Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Luci,” I croak, correcting him with my nickname.
“What’s that?” I know he’s looking directly at me, I can feel it, but all I do is stare at the floor, aching to see him face on again. I’m too scared to look up though, not with all the other people watching, fearing everyone will see right through me.
“Um, I go by Luci,” I say a little louder.
“Luci,” he sounds amused.
I start walking to the next seat in the row, since he seems to be going in order, but he stops me.
“Actually Luci,” I look up, finally getting to see his flawless face once more. “Up here,” his arm is extending, pointing to where he wants me.
Front and center.
Some start to snicker, and Chloe mumbles in my ear, sucks.
When my eyes leave the dreaded seat and finally find his, he’s smiling, beaming even, his chiseled jaw line stretching in a delicious way, and his pristine, pearly white, impeccable teeth almost glimmer. Nothing ever glimmers in the harsh, bland fluorescent light of the school. Yet here he is, radiating.
I bite my lip out of habit, as I make my way to the worst seat in the house, but for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I can’t help it but smile too.
Being in the front leaves me with no place else to stare except at Mr. Harrington.
I’m not complaining.
He's going on about filling out an index card he'll be passing out, but I'm too busy ogling to actually listen to the words themselves. His voice is arrogant as he talks, but his blue eyes light up in a gentle way. Even from a distance I can see their ocean color, so clear and mesmerizing.
I can’t help my eyes. They’re all over him. While he’s thin, he’s not skinny, and he definitely has muscles under that blazer of his. I close my eyes and imagine how firm his chest must be, and my breathing turns almost erratic. When I open them, I watch as he uses his hands as he instructs. I can’t help but flush crimson. They way they move, strong and firm, what would they be like on me, all over me?
Everywhere.
Ugh.
As a teenage girl, I’ve done pretty well when it comes to not thinking about sex… until now. It suddenly seems natural, as the man before me eludes it, even in his dorky Dockers and tweed jacket; there’s something savagely magnetic about him.
I can already tell this is going to be a major problem this year.
I know I should hate him because of who he is - a teacher. Not to mention one that put me in the front row, but my thoughts are far from anything as innocent as hating.
I start doing the math in my head, trying to figure out how old he is. So say he did four years of college, and then another two getting his masters… that has to make him what? 25? 26?
A deep throat clears, snapping me out of my stupor.
Oops.
I’m supposed to take the cards from Mr. Harrington, grab one, and pass the rest back.
I should have been more careful when taking them from him, but he startled me and I accidentally brush my thumb against his.
Tender.
I almost leap out of my seat, my pulse raging from the contact as an electric current runs from the very tip of my finger straight to my heart. I look up, wide-eyed once again, meeting his narrowed gaze. He makes a face before quickly stepping back and over to the next person.
He had to have felt that too, and when he looks my way once more before retreating to the platform, I just know he did.
I take my card and pass the rest to the guy behind me before placing my chin in my hand.
What the hell is wrong with me?
With his back turned as he writes on the board, the class begins to talk in low whispers. Chloe tries to get my attention, but I ignore her, my mouth too dry to say anything even if I wanted to.
Mr. Harrington’s arm extends, causing his jacket to lift and exposes the top part of his pants, revealing my newest fixation - his ass. I sink into my chair blushing. It gets worse when he briefly turns around and catches me red-faced. I immediately start looking around the room, which isn’t the smartest thing to do in front of a teacher, but he doesn’t say anything.
Seriously, I have to ask again, what the hell is wrong with me?
The next time I look up he’s already looking at me once again. He raises an eyebrow and the action renders me breathless. I absolutely detest what my body does next. It’s automatic, how I have to squeeze my legs together in order to stop the ache between them from completely igniting. Oh how that one look of his will haunt me into the late hours of the night.