Page 28 of What Happens In Vegas: Jessa & Jaxon
“Tell me about your leadership philosophy,” I prompt, slipping into interview mode. “What kind of leader would you be as Vice Principal?”
She straightens, switching into a more professional posture that fascinates me. It’s like watching her put on armor.
“I believe educational leadership should be collaborative and student-centered,” she begins, her voice taking on a confident cadence. “Administrators should support teachers so they can do their best work, which ultimately benefits students. I’d focus on open communication, evidence-based decision making, and creating a culture where everyone feels valued and heard.”
I nod, impressed. She doesn’t half-ass anything. Not work, not arguments, not even avoiding me when she wants to. And that’s why I know she’s going to get this job—because no one could do it better than her.
“Good. Now give me a specific example of how you’ve demonstrated that philosophy in your current role.”
As she launches into an example about restructuring her department’s curriculum approach, I watch her come alive. Her hands gesture expressively, her eyes bright with passion for her work. It’s captivating.
“What?” she asks, breaking off mid-sentence when she notices my focused stare.
I lean back in my chair, watching her with undisguised appreciation. “Nothing,” I say. “I like watching you when you’re in control. It’s... attractive.”
JJ clears her throat, shuffling papers unnecessarily. “Focus, Jaxon. You’re supposed to be helping me prepare, not... whatever that look is.”
“What look?” I ask innocently, though we both know exactly what look I’m giving her.
“The one that says you’re thinking about taking off my clothes instead of asking interview questions.”
I don’t bother with denying it. “I can multitask. Next question.”
Jessa
“Scenario,” Jaxon says, movingfrom across the table to sit beside me. “A parent is upset about their child’s grade and demands you override the teacher’s assessment. How do you respond?”
We’ve been at this for nearly an hour, him asking increasingly challenging questions while I respond with growing confidence. He seems genuinely impressed by my answers, though his attention occasionally wanders to my lips.
I cross my legs, hyper-conscious of his proximity, but determined to maintain my professional composure.
“I’d listen to the parent’s concerns,” I begin, “then explain our grading policies and the teacher’s autonomy in their classroom. I’d offer to facilitate a conversation between the parent and teacher, but make it clear that I support my staff’s professional judgment unless there’s evidence of a serious error or unfairness.
“Good,” he murmurs, his hand moving up my leg under the table. “Very diplomatic.”
I swallow a moan when his fingers trace maddening patterns on my thigh, but I don’t move away. His touch sends electricity through me, even through the fabric of my leggings.
“Are you trying to distract me, Mr. Jamison?”
“Not at all, Vice Principal Jamison,” he counters as his fingers make contact with my sex. “I’m testing your ability to maintain focus under pressure. Critical skill in administration.”
“Jamison is your name, not mine,” I correct him automatically. “And if this is your idea of interview preparation, your HR department must have quite the file on you.”
“Smith for now,” he states with certainty, not withdrawing his touch. His eyes hold mine with unwavering confidence. “And I maintain strict professional boundaries in business. It’s one of the reasons I’m successful. I can separate personal from professional.”
I open my mouth to fire back a response, but his fingers press just right, stealing my breath.
“Tell me, JJ,” he says, his voice a low purr, “would you like me to stop? Or should I keep testing your... composure?”
“I’m perfectly capable of maintaining composure under any circumstance,” I challenge. I straighten my posture and meet his gaze directly. “Continue with the next question. Unless you’re concerned with my ability to answer coherently despite your... techniques. In which case, perhaps you’re the one lacking in your abilities.
His hand slides higher, slipping beneath the hem of my sweater to find the bare skin of my stomach. The touch is so intimate, so deliberately provocative that I must fight to keep my breathing steady.
“What innovations would you bring to the school’s professional development program?”
I manage to answer, drawing on my prepared notes about collaborative learning communities and peer observation cycles.My voice remains admirably steady even as his fingers drift tantalizingly along my nipples.
It’s only when he leans in to press a kiss to the sensitive spot below my ear that my response falls apart.
