Veiled Innocence (7 page)

Finding my mother in the bleachers again, she gave the perfunctory wave. I smiled like the good daughter I was, but my eyes were on the man who was waving at the woman beside me.

As Miss Shrieve returned the gesture, she looked back to me with a smile left over from him, and I had a huge desire to scratch it right off her face.

“Okay, you can do this.”

I waited for her to take a step back behind the start up blocks, where she could time me. I walked into position and sized up the other girls I’d be competing against.

Competition didn’t seem so tough, and as the announcer started to call out our school affiliations, I placed my hands on my waist and started to bounce from foot to foot in a small, flirty dance that loosened my hips and would hopefully lengthen my stride.

As my hair swished back and forth with my little jig, I heard Brandon and the other boys wolf-whistling and calling out my name from the sidelines.

I knew they loved it when I did this. It had become something of an event in itself, and Brandon had once told me it was the sexiest shit he’d ever seen.

I made sure to look up at Mr. McKendrick as I did it for the final time, and his eye, I was pleased to find, was pressed to the viewfinder with the lens directed my way.

He was watching me, and I was about to give him the show of a lifetime.

* * *

How the fuck could any red-blooded man look away from that?
I thought as Addison—lane four, with school-colored ribbons in her hair—danced up and down from toe to toe.

It would be bad enough if that was all she was doing, but add in the outfit, one pair of short shorts, a tank top that molded to every curve she had, and that sassy smirk she was definitely aiming my way, and yes—I was fucked. With a capital fucking F.

Coming here tonight had been a terrible idea, and now that I was seated in the bleachers tempted by my own personal version of Eve, I knew, if offered, I’d be biting that fucking apple.

Who was I kidding? She’d already offered. All I had to do was bite.

When Addison had waved in my direction, at first I’d thought she was waving at me. Until the woman seated below me raised an arm and her—
mother,
I assumed—waved back.

There I was, thinking about how Addison’s long, lean legs would feel wrapped around my waist, while her mother was here to watch her daughter race.

In my mind, there were only two places for people with thoughts like mine.

Prison or the fiery pits of hell.

Still, I zoomed in on the flirty girl through my camera, and I couldn’t find it in me to care.

Not one little bit.

* * *

With my feet in the starting blocks, I focused on the 100-meter lane ahead of me and blocked out everything else. All of the surrounding noise ceased, and I listened, instead, to the constants.

Tick, tick, tock—
my watch—
Tick, tick, tock.

Tickticktick
—BANG!

The gunshot ricocheted through the track, signaling go time—and I was off.

Quick as a flash, I was up and sprinting toward the first jump while keeping count in my mind, knowing that was essential for this race.

One, two, three—jump.
First one down.

Thundering toward the next, I felt confident. I knew how easy I made this seem.

One, two three—jump.
Second one down.

Yes!
This was what I lived for. I could feel the air hitting my cheeks as I powered on.

One, two, three—jump.
Third one down, and I was making this bitch mine.

Nothing felt this good or made me feel so free. As I leaped over the next four, I realized I was over halfway through and by my estimation, nine seconds down the track.

One, two, three—jump.
Eight down, two to go.

I loved the feeling of the air rushing in and out, fueling my body as my limbs strived for perfection.

One, two, three—jump.
Nine was done, and I had one more.

One more, and I would be the winner. One more, and I would be the best. One more, and…
one, two, three—jump.

Ten! I was done!

As I slowed my run to a jog and placed my hands on my hips, I pivoted toward the bleachers. There was my mother, perfecting the act of good parenting by standing and clapping. I gave a brisk wave and then I saw
him
step to the side and knew he’d done it so he could see me.

The announcer came over the loudspeaker confirming what I already knew. “The winner...lane four...Addison Lancaster, with a personal best of fifteen seconds.”

Yes
. I had run my personal best, and now I wanted my prize.

* * *

She’d been magnificent. Like a cheetah sprinting into action, Addison had taken off at the starting gun and in fifteen seconds, had torn up the track as if her life depended on it.

I had forgotten all about the photos and was unable to resist getting to my feet when everyone else did. The crowd began chanting her name because
she
was unbelievable. It was clear she was the star of the school and when she finished that race, it was obvious why.

Her mother looked around proudly as Addison crossed the finish line, and when she spotted me, checked me out before jumping to her feet, clapping and waving.

That had been the minute I realized I needed to leave.

I was looking at Addison, and her mother was looking at me. What I was thinking, it was wrong. It was a violation on all levels, and just being there and imagining Addison in such a way made me feel…
guilty
.

As soon as I was able to get around everyone, I moved out onto the steps with my eyes still on the winner at the end of the track. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, Brandon and Sam caught my eye and waved at me.

“Pretty fucking amazing, isn’t she?”

I couldn’t bring myself to disagree, so I just nodded before making my way into the school.

It was just turning five thirty and I figured I might as well get the class’s papers to take home and grade. I needed a distraction to take my mind off its current fixation.

Entering my classroom, I collected up the papers, switched the light back off and made my way out into the hall. I was halfway to the exit when Addison came around the corner and stopped.

I knew that she’d come for me, and if I hadn’t been sure, the look her face clued me in real fucking fast.

“Congratulations on your win,” I told her, determined not to let her unnerve me. I was the adult here, not her. I just had to remember that and act like one.

Walking toward her, I was happy to see she had at least added her sports jacket back to the ensemble. Unfortunately, she’d left off the track pants and was still only wearing those short fucking shorts.

“Thanks. I was surprised to see you in the stands.” She paused as she walked closer. “Did you come to see me?”

I brought the papers up against my chest and held them there. It was a pathetic excuse for a shield, but anything was better than nothing.

“I didn’t come to see you specifically, no. I came to take photographs of the event and support the school.”

“But now you’re leaving after only one race?”

Refusing to let her walk all over me, I nodded. “Well, I remembered I had papers to grade.”

With a knowing look, she bit her bottom lip, and when her top teeth sunk into the pillowy flesh, my cock came to rigid attention.

“Or maybe you already saw what you wanted to see?”

“Addison.”

“Yes?”

“I have told you before, this isn’t going to happen.”

“No? What if you don’t touch? There’s nothing wrong with…watching, is there?”

My mind raced with the possibilities. She brushed past me so our shoulders met, and I could smell the sweet, sugary body spray she must have used after her race.

She smelled sinful.

I turned as she looked over her shoulder at me and walked into my…no,
our
history classroom.

Closing my eyes, I counted backwards from ten.

This was a bad idea. A really fucking bad idea, but as I made my way back to the classroom door, I knew that I was about to bite the apple.

Chapter Seven

The minute he stepped into the room, I knew I had him. He quietly shut and locked the door before walking over behind his desk.

I’d chosen to sit in the first row, middle seat, as opposed to my usual because from here he’d be able to see and hear me that much better.

One, two, three.

He placed the papers down, then pushed all ten of his fingers on the wooden surface so hard they turned white.

“Doesn’t your mother need to know where you are?” he asked, and I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my mouth.

“I told her I was waiting on Brandon so we could all go out and celebrate.”

Pinning me with an annoyed frown, he accused, “So you lied?”

“Maybe a little. Would you prefer me to call and tell her what I’m really doing?”

He rubbed two of his fingers up the center of his forehead, appearing stressed. “Addison, this cannot happen.”

Now things were getting interesting.

One, two three.

“You keep saying that.
What
exactly is it that can’t happen?”

I couldn’t help the thrill I got at his discomfort.

“You know what I’m talking about. Stop acting naive. It doesn’t suit you.”

I raised a brow and laughed at the blunt way he called me out. “Okay.”

“You have to stop coming on to me. Do you understand how much trouble we would be in if—”

“If?” I pushed when he stopped talking and started shaking his head.

“I’m not allowed to touch you, so stop inviting me to.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

Unflinchingly, he replied, “You know that it is.”

“Why don’t you sit down?”

“Because I plan to leave.”

“Really? I’m pretty sure you locked the door.”

“Addison,” he said, not in warning this time but more in resignation.

“What’s your first name?”

“Oh
no
,” he drawled, and for the first time since we’d met, he laughed, and the sound tickled its way up my spine. “I’m not telling you that.”

“Well, I can find out by searching the school’s web page at home.”

One, two, three.

“Then why haven’t you?”

Trying for nonchalant, I shrugged. “I wanted you to tell me.”

“Why?” he asked, just as I knew he would.

“Because it’ll mean more.”

“It’s not appropriate for me to tell you, especially since you won’t be using it.”

I lowered my eyes and then peeked at him flirtatiously from beneath my lashes. “But it would be nice to know whose name to call when I touch myself at night.”

“
Jesus
.”

“What?” I questioned as I spread my thighs apart under the desk. “It’s the truth.”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t say things like that to me.”

“But I can to others?”

He pulled his seat out and sat down. “No. You shouldn’t say it to anyone.”

“Why? Am I supposed to act ashamed that I like to touch myself? I do, you know, but I promised myself that my next orgasm would be with you, so…wanna help me out?”

His gaze dropped below the desk, and the moment he noticed my legs parted, he brought his eyes back to mine. This time, they were a dark gold and much more volatile—less patient.

“I’m not talking about
this
with you.”

“Oh, please. Don’t try and tell me you don’t think about me.”

“Stop. It. Addison,” he growled, and the sound of my name reverberating from his throat made my pussy clench in response.

“Don’t worry, Mr. M. Can I call you that? It’s much easier. I don’t want you to touch me. I can do that all on my own. Just watch—watch me.”

I pushed my chair away from the desk and leaned back into the seat, lowering my hand down between my thighs. Pressing my fingers against the outside of my shorts, I noticed his eyes skid down to see what I was doing.

“Stop it.”

“Make me,” I challenged.

His voice was barely audible as he admitted, “I can’t.”

* * *

I couldn’t make her because I didn’t
want
her to stop.

If anyone could have seen what was going on, it was obvious to me that they would have labeled me a monster and her a victim. However, as I sat there, fighting every instinct to go to her, I really had to wonder which role fit whom in this scenario.

I consciously knew this was
not
supposed to happen. I was supposed to be the one to walk away, but how do you keep saying no in the face of such temptation? If this was a test, was I about to fail?

Addison’s smooth legs were spread wide under the desk. Her hand was eagerly massaging between them as she watched me. I remained frozen, fixated on the scene like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Tell me what to do,” she invited.

Was she kidding? This was the most demented thing I’d ever done. I wasn’t going to compound the situation by giving her instructions to take her pants off so I could see more.

“Tell me,” she demanded again as her fingers moved up and slid—
oh fuck
—inside her school shorts.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to erase the image as I fought my body’s natural instinct. My cock was as hard as a fucking rock as I sat there imagining what she was touching. The only sound I could hear was the—
tick, tick, tock
—of the fucking wall clock. It felt as though it was keeping time with my heart as it pounded inside my chest.

“Mr. M?”

At the breathy sound of her voice, I lifted my head and saw that she’d unzipped her jacket and was focused on me with lustful eyes.