See Me After Class (Steamy Teacher Romances #1)

by Meghan Quinn

disturbing my class. Mind keeping it down?” His eyes flash to mine, and I add, “If you’re going to partake in frivolous field trips, please move your group along rather than staying in the hallway.” His eyes sharpen. “We’re not going on a field trip. There’s a dead animal in my classroom.” “Are you sure it isn’t your lecture dying in there?” His lips flatten. “Cute.” “Dead animal, huh? Did you kill it with your boring teaching techniques?” I tsk and shake my head. “Death by English teacher, it’s a real threat in your classroom. Saw some support groups for your students being posted out on the bulletin boards. Might have been an animal today, tomorrow . . . who knows who’s next?” “Are you done?” he asks, deadpan. “Believe so.” I smile, all too happy with myself. “Then I suggest you get back to work.” “You’re not my boss,” I snap-whisper at him. “I’m head of the department, which means I have a say in who works here.”

“You want to know what I really think?” “Yes, please. I want you to be real.” “Real. Fine.” His eyes grow darker. “Those dresses you wear are my undoing. The skirts, well, they’re a bonus. I envision peeling them off you over my desk after class. Your eyes—they’re unlike any color I’ve ever seen, caramel-colored with a hint of green on the outer ring. Enticing, curious. They bother me but intrigue me at the same time, making it hard not to give you the privilege of being looked in the eyes. And your perfume . . . it’s dizzying, mystifying, causes me to lose my frame of mind and puts me in a headspace of lust. Demanding lust.”

“Why not? Admit it, Arlo, you want to fuck me.” “Of course I want to fuck you. I’ve wanted to fuck you since your interview. Your beauty has no bounds, Greer.” I wet my lips. “Then why won’t you? Is it against school policy?” “No.” “Do you already have a fuck buddy?” He shifts. “No.” “Are you a virgin?” His eyes narrow. I chuckle and smooth my hand over his chest. “Just making sure. So, what’s the hold up? Does my teaching technique really trouble you that much?” “No.” “Are you—” “I have other things I need to focus on,” he says, cutting me off before I can guess again. “Important things. I can’t afford the distraction.” “What important things?” I ask, feeling my eyebrows pull together.

“Oh God, I’m not wearing pants.” “Nope,” I answer, bringing my glass to my lips. “You just saw my ass.” “Correct.” “You were just staring at my ass.” “You can keep saying it in different ways but it’s not going to change the fact that, yes, I saw your bare ass.” “Well, this is embarrassing.” “Only if you make it.” With one hand, I grip the counter behind me, keeping myself from reaching out and pulling her in close so I can smooth my hand over her perfect rear end. “Right.”

“I’m serious, Arlo. Don’t you have a salad to eat?” His eyes practically turn black when he says, “I’d rather eat you.”