Page 2 of The Teacher of Nothing
“If you’d rather take your test to the office, I’m sure Mr. Erickson would love the company,” I grind out, my patience withering like a flower without sun. “That’s two, Mr. Paulson.”
His nostrils flare, but he gives me a clipped nod. I’m still glaring at him when warmth washes over me. I cut my eyes over to Willa just in time to see her wide dark green eyes fixated on me.
She immediately glances down at her paper and her skin colors to a soft pink. My unruly dick twitches. Is she embarrassed? Was she checking me out?
I try to ignore that line of thinking, but it won’t go away. A million thoughts tangle together in my mind.
How old is she?
Does she find me attractive?
Was she thinking about me inside her?
I’m out of control. A selfish fuckwit like my dad. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was supposed to be everything he’snot. The exact opposite. Yet, here I am lusting over a girl half my age and who’s still in high school.
There’s a special place in hell for men like us.
My phone buzzes, vibrating my desk.
“No phones allowed,” Levi mocks under his breath.
I’ve had enough of that dipshit today.
“Out,” I bark. “Take your things and go see Erickson. Now.”
Levi’s face burns crimson with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. I don’t care. He’s pissing me off, interrupting my class during a test—interrupting my favorite part of the day.
“Whatever,” he grumbles as he stands. “Peace out, losers.”
This earns him some nervous laughter from his buddies but is silenced when I stare each of them down. Levi storms down the aisle, bulldozing over backpacks and knocking into desks, making sure to display how pissed off he is about his marching orders. When he shoves Willa’s test off her desk, sending the stapled papers fluttering to the ground, I have to grip onto the arms of my chair to keep from charging after him.
Willa wilts and frowns at her papers on the floor. She presses her sexy lips together, stifling a groan of irritation. I sear my gaze into her, watching her body move as it slides out of her chair.
She’s not short, but she’s not tall either.
Average height, average build, average looks.
There’s nothing about her that should have me obsessing like I do. But I’m here, aching to bury my face in her dark brown hair so I can inhale her scent. I crave to cradle her soft jawline and taste her sweet lips.
I want her.
I just fucking want her.
With every cell in my body.
Today, like any other day, she’s wearing something plain. A fitted pair of jeans, a scuffed-up pair of black Converse, and agray knitted sweater. On any other person, it would make them blend in. On her, she somehow makes it sexy.
Someone fucking shoot me now.
Take me out of my misery.
As much as I want to strip this girl, bend her over her desk, and fuck her into tomorrow, I can’t. I refuse to. I absolutely won’t.
She quickly grabs the papers up and gathers them into her small hands. I expect her to sit back down, but her eyes have found me.
What is it that she sees?
Her perverted, evil teacher salivating over her every move?
