But that was back when I just had a crush on him. This was very, very different, and the tingles that wouldn’t stop racing up and down my spine as I listened to him speak were very evident proof of that.
After we were dismissed, I said goodbye to Quinn and my other friends in my department and then headed back to my classroom to get my plans written on the board for the next day. I heard my door open just as I was writing the daily warm-up.
I glanced up and my eyes met those dark and mysterious ones that had become such a comfort to me over the past three days.
“Wonderful presentation, Mr. Drake,” I said.
He smirked. “Thank you, Ms. Thomas.”
“I’d love it if you could start calling me Ms. Freemont again. Get used to the maiden name again, you know?”
“Sounds great, Ms. Freemont.”
I smiled as I turned back to my board. I reached up toward the top of the board to continue writing, and I could feel his eyes on my ass. I tried to act like I couldn’t tell.
“What can I do for you?” I asked as I wrote.
“Just wanted to see if my roommate needed any help getting her shit.”
“Thanks, Jesse. You don’t have to do that.”
“I’ve got a truck, and you said you wanted to stop back when he wasn’t home. I can swing by with you if you want some help.”
I thought about it for all of a nanosecond. “Actually, I’d love some help. I don’t care about the big stuff for now; we can divide that later. I just want my clothes and shoes and that kind of stuff. I didn’t even realize that this was the shirt I’d packed until it was too late.”
“What’s wrong with the shirt?” he asked, smiling lasciviously at me as he allowed his eyes to travel down once again to my cleavage. I saw his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip and it was like a direct call straight to my vagina.
My hand went automatically to my throat. “It’s just lower cut than I usually wear to work,” I said, trying to block the view of my breasts begging for release from my shirt.
“I like it,” he whispered.
Did my classroom just get about ten thousand degrees hotter?
“You ready?” he asked, his eyes moving up to meet mine again.
Fuck yes I was ready, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about sex.
“Just about.”
Why did the sudden image of me sprawled across my desk with my skirt hiked up to my hips and my panties around my ankles and Jesse hovering over me just flash through my mind?
“I’ll wait,” he said, and I took a deep breath before I finished writing up what I needed to. I checked my email once more and set out my handouts for the following day before leading him out the door, flipping off the light switch, and locking up behind us.
We walked out to the parking lot, chatting about our days, and then he followed me to the house I shared with Richard, a place that I no longer considered “home.”
When we arrived, I was relieved to find that Richard wasn’t there.
I found some boxes in the garage along with my luggage, and we went to work. I changed into sweats, and when I met Jesse in the kitchen, he had taken off his tie and suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He took all of my clothes on hangers and put them in the backseat of his truck while I packed my delicates and socks and t-shirts into my suitcase. Every time he came in, I had something else for him to bring out to the cars.
I went to work on my jewelry, placing it in a box gently without really looking at any of it. Then I packed up everything in my bathroom by tossing it all into a box, all of the old lotions and body washes and hair sprays and curling irons. I’d go through it later; I just wanted to get it the hell out of the house.
We headed to the office next, and he helped me pack up my books. This was not an easy task; I was an English teacher, which meant I had quite the collection of books – both for school and for my own reading pleasure.
I blushed when he found my not-so-secret stash of romance novels.
“Figures you’d be a closet romantic,” he said with a grin.
I (predictably) blushed and said with mock exasperation, “Just shut up and pack.”
I only had one more thing that I really wanted to bring, and it was a cedar chest. It had been my grandmother’s, and it was the one keepsake I had of her. She’d kept her mementos in it, and I didn’t keep anything in it except the wonderful memories I had of her.
Richard hadn’t liked it, so he made me store it in the garage. My grandma had painted it white, and it was distressed with age and wear. It was just a really cool looking piece of antique furniture. I had always loved it for its beauty and its meaning to me, and I was taking it with me.