Page 25 of Until We Meet Again

Since that moment, we've avoided all communication. I've caught a glimpse of her in class, but I've resisted the temptation to devour her with my eyes, afraid of succumbing to every primal urge and untamed craving I have about her.

Although I can't stop thinking about her, we're doing an excellent job of ignoring what happened between us in this fucked-up world of right girl, wrong time.

Students begin arriving with just five minutes left before the start of the lesson, and thenI see her—Tessa—amongthe sea of faces.

She walks in with a confident stride, her presence demanding my attention as if I were under her command. She's dressed in a tight black sweater that clings to her every curve, with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. It gives her an image of sophistication, but in reality, I want to strip her of any elegance and pull on that long blonde hair as I fuck the life and breath out of her.

I follow her every move as she walks through the room and sits in her usual seat, my mouth watering at the sight of her legs crossing over each other.

You need to be present as their teacher, not the guy who wants to repeatedly fuck his student until she can no longer stand.

"I have a task for you all, and I'd like it completed by the end of the week." The air is filled with grumbling. "Guys, this is purely for my benefit. It'll have no effect on your grades, but I think it might help me get to know you all better." Sitting at my desk, I rest my elbows on it and say, "I want you to write a piece of poetry about an experience you've had that you feel comfortable sharing—anything that will show me who you are outside these four walls."

Suddenly, I hear Tessa call out, "What if I don't have anything to write about?" I'm not sure if she's trying to get a rise out of me or if she's genuinely putting her thoughts out there, but I'm not in the mood for her attitude today."I'd rather spend my time doing something that's relevant to what we're learning."

"I'm sorry, Miss Walsh, but this week I want you to focus on what I've asked. You can write about something you're passionate about—something raw, something true." To anyone else, Tessa's smile would look like sunshine, but I see the truth—I see the storm raging in her eyes. "I'm sure there's something that sets your mind on fire." She doesn't push back, and I return my attention to the rest of the class. "Is there anyone here whodoesn't have something they're passionate about?" I scan the room, observing the faces staring back at me before continuing. "It can be anything you want. It can be about a friendship, a hobby, a favorite book, or a relationship. You can write about a memory or something you're currently going through. The options are endless."

"What about sex?"

I almost hurt myself by spinning my head in Ashlee Johnson's direction. I'm uncomfortable with how she looks at me, as if I'm something she wants. Her eyes pierce mine, and the smirks on people's faces suggest they see what I do. "As I said, Miss Johnson, it can be about anything you want."

I settle into my chair, surrounded by the sound of studentswriting down the assignment I've given them. But my mind is elsewhere. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, unlocking it and shooting off a message to Tessa without a second thought.

Z: Wait behind after class. We need to talk.

When I look up at her, sheshakes her head, challenging me, and she receives a second and final message.

Z: I wasn't asking.

Almost an hour later, everyone has left the room except for her and me, and she walks to the front of the class.

"What do you want, Professor?"

You spread out on my desk, begging me for my tongue.

Just hearing her call me "Professor" makes my cock throb, and the need to nail her to the wall with nothing more than my tongue dominates every other thought in my mind.

I make my way to the door, double-checking that it's tightly shut, then position myself in front of her. I'm pissed, and I have no intention of hiding it.

"I need to talk to you about your fuckingattitude."

"Excuse me?" She gasps, her eyes widening with shock.

"Get your shit together and forget everything except that I'm your teacher right now, okay? I've read Professor Whitaker's notes on you and seen some of your work, Tessa. You have a lot of potential." I can feel her softening as I continue to speak. "You said you might want to be a teacher someday, right?"

"Yeah. One day."

"Why? What makes you want to teach?"

"I like the idea of helping kids reach for the stars."

"Exactly, Tessa. You’re no longer a kid but a young woman. I still want to support you in reaching your goals, but I have to be able to carry out my role as your teacher."

As she stands looking around the room, anywhere but at me, I can almost hear her thoughts echoing throughout the classroom. "Do you realize how much I used to love this class?" she asks.

Her gaze locks with mine, and I'm lost in the sea of green hues reflecting in her eyes, making me feel a million different emotions—none of which I fully understand.

"Do I do things so differently that you hate it that much?" I speak softly, hoping she'll open up and work with me rather than against me.

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