Crazy From the Heat (9 page)

“Touché,
Prof. Touché.” He settled in his desk and despite the slight glazed look in his
eyes, Grey knew he was trying hard to stay awake and even harder to
participate.

On
Tuesday it was the same, except Paul was late. He had a bandage on his upper
arm and the dark circles were even darker. He didn’t stay awake. And Grey
pretended not to notice.

Wednesday,
the text messages started before classes began and continued between classes.
Grey smiled every time he checked his phone.

Does
this mean you slept last night?
he texted back to
the overly cheerful morning greeting that told him exactly what Paul wanted to
do right now. He tried to keep his dick under control, but the thought of
Paul's mouth on him during class made Grey ache.

Like
a baby. My arm hurts like a bitch but I slept. Cutting second, want to cum in
the men’s room?

Oh
fuck. Yeah. Grey deleted that one quickly. And ignored the question.

What
did you do to your arm?
He was more than a little curious
but hadn’t had a chance to ask him since class the day before.

The
bell for second block rang and kids started filing in. The text chime came just
as the late bell rang. Grey took a moment and checked it.

I
was shot Monday night. Don’t freak, I wasn’t going to tell you. It just nicked
me but it burns and if it had been two inches up and to the left it would have
been my head. Will see you in two hours. Don’t freak out, it’s nothing.

But
Grey freaked out anyway. Especially when Paul dragged in looking pale and
tired. He immediately lifted his glasses and smiled just before he took his
seat. He was fine. Grey told himself that many times during class. He was
sitting there, smiling and talking and living. But he’d been shot, and he
didn’t seem to
care
that he’d been shot. Grey made it through class on
autopilot. He handed back a chapter quiz and an essay assignment at the end,
and when the last kid had filed out he found himself alone with Paul for the
first time in over a week.

“Hey,
Prof, can I ask you a question about my grade?”

“Sure,”
Grey said slowly as Paul walked to the door and closed it.

“Is
this room under surveillance?” Paul asked looking around the walls for
something.

“No.
They don’t have the budget for cameras in the classrooms.”

“Good.”
Paul turned the lock on the door and was in front of him before Grey could
catch his breath. “I just need to touch you. Just for a minute.”

Grey
leaned back against the wall and breathed him in. He knew it was wrong. He just
didn’t care. His hands raked Paul’s hair back, the sunglasses clattered to the
floor. He needed to know he was okay. He just needed to know. Paul’s lips
parted the very second Grey kissed him. A touch of tongue, and a groan, and he
didn’t want to come up for air. Soft, so soft, touch and kiss, tongue and
breathe. He wanted to inhale him. Keep him safe.

“You
were shot?” he said against Paul’s mouth.

“Flesh
wound,” Paul whispered moving against him until their bodies touched. Grey let
his hands fall to Paul’s shoulders and then to his back. He pulled him as close
as he could. “It’s been a long week. I’m so tired. Thanks for this.”

Long
arms circled him and pulled Grey tighter. It wasn’t sexual. Just contact after
a long period of nothing. And then Paul kissed him again and he forgot all
about non-sexual. He slid his hand along the tight t-shirt exploring the hard
body beneath the cotton until he found the object he was searching for. Paul
groaned against his mouth when Grey tugged lightly on the ring in his belly.
His erection rose above the loose band of his jeans, pushing the soft cotton of
his boxers a little higher against his belly. Grey ran his fingers downward to
pull the elastic band back just far enough to free him.

“Oh,
fuck,” Paul moaned letting his head fall back as Grey stroked the bared head
with his thumb. “That feels so fucking good.”

“Yes,
it does.” Grey dropped his lips to Paul’s neck and continued to stroke him.
“Want to suck you,” he whispered against his ear.

“Can’t.
Not here.” Paul rocked against him, allowing Grey to slip his hand inside his
boxers. “Shit, Grey, I’m going to come if you keep that up.”

Grey
laughed against his neck. He continued to stroke while Paul fucked into his
hand. Head back, mouth open, sexy sounds coming from his mouth.

The
static sound of the intercom system crackled and squealed overhead and Paul
jumped away just as the disembodied voice of the school secretary called out,
“Dr. Talbot, do you have Spencer Sullivan this block?”

“No
ma’am, this is my planning hour. Try Miss Hastings’ Economics class.” Grey
forced the words out hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt.

“Thank
you Dr. Talbot. Sorry for the interruption,” she said and the intercom system
went silent.

“Jesus,
at least it warns you.” Paul sat on the edge of Grey’s desk. His clothes were
still slightly twisted but he was covered. His chest rose and fell as he spoke.
“Damn, that was close. Another second and they would have heard…Goddamn.”

Grey
stayed pressed to the wall. His body trembled out of control. If he moved he’d
be all over the man sitting on his desk. It didn’t matter anymore, this trying
not to want this man.

“Yeah.”
He closed his eyes, hoping to still the erotic images running through his head.
Of him on his knees—

“Grey?”
He heard the breathless voice call his name. He still wouldn’t open his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I
don’t think I can fight this off too much longer.”

“Me
either.” Cole’s lilac eyes flashed in his memory and he startled off the wall.
Paul wasn’t Cole. So far he’d done nothing to hurt him. In fact it was just the
opposite. He’d come to his rescue twice now. “Come to my apartment tonight.”

Paul’s
face grew stormy. He straightened his clothes making sure to tuck his dick back
into his jeans.

“I
have to work.”

“When
do you sleep?” Grey moved to his desk and settled in his chair. His hands
trembled as he tried to keep from reaching for Paul’s hand.

“In
class mostly. After school at the shop. On my dinner break. In the car on the
drive over here and in the two or three blessed hours in the wee hours of
morning unless we stumble into something.”

“Like
you stumbled into something Monday night?”

It
was Paul’s turn to go still. His face paled. His eyes appearing overly bright.

“And
then I slept in the ER while they stitched up my arm.”

“You
could have been killed,” Grey said softly. He’d never had the thought of what
if before. But there it was.
What if something happened to you and no one
told me? Why does it matter now?

“I
could have been, yes, but I wasn’t.”

“You
shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t, we can’t. I can’t.”

Paul
moved off his desk at the words and was standing at the door his head hanging
low.

“I
know,” was all he said before he walked out.

Grey
found the sunglasses under his desk not long before he left for lunch. He
tucked them into his desk for safe keeping and went to the cafeteria.

Sarah
was there before him today. She seemed to be on edge and couldn’t wait for him
to open his lunch bag before she pounced.

“I
don’t want to report him but he cuts my class at least three times a week. He’s
a smart kid, Grey, and I hate to think he’s in trouble.”

Grey
didn’t need to ask who she was talking about, he could guess and Paul would be
the logical option. Except to acknowledge this knowledge wouldn’t be in his
best interest.

“What
kid?”

“The
new one. He’s in my fourth block economics class. But he doesn’t show up often.
I mark the roll but so far the office hasn’t checked. He’s one of those kids
that shows up for homeroom, and maybe the first couple of classes, and then
slinks off to God knows where.”

“So
report it. If he’s a punk kid, why are you protecting him?” Grey shrugged. He
could because he knew it didn’t matter in the long run. He was here to do a job
and getting in with the other punks was where that job took him.

“You
report him first. He’s in your third block.”

“And
he hasn’t missed a single day that I’ve been here, and last week the sub marked
him present. It’s on you Sarah. I can’t take the issue to the principal for
you.” If it were an ugly kid or a girl she wouldn’t hesitate. Grey had
suspected that from day one. Sarah had an agenda, but damned if he could figure
it out. She had favorites and didn’t hesitate to play them. It didn’t seem to
matter where the kid came from or what they did as far as he could tell. They
were usually male, but some female, all very attractive, some academic, others
athletic. Paul was a trouble maker with a reputation as a stoner, but for some
reason she wanted to protect him.

“And
why is that? I heard he gave the kids who wanted to give the sub a hard time, a
hard time last week. And he’ll cut second block. But then if I had to sit
through British Lit again, so would I.” She tapped her French manicured finger
on his sandwich wrapper her eyes blazed with curiosity.

“Hell
if I know, Sarah. He shows up for first block and then mine because it’s the
last one in the required time to count as present for the day. He’s a kid. It’s
not like he confides in me.” Grey didn’t like the course this conversation
seemed to be heading.

“I
was told he stayed late in your class and seemed upset when he left.” She
quirked her lips into a gotcha sort of a smirk. Or maybe Grey just imagined it.

“Because
he didn’t like the grade on an essay and I wouldn’t budge on it.” He lied
calmly and broke off a portion of the roast beef po’boy he’d saved from the
night before. “Look, either report him and let the office sort it out, or shut
up Sarah. I can’t do it for you. And frankly I’m wondering why you give a shit?
He’s just a punk kid killing time before he can hit the streets. More than one
walk through your classes every day and you don’t bat an eye.”

“I
thought you were the type to give a damn about your students?”

“I
give a damn about the ones who show up and work. If they don’t bother, then why
should I? I know that sounds callous but Sarah, you have thirty kids in that
class. I have forty in History. I don’t have time to hold each and every hand
and spoon feed them this stuff.” He'd never felt so low as he did right then.
Of course the kids meant something to him. But damn, he could only concentrate on
those that put in half an effort. The rest would sort it out for themselves
later in life.

“I
didn’t take you for someone so uncaring.”

And
that was the last straw.

“I’m
not uncaring, Sarah. I’m not a truant officer either. I teach the kids who show
up and that’s all I can do. I tutor the kids who ask. And I give extra credit
to those who need it.”

“But
you refused to give Paul a second chance on the essay.”

“Because
it was a B. Why should I give him a rewrite for a good grade? He likes history.
Not many do. He doesn’t seem to like economics or British Lit. I can’t make him
go to those classes, Sarah. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to eat lunch. I
need food in my stomach so the pain pills don’t make me sick.” He wished he
hadn’t said that last part. She looked at him finally her gaze going to the cut
on his cheek and then to the yellowish bruise that Cole had given him. He
didn’t like the look in her eyes.

“Oh,
poor Grey. I heard about it. You were mugged outside your apartment building.
Downtown is rough at night. Why don’t you move out to the complex where I live?
A gate keeps the crime rate way down, and we have a clubhouse with a spa and a
pool.” Her voice took on the tone that meant she was trying to seduce him. And
Grey just wasn’t in the mood.

His
pocket chose that moment to buzz. He pulled out his phone and saw the name
Gaines light up. Sarah did too.

Hey
sweetie how about I bring Italian from that place we both love over on Dauphin
when I come over tonight? Missed you honey. Want my snuggly wuggums to hold me
tight all night long.

Grey
had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Holy shit. He looked around the
cafeteria and found the blond head in question sitting near the door, a smirk
pulling at his lips. He typed back
Can’t wait love.

“You’re
seeing someone?” Sarah said softly. “I didn’t know.”

“I
have been for a while now, Sarah. I didn’t think I needed to share my personal
life.” Not that she would have taken the hint even if he had.

“Oh,
okay. I’m sorry that you were hurt. I’m glad you’ve had someone taking care of
you.” She squeezed his hand and gathered up her lunch tray and retreated.

That
looked intense. Did I help or make it worse?

She’s
getting ready to send your truant self in to the office for discipline.