Hot fucking damn. Jaime Followhill had some moves.

“Anyone can see us,” I muttered into another dirty-hot kiss. The space between us was already charged with sex, reeking of juices we barely kept hidden behind thin clothing. I was soaked and ready, and he’d released those male hormones that make teenage guys’ rooms smell like jizz and sweat. Only on him, the smell was pretty magical.

“You’re covered by me,” he murmured into my neck, nipping my skin with his teeth and moving south. His tongue sliced through the valley of my swollen breasts like an arrow.

“Not true.” My face was now on display for anyone to see.

“Meet you at your place in an hour.”

“You don’t know where I live.” I hungrily skimmed my hands over his iron chest.

Jaime pulled away and gave me one of his mischievous grins.

Jesus. He was a stalker, too? I had to admit, I found it hot as hell. One of the sexiest guys at school…stalked me. Why did I have to be a teacher? Shit like that never happened when I was a student.

“No.” My voice was resolute. With every second his lips weren’t on mine, the fog of a building orgasm faded, making way for logic.

Hello, logic. You killjoy, you.

“Ms. Greene…” His forehead and nose were crushed against mine. We both panted, eye to eye, chest to chest. “You’re about eight minutes too late to walk out of this arrangement. This…” His hand ducked under my dress hem and up between my thighs, and a finger traveled along my wet slit through my plain cotton underwear (no lace today), stroking not pushing, in a torturous tease. “Is mine until school ends. I will eat it, fuck it, play with it, and sleep in it if I want to. And I want to. I wanna do all those things to you.”

What horrified me the most about Jaime’s statement was that I knew he was going to get his way. I had agreed to it before I’d even walked into detention today. He had too much power over me, and not only because of his social status. I’d always been aware of his beauty and powerful presence, but up until now, I used them to resent him. Now that they were offered to me, all bets were off.

“We’re going to be exclusive. If I catch you spreading those toned legs for anyone else, he’s gonna regret he was born with a dick.”

Oh yeah? Was he going to resist all the temptation that was swarming around him like bad BO at Coachella?

As if reading my mind, he added, “My cock will only have two homes. Your mouth and your pussy. Ass, too, if you’re feeling adventurous.”

Mother of God.

“Detention’s over. Take your stuff and leave,” I gritted, taking one step back and then another.

He followed me and dipped his head, biting my neck before straightening and snapping his fingers. “Get in your car and drive home. I’ll join you soon.” He smacked my ass, turned around, and left, leaving a whiff of his singularly masculine scent.

I stood there, mouth agape, his taste still on my lips, the tingling of his touch still between my thighs as I rolled one thought around in my head: Oh, Melody, you are so fucked.

Luckily for me, I was about to get fucked even harder.

I DIDN’T GO HOME.

Going home would be admitting defeat. I might technically have let Jaime take the blame for the car, but I hadn’t initiated anything sexual with him. That was all on him.

What made my decision even easier was bumping into his mother on my way out.

I was headed to the parking lot when I spotted Principal Followhill watching me through her office window. I stabbed the entry remote, hysteria controlling my movements as I considered making a dash for my car when her icy voice seeped from the open window.

“Ms. Greene. A word?”

There was a soundless moment when I saw my life flash in front of me, and sadly, it was a short, shitty movie consisting of me sprawled out on my old couch watching American Ninja Warrior, showing up to family events dateless, and attending a weekly support group for former athletes (most of us were in various stages of drunkenness).

Ya know, fun times.

If Principal Followhill knew what had happened in detention, she was going to remove every internal organ in my body, restuff it with dynamite, and blow up the whole school. That’s how much she hated me.

“Sure.” I smiled big, throwing my arms in a why-not gesture and walking back toward All Saints.

Why not? Because she wants to kill you and because you just made out with her teenage son.

The minute I entered her office, I knew she was onto something. Her usually smooth Botoxed forehead looked like it had collapsed into a heap of extra skin.

“Sit.”

I did.

“Ms. Greene, do you know why you’re here?”

I was so nervous I couldn’t breathe but somehow managed to shake my head no. Her office alone scared the shit out of me. It was so big, yet suffocating, with its heavy furniture of cherry-stained wood and burgundy leather and its ox-blood walls, everything a deep red, like Carrie had paid a visit there on prom night and lost.

Principal Followhill stood near a painting that probably cost more than my rent, her arms behind her back, and closed her eyes, exhaling. “The incident with my son, James.”

Oh no. Please, no. I wasn’t ready to die. I had so many things to see and experience. Most of them between the sheets with her barely-legal son, but still.

Jokes aside—I was pretty sure I peed myself a little. I was terrified. Not of getting fired, but of the consequences of pissing off someone with Principal Followhill’s clout. My parents taught in the school district adjacent to Todos Santos. This was their home, and they were a vital part of this small, judgmental community.

I was about to screw my family because of a brief kiss.

“Principal Followhill, I can explain,” I rushed to say, jumping up from my seat.

She launched in my direction and shoved me back into the chair. If I wasn’t so consumed with guilt, I would’ve been floored that she touched me.

She held up her hand, her face pale. “No, you listen to me. James is a brat. Don’t you think I know that? What he did to your car… he should have left a note after he hit you, not driven away. It looks bad, but he simply panicked. He explained it all to me. No need to file a police report. I assure you he’s very, very sorry, and he’s going back to the student-parking lot from now on. I’ll write you a check for your repairs, and I’ll, of course, compensate you for the inconvenience as well. I’ll be damned if I’ll allow one reckless decision to tarnish my son’s reputation.” She reached for her Hermès bag and plucked out a checkbook.

My eyes followed her movements like she was performing some trick of dark magic. Of course, I was a problem. She wanted it fixed, so she threw money at it. At me.

She didn’t know about the kiss. All she knew was that Jaime came back home yesterday with a banged-up Range Rover and his own version of what happened in the parking lot. He’d kept his side of our deal.

“This little car mishap is not to leave these walls. Do you understand, Ms. Greene?” Principal Followhill bent down and scribbled on the check, her mouth twitching in annoyance. “You have a mouth, in case you didn’t notice. You could use it and say something.”

Why do you hate me? I wanted to scream. What have I done to you? Though I already knew the answer. She hated me because I wasn’t royalty. I wasn’t someone who was born and bred in Todos Santos. I was an outsider, contaminated and mortal, with middle-class parents. On top of that, I was a weak link who—because of my above-mentioned disadvantages—couldn’t control my classes.

“Understood,” I sniffed.

She fingered the check she’d written for me. Despite my best intentions, I plucked it from between her French-manicured nails and peeked. Ten K. Way, way more than necessary. Bribe.

We were all corrupted now. It made me a little less remorseful about making out with her son.

Jaime was blackmailing me.

And I was blackmailing his mother.

My parents always said money made people twisted and immoral. I used to think they were exaggerating. I was starting to believe that they weren’t.

I stood up, smoothing my dress and jutting out my chin. Principal Followhill held my gaze but tugged at her ear. Nervous. Desperate. Clueless.

“All is forgotten?” Her lips barely moved.

“All is forgotten.” I nodded, walking out of her office $10,000 richer.

I drove straight to a local bar.

After all, I had some money to burn. And dirty little secrets to forget.

I WOBBLED BACK TO MY apartment building at midnight, my breath stinking of Bud Light and stale peanuts. Trying to fish for my keys, I halted in front of my door in the darkened hallway, rummaging through my loaded handbag. When I finally felt the sharp edge of the key, I jerked out my Pointe shoe keychain and it clunked to the floor. Blowing a lock of my hair from my face in frustration, I sighed. It was going to be a bitch to retrieve. I was getting too old to get tanked.

But I didn’t even have to bend down.

Because someone else picked my keys up for me. From behind.

My heart throbbed faster, yet I stilled, feeling the warmth of another body pressing against mine. The air pulsated with the vitality of an impending fantasy that was about to be fulfilled.

Fear and lust filled my veins with adrenaline and dopamine. The overlapping feelings made me heady, excited and aroused.

Crap. I couldn’t resist him in my current state. His erection dug into my ass, and I swallowed.

I watched his hand unlocking my door from behind. His warm lips whispered into my ear. “Get in and get naked.” It was an order.

The door flung open with a little push from his hand. I wanted to cry in excitement. Correction: I did actually cry in excitement. There were tears of joy in my eyes. What can I say? Booze and eighteen-year-old jocks who are hung like a horse made this girl hella happy.

I practically skipped into my living room/kitchen, which was decorated with brown boxes and my old couch. I had to move to hell-knows-where next month and was already starting to pack. Seeing my life crumbling, stuffed into half-filled cardboard containers, only made my decision to have sex with my student easier. It wasn’t like I was ruining anything substantial I’d built. I was a loser, practically homeless and soon-to-be unemployed. An outcast. Jaime took the edge off of the reality of my future.