Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
He sits there in all that sexy silence. Then shows me the most heavenly smile. It’s sexy, sure, but not like lecherous. Not condescending. I tuck my hair behind my ears, then wind my fingers together in front of my lips lest they vomit out more awkward revelry.
“That’s a deep, broad, enticing subject.” His voice is liquid flame nipping at the gasoline that’s been spritzed over my skin. He reaches for my journal, taking it in one hand, the pen in the other.
He lowers his eyes as he slips the lid from the thick pen and starts writing on the first page. I count to ten. Twenty. Thirty.
How is he so calm about everything?
“What are you writing? About sex?”
He shakes his head, uncrossing his legs, laying the journal back on the table. “No. Just writing down my first assignment for you. Two questions. Make sure you answer them by our afternoon session tomorrow. After your morning chores and studies, we will meet here again and I’ll go over the rules.”
“I have chores? And studies? And rules?” I narrow my eyes, trying to get a read on him.
He meets my gaze steadily, his diamond black eyes unwavering. It feels like it lasts forever, like I’m more at home falling into his eyes than anywhere else in the world. “Chores and studies are important. Routine is important. Discipline is important. Don’t for one second think I’m expecting something of you that I do not expect of myself. I have chores and studies of my own.” His words might sound authoritarian, but he smiles. “But if you didn’t have chores and studies, what would you do with that time?”
I shrug. What else would I want to do? Right now, I’m not sure.
“Something to think on then,” he says kindly.
“It’s just… I’m not stupid,” I tell him. “Believe it or not, I was a straight-A student until…”
My voice trails off. Until my mom married Hoover, I want to say, but how do I say it without sounding like I’m shifting blame onto someone else for my own fuck ups?
“I believe it,” he says without any hint of sarcasm. “What’s your favorite subject?”
“Science. Chemistry.”
He tips his head with an upward tick in the corner of his lips, and he lets out a deep laugh that connects with parts of me I didn’t even know I had until I met him. “Mine too, Kitty. I teach chemistry and some of the other science classes here when we have students. Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll blow some shit up, how about that? In my chemistry lab, I mean.”
I stare, dumbfounded.
Did he just say blow some shit up? Like he’s some sexy action hero not a member of the Catholic clergy?
I find myself nodding before I’ve even formed an answer, and my panties take a hit.
Turned On By The Bad Boy Chemistry Headmaster: The Kitty Tennant Story.
“Yes,” I croak, my hand going to my throat as I try to remember how to breathe. So much has happened in the last 24 hours. My mouth is dry, my body tingling. I need a moment away. Away from him before I word vomit something I can’t take back. “Can I… I mean, may I use the restroom?”
Again, he stares at me, and I imagine him making me wait. Making me beg. Making me…
Oh, God. Please. This isn’t happening.
“Of course, Kitty.”
I’m up off my seat and out of the door so fast I don’t even remember crossing the room. As soon as I’m out in the corridor I gasp like I’ve just resurfaced after freediving, which would be ridiculous since I can’t swim and being under the water is my worst nightmare. I run a hand through my hair, tugging it back as I moan at the lasting image of him imprinted on my brain.
What. The. Heck. Is. Happening. To. Me?
I need to find some calm. I need to find some focus.
I need to find out who the hell I am right now.
CHAPTER 6
Kitty
When I get there, the restroom is freezing, but that’s a relief. I need my inner thermostat reset because I’m about to boil over.
I splash my face with some water, check myself in the mirror and steel my nerves to return.
When I walk out of the restroom, there he is and I think he’s taller. Definitely bigger.
“You left this,” Father Martin says, holding my phone out. My phone that is very clearly recording every word we said to each other. It dings with a message, and I can’t read it from here except that it’s from my friend Geri and I don’t want him to read anything she’d be sending me. “Testing, testing,” he says into the microphone with a smile like this is all a game.
Please kill me now.
I draw a deep breath and march forward, trying to act like there’s nothing wrong as I reach out for the phone. “Sorry, I was bursting. I forgot I even brought it.”