Stirred (17 page)

I gasped in outrage. “We are
not
lovers!”

Sean pulled back slightly at first, but then he smiled wickedly, leaned in even farther, and said, “Oh, I’m pretty sure—to
some
, at least—that
you
sliding
your
tongue down
my
throat makes us lovers. And, to
others
, allowing me to finger-fuck you to climax in a dark corner of a neighborhood bar makes us lovers. But, I can assure you, to
everyone
, that hot wax job we did on the hood of your car the other night? Yeah, that
definitely
makes us lovers.” He leaned back again. “But hey…go ahead and call if you wanna give it a try. Should be interesting though, don’t you think,
Mrs.
Ross?”

If eyes really could throw daggers, then mine certainly were, along with an arsenal of other lethal paraphernalia. But damn, it only seemed to make him smirk wider, that stupid twinkle back and burning even brighter.

“Seaaaaaaan!” Robbie called out from the van. “Hurry uuuu-uup. I’m hungry, and I don’t wanna miss
Wallykazam!
”

With his hand out, Sean turned back to the vehicle. “Just one more minute, bud, okay? I’ll get you home and make your snack. Then you can watch
Wallykazam
.”

With that, he spun back around and faced me, his head tilted just a hair and his dark eyes sharp and intent upon mine.

“I know you wanna hit me, Eden. Smack me hard right across the face,” he whispered with the hint of regret, “and that’s perfectly understandable. Considering my behavior, you’ve every right. But I claim temporary insanity. I just can’t seem to control myself. You drive me crazy, make me hard just thinking about you, let alone looking at you.” He inched his gaze up and down my body. “I’m sure I’ve handled this whole situation quite miserably, but honestly, Eden, I’ve never felt this way before. Never met anyone like you. Nor done the things we’ve done. Not ever. Not like that. You drive all reason from my mind. With you, I don’t think. I simply react. And it feels right. It feels good, like I can be who I truly am, the most natural, carnal part of me; and you do the same. You don’t overthink it. You just let yourself feel it, be overwhelmed by it, by
me
, by this
thing
between us, whatever
it
is.”

He took a small step closer, his chin over my shoulder and his sexy mouth mere inches from my ear.

“I know you’re scared, Eden, that, after however many years in your stale, loveless marriage, you don’t understand what you’re feeling. It frightens you. But it also excites you, doesn’t it? There’s a war raging inside you right now. Your sense of propriety insists you do the right thing, refuse to give in, acknowledge your desire, surrender to your fantasies. But you want to. That tight little body of yours screams for it. And that knot down deep inside, it pulses with need, eager and hungry for my touch. I bet, if I were to reach up under that long schoolmarm skirt right now, slip my fingers under those lacy little panties of yours, slice through that sweet, bare flesh, I’d find you wet, wouldn’t I, Eden? So fucking wet. Throbbing and dripping, just for me.

“Admit it. You want me to take you, to throw you down and fuck you from here to kingdom come then back again. You might say no, push me away, put up a fight, but that’s a lie, even if you refuse to acknowledge it. So I’ll make this easy. This…” he said, wagging his finger between us, “…whatever’s between us—it’s not over. This is what I want, Eden. I want you. You can’t stop that. You couldn’t the other night, and you can’t now.”

He hummed a quiet moan, aroused by his own lecherous words, and retreated a step, putting a safe distance between us, not that it did any good. Like he said, there was an urgent need pulsing deep inside me. I
was
wet.
So
fucking wet. I
was
throbbing, so hard I had to squeeze my thighs together. And, God help me—though I would surely say no, struggle against him, and fight with every ounce of energy I had—I
did
want him to push me down and take me. To fuck me hard from here to eternity.

I hated that he was right, that he
knew
he was right, and that he knew
I
knew he was right. My face burned with that knowledge, that he could see through me so easily, know what I was thinking, feeling, needing, wanting, before I could even figure it out for myself.

I couldn’t form a cohesive thought, let alone string two words together, to dispute his observations and quash any plans he had to pursue me. I tried and tried; I felt my mouth move, but nothing came out. And just like that, the moment was gone. He boldly put a single finger to my lips to halt even the attempt to deny him. Worried what Robbie might think, I looked over to see if he was watching, if he noticed his brother touch me so intimately, but the little boy was playing with a small toy in his lap, completely unaware of the familiarity between his brother and me.

Before Sean dropped his hand and walked back to the vehicle, he stroked the back of his fingers across my cheek and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. The look in his eyes shifted from unadulterated desire to something akin to pleading, as if he were begging me to abandon the fight and just give in.

And that’s when I smiled, small and sad, surprised he couldn’t see that, no matter how much I might want to, with the memory of my mother’s struggle and everything I had to lose, there was no way I ever could.

“What just happened?” I said to myself as I watched Sean pull away from the curb and drive off.

Sean. His name was Sean. I could barely wrap my head around that. I knew him as Daniel. I’d daydreamed and fantasized about him as Daniel. That excuse he’d given me about not wanting to share his father’s name, it felt…contrived, somehow. Illogical. I just didn’t know why.

I clenched my jaw and squared my shoulders, because, truthfully, it no longer mattered.
He
no longer mattered. If I had to occasionally see him at drop-off or pick-up time, so be it, but there would be no more conversations, no more touching, no more trying to convince me we belonged together. It might not have been all that random, but what happened the other night, it
was
a one-time hook-up.
One
time. There would be no more. I had way too much to lose.

I might not love Declan as a wife should, but he was a decent father to Ian, and an excellent provider. I couldn’t bear the thought that my actions might splinter us as a family. Ian was on the verge of adulthood, of attending college and commencing the rest of his life. I couldn’t risk disturbing that. But, if I was being honest with myself, there was more to it than just that. As important as Ian’s needs were, I had my own, as well.

Truth was, I didn’t want to lose everything just because Declan pulled the strings and paid all the bills. I wasn’t as strong as my mother, and I’d never been on my own. With Declan hiding our property in his corporation, and with all the conditions in our prenup, I’d be left with very little until I started receiving any royalties. And I had no doubt Declan would make my life as difficult as humanly possible, probably even keep Ian from me until he turned eighteen.

Then there was my school. It was a huge part my life. If he found out about Sean, not only could he take that away, he could also ruin my reputation forever by leaking sordid details about our brief affair to the parents of all my students. And he’d do it, too, to gain favor during a divorce. To win. He’d crucify me.

So, no matter how sexy Sean may be, no matter how incredible or fulfilling the sex was, or how exciting it felt to have such an intelligent young man so interested in me, it wasn’t worth the risk. I’d gone this long already; I could continue to live without. The finality of that decision weighed heavy as I trudged down the deserted hall, back to my office, as if in a trance. Depressed and anxious, I collapsed into the seat behind my desk and fingered all the files and paperwork sitting there, but, after only a couple minutes, my nerves proved too taut, and I couldn’t sit still or concentrate. So I stood and began to pace back and forth in front of the long window.

I stared out over the calm, blue waters of Meydenbauer Bay, across Lake Washington, toward Leschi and Madrona and the rest of the eastern Seattle shoreline. I knew they were there. I’d peered across the water at those neighborhoods a million times over the last fifteen years. But I couldn’t see them now, not with all the turmoil racing through my body, all the emotions swirling around my heart. The trepidation of seeing Sean again had invaded my soul and tugged at my core. I felt it pulsing between my thighs like a heavy drum.

“God, why can’t I get him out of my head?” I whimpered. I wasn’t used to all the carnal thoughts, the need, the want. I felt like a long dormant volcano suddenly resurrected back to life, and the shock of seeing him again so unexpectedly had sent me over the edge, like a cloud of hot ash during an explosive eruption.

“How is this possible?” I said aloud. “How did he find me?” I paused and stared blindly at the water. “Robbie,” I whispered. “They’re brothers, and Robbie’s been a student here for over a year. What are the chances?”

I resumed pacing, deep in thought. I had to make sure everything was on the up and up. Robbie’s family history would be in his records. His parents and any siblings would be listed. I returned to my desk and sat down, sliding out the keyboard and typing away to call up student records.

“Robert Danzig,” I mumbled as I tapped on the keys then hit enter. I scanned the monitor. “Here we go. Robert Louis Danzig. Nickname: Robbie. Parents: Will and Ariana Danzig, Residence: NE 14
^th
Place, Medina, Washington.”

My eyes grazed quickly over the rest of the information. They had no other children, but Ariana did have a child with her first husband, a son. Unfortunately, only his first name—Sean—was listed in the main part of the family history page, but anyone who had the responsibility of transporting one of our students had to have his or her full contact information on file. So I scrolled down the page until…

“There you are...” I said as I began to read through it. Then, “Wait. What? No way. No, no, no, no, no. This…this can’t be right. It
can’t
be.” I checked and rechecked the information. Dear God, it
was
correct. “What the hell! You’ve
got
to be kidding me!
Sean Bennett?
The guy from Twitter? Holy shit! Oh my God, he
is
stalking me! Oh my God.
Oh my God!
” I shrieked.

My heart began to race so fast, I grew lightheaded and out of breath. He
was
stalking me. He’d been following me somehow, tracking me. He probably knew everything about me, where I lived, my personal contact info, everything. Paranoid, I glanced around my private office, then around the main administrative office beyond my door. Everyone else had gone home for the day. Only one desk light glowed in the far corner. The rest of the office was growing dim in the waning afternoon. Cool fluorescent light radiated from the far end of the hall outside the main office. Was someone out there? Was he watching me even now? Every one of my senses went on heightened alert, and, over the loud thumping of my heart, I could’ve sworn I heard a noise.

I jumped up from my desk chair and took a few tentative steps toward my open office door. Once there, I poked my head out and scanned the empty space beyond, but saw no one. Then I heard the noise again. Louder this time. And closer. It was coming from out in the hall. I swallowed my fear and strode with a sense of confidence I didn’t actually possess, but I didn’t want to appear a coward. I made my way to the main office door, squared my shoulders, and bolstered my nerve before I peeked around the doorjamb and down into the long hall, toward the single burning light. And there he was, Mr. Banta, our elderly Filipino custodian. He was polishing the floor.

Relieved and with a hand to my heart, I watched the petite man as he maneuvered the buffing machine back and forth across the colorful vinyl tile. He made his way down the hall, almost dancing to the tunes playing through his noise-cancelling headphones, something he was proud of since receiving the extravagant birthday gift from his grandson. I couldn’t help but smile as his hips swayed from side to side and, every once in a while, he’d tap his toe, then a heel.