Page 9 of Teacher's Pet

His smile was tight, unreadable, as he stepped inside. He folded his arms and leaned against the rail, but it felt deliberate, like he was taking up just enough space that I had to shift.

He was… very attractive. Too attractive for this party school.

Was he a student? Maybe working on his PhD?

I stole glances while pretending not to, his Oxford-white button-up crisp against his shoulders, black slacks hanging just right. He looked polished, sophisticated. Like he belonged somewhere else entirely.

His face,God. I’d let him wreck me in the sheets. Chiseled jaw, clean-shaven, with a mouth that begged to be kissed. He bit his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the elevator doors, shadows cutting across his cheekbones. Sinfully hot.

He stood close enough that I caught his scent. Pine. Woodsmoke. Something steady.

It made me hyper-aware of the rainwater and cheap Axe clinging to me.

His voice broke through my thoughts, smooth and warm, as he spoke into his phone.

“Yes, darling. I’ll be home soon.”

His voice was calm and silky, but I deflated anyway.

Taken.

Or straight.

Fuck, most likely both.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I gripped the railing.

Devon again. I suppressed a groan as his text flashed across my screen.

Devon:

If you only wanted to use me as a glorified dildo, just say that.

But Quinn? Leo? Jesus, Ry.

My stomach dropped. That sharp bite of indignation crawled under my skin.

Did he find out about…? How?

I tightened my grip on the phone, thinking of how to respond without showing exactly how much his little messages were ruining my mood.

Fuck Devon.

Fuck Quinn too. Did he tell Devon?

“Can you press the top button?” The man’s voice interrupted me.

“I already did,” I said, keeping my eyes on the screen as Devon’s typing bubble appeared.

Devon:

Real classy…I thought we were exclusive? Were you drunk?

Rage simmered low in my chest. My fingers moved faster than my thoughts.

“The button isn’t lit,” the man said. There was an edge to his voice. “So you didn’t press it.”

“Then press it yourself! What—are your fingers broken?” The words snapped out before I could stop them.