Try (Temptation Series) (46 page)

“Come on. If we hurry we’ll make it, we still have time.”

As I step forward, a breeze brushes my cheek, making the hair on my arms rise as though someone has stepped on my grave.

“No, Addy. I have no time,” he tells me, and tugs his hand from mine.

It only takes a second for our connection to be severe, and as I turn to him, I know he is right. His time has stopped. It’s not my grave that has been stepped on.

Before I can reach him, the flowers around us wilt, shrivel into the ground, and as he disappears, everything before me fades to black.

All I am left with is darkness, a car horn’s insistent blast, the counting of the crosswalk—and the ticking of a clock…

Present…

Tick, tick, tock—one. Tick, tick…

“Addison?”

Tock—two.

Pulled from one nightmare and thrust firmly into another, I try to focus on the balding man sitting across from me.
Jesus, I knew he was boring but this was the first time he’d put me to sleep.
I’ve known Doc ever since Daniel—well, for three years, and now he’s been brought here. To help me, save me—heal me.

Tick, tick, tock—three.

“Addison? I’m going to ask you again.”

He’s concerned. They’re all concerned by what happened, but it’s too late.

Tick, tick, tock—

“Remember, anything you say in here stays right here.”

One.

They think I’m sick, that I’m…damaged.

“When did you last see Grayson?”

I tell him nothing. I never will. 

“It’s okay to be open in here, Addison. No one is going to judge.”

That’s not true, I’m judging him.

“We just need to know. Where did you last see Grayson?”

Tickoneticktwotick
—“You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”—
fuck!

I hate interruptions. He knows that. Plus, I wouldn’t be sitting here if he didn’t think I should be ashamed.

“Okay, Addison.”

I wish he’d stop saying my name like that. It reminds me of…

“We’ll try this again tomorrow.”

And we will,
that
he’s not lying about. But I no longer care.
What do I have left?
Nothing. He is gone. I’m alone and all I can hear is
…tick, tick…

Chapter One

Past…

Tock.

I looked at the watch strapped to my wrist before turning my head to Brandon.

“Hurry,” I urged, as he pulled me down hard onto his lap. With a groan, I craned my neck back, gasping into the tight interior of my car.

“What the hell Addy? I just got inside you.”

Straddling his lap, I ceased grinding against him, and glared instead.

“Well if you hadn’t been late…” I started, but he cut me off by sitting up in the passenger seat and connecting his mouth to mine.

“Quit bitching would you?”

I pulled my head back, twisting my fingers painfully through his brown hair.

“Fuck! That hurts.”

“You know how I am about this kind of shit.”

“It’s the first day back. No one’s gonna care if you’re five minutes late.”

“I’ll care.”

With a rough flex of his hips, he shoved himself further inside of me.

I guess he was right…who was going to care if I was a little late on the first day? It’s not like anyone would say anything to me anyway. I was poor little Addy. Plus, I hadn’t had sex in months since my mother had planned my entire summer vacation, down to the very last detail.

Brandon grunted as he moved inside of me again. Class could wait, but quickly I glanced at my watch again anyway, nasty habit—
Tick, tick, tock—one.

~

I was late,
just what I needed on my first day of my senior year. Then again, it wasn’t like any of my teachers would mention it, they didn’t dare.

Peering at myself in the girl’s restroom mirror, I was careful to make sure my lip gloss was perfect. My hair was falling in soft mahogany waves that I had painstakingly curled that morning, and my clothes were all where they should be after my earlier activities.

Raising my chin, I studied the reflection staring back at me. Narrowing my eyes, I pouted my lips. Doc was always sprouting some shit about inner beauty being important, but once I heard a quote from Marilyn Monroe that said,
Boys think girls are like books. If the cover doesn't catch their eye they won't bother to read what's inside.
In my opinion, she had a much more accurate take on these kinds of things.
So as usual, I was careful to make sure that this cover was extra eye catching.

I peeked at my timekeeper, faithfully guarding me, and followed the second hand as it made its rounds. I wished it would hurry up and get to the twelve because then I’d feel right about leaving. Instead, I was held in place, in front of the mirror—by invisible chains.

Tick, tick, tock
—
two
.

~

First day on the job, and I already wanted out.

I scrawled my name across the chalkboard, like the responsible teacher I was expected to be. Unfortunately the smell of the chalk, and the scrape of it along the board did nothing to make me feel responsible, it just made me want to leave.

The clock hanging on the wall of my World History classroom was driving me crazy. I hadn’t been anywhere recently where I needed a clock or a watch, and the reminder that I was back on somebody else’s schedule was irritating as hell.

I’d just gotten back from six months of traveling across Europe—to now be restricted to four walls and a door made me irritable. The tie that I wore around my neck felt as though it was about to choke the life from me, and right then I would have welcomed it.

Not coming home hadn’t been an option. The minute I’d been told about my father’s deteriorating health, I knew I had to go to him. So thirteen hours and fifty minutes later, I was back home in Boulder, Colorado—a little over a month ago.

The suffocating stillness of the classroom was alleviated when the door to my right crashed open and the first student stepped into the empty space. Boy, girl. Boy, boy, girl. One after another they trickled in, and as the seats filled I remained in the far corner, leaning up against the wall with my legs crossed.

I always did this whenever I started a new class, especially at a new school. I observed. It was interesting to see how the students interacted before they knew I was watching. Before they put on a good show and behaved as they were expected to.

Talking, giggling, and flirting, the students on the first day were always excited to see one another and it was the perfect opportunity to catch them in that snapshot of their true selves. That moment of unobserved freedom.

As everyone took their seats and the second bell peeled through the halls, I pushed off the wall and moved to stand in front of the old wooden desk at the front of my classroom.

One by one, heads lifted and eyes found me waiting on them, and as they realized I had been standing there all along, they immediately settled. The talking subsided and slipped into whispers, and then finally,
silence
.

I remained steady and still for several minutes, until I had every last person’s attention. Then the door opened for the final time that morning and
she
stepped into my classroom. Late.

I looked at her—she looked at me.

My ending, staring right at me from the very beginning.

~

Stepping through the classroom door, I was shocked to be faced with a man, instead of Mrs. Ross, our regular History teacher.

This was a stranger. A stranger who knew nothing of one Addison Lancaster, and he was looking at me, with a scowl of annoyance plastered across his face.

That was the moment I first saw Mr. McKendrick.

He was the teacher that every girl dreamed about. The one we would
all
have a crush on by the end of the year.
Hell
, maybe even by the end of the class. With brown hair streaked gold by the sun, pulled back into a short, messy ponytail at the nape of his neck, he was unlike any teacher I’d ever seen before.

 “And who would you would be?”

That voice.
I swear it touched me—I was that affected.

“Miss?”

Blinking once, I pulled my mind back into focus and realized that for one brief moment, the ticking had stopped. My body had taken over my mind, which is something that
never
happened with me.

“Miss? I’m talking to you.”

Laughter erupted from the classroom and then it was back,
tick, tick, tick—three
. My new teacher turned to the students, their mouths shut and the room plunged back into a tense silence.

Wow
, that was some kind of authority right there. One glance from this man and my unruly classmates shut down and became respectful—and we weren’t even ten minutes into the period.

Again his eyes came back to mine and even as they conveyed his irritation, they also held something else. Something I instantly craved.

Like a lion, his eyes were fierce as he stared at me, appraised me. All men did, they couldn’t seem to help it. No matter how inappropriate they knew it was, I always drew their attention.

With my wide, bowed lips, innocent blue eyes, and a figure that belonged on a twentysomething, not a teen—I knew what I had and I was never afraid to use it. Unlike most men, whose eyes betrayed their interest, I pictured this one stalking me from across the room, and me allowing it.

“Miss? I asked you a question.”

I’d forgotten what he’d asked the minute I’d looked at him. I was too busy imagining his hands touching me, his mouth tasting me.

It took him four long strides to be close enough that I could see the stubble dotting his upper lip.

“You’re late,” he stated, his tone impenetrable as he opted for a different route, since it was obvious I was not going to answer him. “On your first day. Not a fantastic way to start the school year, would you say?”

Aiming a coy look at him from beneath my lashes, I finally found my voice and as usual, my runaway tongue got the better of me, assuring a firm place on his shit list.

“Maybe you could keep me after school, teach me to tell the time.”

“Since it’s the first day, I don’t think that will be necessary. But from now on be on time. Your name please.”

“Addison. Addison Lancaster.”

“Thank you. Now go and take a seat.”

Shrugging my bag further up on my shoulder, I spun on my toes, making my way down the second aisle toward the back, with a little more sway to my hips than usual. Glancing at Brandon, I noticed he looked up at me and winked, reminding me of exactly why I’d been late. Returning the sexy gesture, I owned the sensual smile I aimed his way as it spread across my mouth.
Taking my seat, I grinned at my friends and smirked at any others looking my way.

Flirting, to me, was like breathing to everyone else. The boys
and
the girls, they all adored me. With a laugh or a scowl, it was easy to see the way they were affected by my attention and I reveled in the power that afforded me. I strived for perfection and I liked seeing the results of my efforts.

As the school’s track champion I was their role model, their person to love—
and
their person to hate. I was important
because
I was their star. Everyone, including the teachers, knew me, and everyone loved me. Except for the man standing at the front of my World History class, he definitely did not love me yet, but I’d always liked a challenge. It was in my nature to win.

Slowly my bag slid down my shoulder and onto the floor. I crossed one leg over the other and returned my focus to the man whose eyes were moving methodically over each and every one of us, before finally coming back to rest on mine.

He studied me for a moment in a way that felt calculated before moving on to Kylie, who was seated in the aisle to my right. Just like that—I was dismissed.

“My name is Mr. McKendrick. I’m obviously going to be your World History teacher this year,
not
Mrs. Ross. I have very few rules, but one of them is to
be
on time,” he stated in a perfunctory tone as he paced across the front of the room. “The other is a little unorthodox. I want you to be curious…but respectful. Ask questions. Challenge one another. I want you looking outside the box, so to speak, because that is where you’ll find some of the most fascinating discoveries.”

Mr. McKendrick.

He was intriguing and
definitely
outside the box
.

I was without a doubt, fascinated.

~

She watched me from her seat—third row from the back, two aisles in—with eyes so blue I could see them from where I was seated. They locked on to me the second she settled, and she continued to scrutinize me.

As I stood at the front of the class, introducing the course and myself, I waited for my morals and drummed in ethics to assert themselves. To remind me that I wasn’t supposed to be affected by a student’s inspection. Thirty minutes later and I was still waiting.

I moved to sit behind my desk, watching the students quietly, but my eyes continued to be drawn back to the young lady who had shown up late.

She was positively captivating in a way that punched you right in the solar plexus. From her porcelain skin to the waves of chestnut hair that swayed against the curve of her high, full breasts—Addison Lancaster was more woman than girl, and she was dangerous.

The other males in the room knew it too, if the way they acted around her was any indication. They seemed caught on every lick of her plump red lips—
and yes, I had caught those too
.