quick kisses and nibbles. “Why does it have to be you, huh?”

I fumbled with the last button and finally tore open the vest, running my hands up his stomach and chest, covered only by his fine white dress shirt.

But even through the shirt, I felt the dips of his abs and pecs and of his toned waist and back.

Something screeched to my right, and I twisted my head to see the flailing branches of the tree outside scraping against the windowpane. The leaves blew, and I knew the storm would be here soon.

But I turned back to him, both of us breathing heavily, and I loved the storm in Tyler Marek’s eyes even more.

He slid his hands inside my panties and leaned his forehead into mine. I whimpered and grasped the back of his neck with both hands, my pussy throbbing at the thick ridge of his cock pressing against my leg.

He leaned down, his teeth nipping at my jaw as my eyes fluttered closed.

“Tyler.” I let my head fall back, craning my neck for his lips. “Mr. Marek, please stop,” I begged.

His hot breath fell across my ear, and I shivered.

“I thought about you all weekend,” he whispered. “How do you make me do that?”

I snatched up his lips again. I liked what he was telling me too much.

He grabbed the hair at the back of my head and pulled, exposing my neck again as he dived down and whispered against my skin, “When you walked in, dressed in that short little skirt, my fucking hands wanted these thighs”—he raked his fingers down my legs again—“almost as much as my mouth did,” he admitted.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the need becoming agony. “Mr. Marek,” I quaked. “Oh, God.”

I didn’t want to stop him, but . . .

I bit my bottom lip, feeling his fingers slide up and down my pussy, dipping and bringing out the wetness, spreading it over my clit.

And then whimpered, feeling two long fingers plunge inside of me.

“Shit,” I moaned, squirming against his fingers. “Please stop,” I pleaded. “Tyler, please.”

But he just added another finger, staring down and watching the pleasure of what he was doing spread across my face.

“Say it again,” he ordered.

I blinked, opening my eyes, even though his thumb rubbing circles on my clit was driving me wild.

“Tyler,” I said gently. “Please stop.”

His mouth curled into a smile, and he stole a kiss, nipping at my bottom lip. “You don’t want me to, do you?” he breathed out.

He increased his speed, flicking my clit faster and harder and curling the fingers inside of me, making me suck in air quicker and quicker and making me so needy I damn near gave in and begged to ride his cock.

“Tyler, oh, my God,” I cried, squeezing my eyes shut again and feeling my insides swirl and tighten.

“On second thought, call me Mr. Marek,” he insisted, and I popped my eyes open, seeing the devil in his grin.

I bit my lips between my teeth, groaning as I leaned back on my hands and slid my ass back and forth, fucking his fingers.

“Yes, Mr. Marek,” I breathed out, dropping my head back as the whole fucking world started to spin.

One of my heels dropped to the floor, but I couldn’t care less.

He continued staring down at me, looking like he was completely captivated with my face.

“You going to be nice from now on?” he challenged in a hard voice, rubbing harder.

“Yes, Mr. Marek,” I rushed out.

“You going to keep your temper in check?” His long fingers filled me up again and again.

I nodded frantically, feeling the orgasm coming. “Yes, Mr. Marek.”

“And I’m not done with you yet,” he warned. “Just so you know.”

I breathed in and out quickly, my body tensing and shaking. “Yes,” I cried out.

And then the orgasm exploded, spreading down my thighs and through my belly. I dropped my head all the way back, plastering my hand to my mouth to stifle the cry as I squeezed my eyes shut and let him rub my clit, bringing the orgasm to an end.

My legs, suddenly as shaky as Jell-O, released their grip on his waist and dangled off the side of the desk.

He kissed me, holding my lips for a few moments, and for just a few moments I felt like I did on Sunday mornings. When I woke up and realized I could stay in bed.

Content.

A small smile spread across my mouth, and I felt high from him.

He withdrew his fingers, and I was almost sad at the loss until he brought them up to my mouth, resting them against my lips. I opened, and I sucked each finger, my lips wrapping around him and cleaning off the proof of what he’d gotten out of me.

His thumb dragged out of my mouth, tugging gently at my lip, and I watched him watch me.

I blinked long and hard, letting out a sigh.

What the hell are we doing?

I couldn’t get involved with a parent, and even if I did, it couldn’t be him.

I enjoyed him too much.

I leaned up, planting my feet on the ground, both heels having fallen off. I straightened my underwear and smoothed down my skirt as he slowly buttoned up his vest and straightened his tie.

“I hope it’s smooth sailing for us from now on,” he commented, buttoning his jacket.

I nodded absently, smoothing my hands down my hair. “Yes,” I said, focused more on my messed-up appearance.

But his finger hooked under my chin and lifted. I raised my eyes, meeting his.

“Yes, what?” he prompted, looking stern.

My clit pulsed and started throbbing again, and I bit back the excitement warming up my chest.

“Yes, Mr. Marek.”

He leaned in slowly, kissing my lips once more, and then pulled back and looked down at me.

“Is my tie straight?” he asked, changing the subject.

I couldn’t contain the small laugh that escaped. It amazed me how he could go from hot to boyish in a matter of two seconds.

I reached up and fixed his black and gray tie and then straightened my back, again checking my dress and my hair.

But he tipped my chin back up, locking eyes with me. “You’re perfect,” he assured me. “Everything about you is perfect.”

But then I gasped as he spun me around and forced me to bend over. I had time only to twist my head to see what he was doing behind me before he yanked up my dress and slapped me on the ass.

“Wha—!”

He pulled me back up, my ass pressing into his groin as he smoothed my dress down and palmed my behind, breathing against my neck.

“Except that little episode at my office on Saturday,” he growled low in my ear. “Don’t ever mouth off to me in public again.”

And then he let me go and walked for the door, stopping once he’d put his hand on the door handle.

“I’ll see you soon, Ms. Bradbury.” He smirked and walked out, the sound of the janitor’s cart rolling down the hallway outside my door.

I stared at his back as he left, my stomach churning at his commands and confidence, and I shot out my foot, kicking the leg of my chair.

He had spanked me.

He’d spanked me!

I looked over at the windows, the angry sky dark with the promise of rain and the trees’ leaves dancing wildly.

Smooth sailing, my ass.