Teach Me a Lesson (22 page)

He sat facing her. Charlotte saved her file, pushed the keyboard aside, and leaned her elbows on the desk. “Is that why you came? Because your parents looked at my website?”

“They’re both acting like total freaks. Always whispering, arguing really, then shutting up the moment one of us walks into the room.” She assumed he was including his half brother and sister.

“You realize your dad wouldn’t like you being here,” she felt obligated to say.

“He’s not my dad. He’s only my stepfather.” His voice held no inflection indicating how he felt about his stepfather. Perhaps it meant that they didn’t get along well.

“Regardless,” she said, “he’s expressly told the principal that you and I shouldn’t be talking. I’m sure he told you that, too.”

Eric tilted his chin defiantly. “I don’t see why. I’m fifteen and if I’m going to follow some prime directive from him, then I deserve to know why. Since he won’t tell me, I decided to ask you.”

A near irresistible urge to slump her shoulders threatened. It all seemed too complicated to explain. Yet she gave Eric as much of the truth as she could because he was correct, he deserved it. “Your stepfather doesn’t approve of my outside practice.”

“That’s because it’s sex therapy,” he said softly, looking at the top of her desk as if suddenly embarrassed.

She wanted to explain how what she did wasn’t about
sex
in the dirty way David Smith meant it, but that was entering dangerous territory. “I help couples. I help individuals. With a variety of issues. I deal in relationships. But your stepfather has a right to decide whether or not he wants me to be your guidance counselor. And he’s decided not to.”

Eric flared his nostrils mutinously. “But I’m not coming to you for guidance. I wanted to talk to you about Melody. I only want to help her. If I can’t talk to you, how am I supposed to do that?”

Her heart melted for the boy. He was sweet and caring. At his age, so many kids could be inner-directed, making everything about themselves. Even Melody. But all he cared about was helping her. Yet Charlotte was caught between his parents and the school system of which she was a part. She couldn’t go against a parent’s wishes without a damn good reason.

“I don’t see what the big deal is anyway?” Eric went on. “Why’s he so angry? Why’s he upsetting my mom about what you do outside of school? It’s not a crime or anything.”

A thread of tension tickled her belly. Eric made it sound like David Smith was suddenly on the warpath. And Lance had told her to stay away from the boy. Could the man actually be after her job? He
was
chairman of the school board. He could make her life very difficult. She loved working with kids. She didn’t want to give that up.

“Here’s my suggestion,” she said calmly. “Talk to Melody on your own.”

He made a disgusted sound in his throat. “I’ve tried that.”

“I have a feeling she might be a little more conducive to listening after all that’s gone on in the last couple of weeks.” She’d sensed a softening in Melody yesterday.

“But what do I say to her?”

“Just tell her how you feel. Tell her things you like about her. That you want to be her friend again. Because that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “What if she rejects me?”

Nobody liked to put themselves out there only to have their heart stomped. “I can’t guarantee she won’t. But you could remind her about the good times you had, the fun things you did together. You could say nothing has changed for you.” Charlotte shrugged. “Maybe she’ll tell you why things changed for her, and that’s at least a starting point.”

He sat silent for a long moment. He was a thoughtful boy—no, not a boy, a young man—and she had high hopes for him. And for Melody. He could be good for her.

Then he brightened. “All right, Miss Moore, I’ll give it one more try.”

“Good.” She hoped Melody would listen to him. Eric would actually do more good for Melody than Charlotte herself could accomplish.

As he rose to leave, she thought about suggesting that he keep their meeting secret. But she couldn’t do that. She could not, in all good conscience, involve a student in a lie.

If he told David Smith, so be it. She’d deal with the fallout.

18

LANCE STOOD ON HER DOORSTEP, ARMS AKIMBO, HANDS ON HIS
hips. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk to Eric Collins?”

That got Charlotte’s back up. “Well, hello to you, too.”

He hadn’t contacted her all day. He hadn’t even called to say he was coming over. He’d simply shown up uninvited. How did he even know Eric had been to see her this afternoon? It was eight o’clock on Friday night. What could have happened in the four hours since she’d seen Eric?

“Answer the question,” he snapped.

Okay, that was going too far. She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Eric came to my office. What did you expect me to do, throw him out?”

“Politely escorting him from the premises would have sufficed. Besides, how did he even know where your office is?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“No. I’m asking a question for which the answer confounds me. I was hoping you could clear it up.”

“If you stop yelling at me, maybe I could.”

“I’m not yelling,” he insisted.

It was dark, it was cold, and he wore a thick jacket and dark jeans. She was dressed only in an oversize sweater, black leggings, and silly fuzzy slippers, while the door was standing wide and letting out all her hard-earned heating. Yet she wasn’t sure she wanted to invite him in. “You’re being autocratic and a bit of an asshole. I’m only inviting you in because it’s cold out there and you’re wasting my heat.”

“Thank you.” Once inside, he closed the door behind him, then stood too close, towering over her.

She’d always liked his height, but now she wanted to step back. That, though, seemed like it would be giving him the advantage. “There, now, if you’ll remain calm, I’ll tell you that Eric overheard his parents talking and he saw them looking at my website. My office address is right there for all to see.”

“That’s a reasonable explanation.”

“Well, thank you very much,” she said sarcastically.

“I’m not angry with you,” he said flatly.

“Then why are you standing all tall and mighty and glowering at me?” She glowered right back, though with her height, it didn’t have the same effect.

“I’m simply pissed at Smith’s interference. This is my school, and it will be run my way. I am there every day, and I know what’s best for my students.”

That was pretty autocratic, and know-it-all, too. On the other hand, when the school board started getting into the minutiae of day-to-day procedure, it undermined a principal’s authority in the eyes of the student body and the parents.

“Look,” she said, “Eric came to me. I told him that his stepfather disapproved and that he had to leave.”

Lance raised one brow.

Good God, this was ridiculous. She sighed. “I felt compelled to explain about my practice, but we did
not
talk about any sexual aspect of what I do. I told him that the best he could do for Melody was to talk to her.” She tipped her head. “So what did Smith say?”

“He said you were counseling Eric in an offsite private office with no supervision whatsoever. After he’d expressly stated that you were not to talk with the boy.”

“It was five minutes,” she said, her tone edged with disgust. “It was definitely not counseling.” She hadn’t told Eric to keep it a secret. But why had he told his stepfather? He must have known it would cause trouble.

“Why can’t you just follow orders, Miss Moore? I told you not to talk to him. I’m taking care of things.”

He was tall, she was short, so she couldn’t very well get right up in his face, but she stood her ground before him, meeting him glare for glare. “Excuse me, but I’m the one coming under fire with Smith, not you. And it’s my job we’re talking about. You will not take care of things for me. I’ll do it myself.” But up to this point, everything she’d tried to do had only made the situation worse.

Lance clenched his back teeth as he spoke. “You need to be taught another lesson, Miss Moore, because you simply didn’t learn the first time.” He pointed. “Get in the bedroom. Right now.”

He was still glaring at her, yet the words completely threw her. They were the things he said to her when they assumed their roles. They were sexual. And they were hot.

“Now,” he whispered, catching her with the gleaming light of his gaze as he reached into his coat pocket for something.

Then she saw what he held: the silk handcuffs. And a coil of rope.

She was suddenly and inexplicably wet.

* * *

CHRIST, SHE MADE HIM HARD WHEN SHE GOT ALL FEISTY.

“Don’t test my patience, Miss Moore,” he said with a hard edge that promised retribution if she didn’t obey.

Her features softened, her eyes going wide, and a little pucker of a frown creased her forehead. “But we were talking about Eric.” Her tone hinted at bewilderment.

“We’re done talking about Eric. Move. Now.” His voice was dangerous enough to make her back up.

“But—”

“Your punishment will be worse with every second you delay.”

Finally realizing there was no alternative, she turned her back on him and flounced down the hall. He enjoyed the incongruous effect of the sexy, skin-tight leggings outlining her thighs versus the fuzzy blue slippers. What were they? The Cookie Monster? Or was it Barney? No, Barney was purple, the Cookie Monster was blue.

Removing his jacket, he tossed it over the back of a chair. Smith had called him over an hour ago. Eric had arrived home extremely late from school, late even for dinner, and when questioned—Lance imagined Smith strong-arming him with gestapo tactics—he’d admitted that he’d been to see Charlotte. Smith had been damn near frothing over the phone.

“I won’t have that woman corrupting my son, Hutton.” He’d gone on to say he’d even bring in the Wrights to help “shut that woman down.”

The man had stopped short of demanding Lance fire Charlotte. Which Lance had no intention of doing. She’d done nothing wrong, and he wouldn’t be bullied by Smith. He would stand by her, protect her. She was his. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use the incident as an excuse for a little punishment session. Damn, he was really getting into the role of master. He followed her into the bedroom.

She stood at the end of the bed, which was covered in a thick flowered comforter. Brass rails stood at the head and the foot. Good thing because he had plans for those rails. The room was done in shades of lavender, with white furniture, the drawers painted a contrasting pale lavender. The lampshade matched. The room was small, as they usually were in these old houses. The closet had only one door with a full-length mirror secured to it.

Her mouth was set in a mutinous line now. She’d obviously gotten over her shock at his abrupt switch from work to sex.

“Pull back the covers and get on the bed,” he directed.

“Make me.” She scowled. His jeans got tighter over the growing bulge of his cock.

Marching to the head of the bed, he laid the rope and silk cuffs on the side table. Then he grabbed the edge of the comforter, making sure to take the top sheet and blanket with it, and pulled the whole assembly down, bunching it at the bottom of the bed. Stomping back to her, he hauled her up and around, then tossed her into the center of the mattress. Landing on her back, she squealed. Before she could scurry away, Lance secured her wrist in his hand and dragged her to the edge of the bed closest to the side table.

She tried to wriggle free. “You bastard.”

He held tight. “You, Miss Moore, are incorrigible. You can’t follow directions. You don’t obey orders. The only choice is to tie you up and make you take whatever I dish out.”

Of course, he had a problem now. If he let go of her wrist, she’d roll away and run. But without releasing her, he couldn’t get the damn cuffs on.

She looked from him to the bedside table, reading his mind, and smiled wickedly. “Gotcha.”

“No such luck, Miss Moore.” He flopped down on top of her, surprising an
oomph
from her. “You have to remember that I always win.” The silk cuffs were in reach and within a few seconds he had her wrists secured.

She glared at him, her lips set in a grave line, and tried to buck him off.

“Oh baby, that only makes things so much better,” he whispered.

When she opened her mouth, presumably to hurl a few more insults or to scream, maybe even to bite him, he sealed his lips on hers. He drugged her with the kiss, taking her deep with his tongue until she fell still except for the slight rise of her head to meet his mouth. A moan vibrated in her throat.

He backed off. “You are so easy, Miss Moore.”

“Actually, I’ve got you right where I want you, Principal Hutton.” She gave him a haughty little smile. “You’ve stopped castigating me about Eric and now you’re going to make me come. Gee”—she flashed him toothy grin—“looks like I’m the one in charge.”

Hell, yes. She was. He was completely smitten. He’d do anything she wanted. If she said she wanted to tie him to the bed, he’d have handed her the rope and loved everything she did to him. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her that.

He flicked the neck of her sweater. “Is this an expensive outfit you can’t live without?”

She laughed. “It’s so old, half the nap has worn off. Since you failed to let me know you were coming, I didn’t have a chance to dress up for you.”

“Good.” He reached for the rope he’d brought with him. Already cut in lengths, he wound one of the pieces through the center of the silk cuffs between her wrists and secured it to the brass rail above her head.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“Will you untie me if I say yes?”

“Only if I think you’re telling the truth.”

“You’re not going to have any idea.”

He eyed her. She would never be any man’s submissive. She would always give her master hell. That’s why she was so perfect. He didn’t want a doormat. “In that case, I presume everything feels fine.”

He left her there, her wrists bound and tied to the headboard.