Veiled Innocence

Chapter Twelve

Past…

I drove Addison home that night in complete silence. I didn’t know what to say. What the hell had I been thinking, touching her?

Now here it was, Monday morning, and I was standing in my classroom waiting for the fucking police to drag me away. Well, I’d been waiting for that all weekend if I was honest with myself.

The bell had just rung, and I was staring up at the clock on the wall, the loud—tick, tick, tock—reminding me of Addison as it signaled the day had begun.

The door slammed opened, jarring me from my thoughts. In walked Brandon, closely followed by the woman…no, the girl I’d had my fingers inside of this past weekend.

She glanced my way, and I could feel the heat rising up under the collar of my shirt. This was fucking insanity. I was going to either have an anxiety attack or a heart attack if she came any closer.

Luckily, Addison seemed to understand that was not going to help in this situation. Instead, she followed her boyfriend down to where they usually sat.

I gripped my tie and loosened it, hoping it would help me breathe easier, but it didn’t help at all. All I kept hearing was—I thought about them inside me. Fucking me—and all I could see was my whole world spinning out of control.

One night. One hasty decision, and I’d gone to her—just as she’d asked.

What else would I have done had she asked?

Trying to pull myself together, I made my way to the door and closed it after the final student meandered inside. It gave me the perfect excuse to stop looking at her. To cease my inspection of the navy blue skirt she was wearing and the stretchy white tank top that didn’t hide anything from curious or, in my case, greedy eyes.

Her legs, those long, lean legs that had propelled her over the hurdles just last Friday, were now crossed under her desk—and I hated that all I could think about was getting back between them.

I couldn’t stop watching him. I was trying my best to listen to Brandon, but all I could concentrate on was Grayson. He was wearing jeans that reminded me of the ones he’d worn Saturday night...

God, just thinking about that night made me hot. The way he’d kissed me and the way his fingers had moved inside me. I still couldn’t believe it’d really happened, but I knew it had. I could tell by the way he was acting.

It wasn’t obvious in the sense that he was ogling me. In fact, it was just the opposite. He wouldn’t look at me at all, and when I did catch him, he always turned away.

When I replayed that night, I kept coming back to the same conclusion—with Grayson, my mind was at peace. What I’d started to believe was madness had disappeared.

“Okay, guys, let’s open your books to chapter five,” he told the class from behind his desk.

“Last week, I told you we would be starting the term with King Henry’s wives, and we read about Catherine of Aragon. Funny thing is, what most people remember about their marriage is that King Henry divorced her.”

“What a great way to go down in history,” Jessica spoke up from the seat in front of me.

“Better than being the one whose head he chopped off.”

My voice cut through the room and Jessica swiveled in her chair to face me, along with the rest of the class and Mr. McKendrick—I suppose that’s who he was in here.

“Whose head did he chop off?” Jessica asked, horrified.

I didn’t move other than to raise my eyes to my teacher.

“Anne Boleyn’s.”

Jessica spun back around to face the front of the room, as did the rest of the class.

“It’s true,” he confirmed. “He pursued Anne Boleyn relentlessly. At first, he was with her sister, Mary—”

“You mean he was screwing her,” Brandon joked as his friend gave him a high five. “Hell yeah.”

Agreeing with the boys, Mr. McKendrick gave a slight nod of his head. “Yes, I guess you would be right. He was sleeping with her. She was his mistress.”

“I doubt he was doing much sleeping,” Sam piped up.

“Okay, settle down, would you? This isn’t personal health class.”

Unable to help myself, I decided to speak up. “It could be.”

As my teacher’s eyes found mine, he disagreed. “No, it couldn’t. That’s next month, and I’m sure it won’t be with me.”

He wasn’t wrong. Usually the class was taught by Miss Shrieve. If I had my way, though, it would be much sooner than that. It would be a one-on-one class, and he’d be giving me a very private lesson.

Moving along so I wouldn’t fixate on the way Addison’s eyes were undressing me, I went back to the subject.

“So, let’s get back on track. King Henry was married to Catherine when he started an affair with Mary Boleyn, Catherine’s lady-in-waiting.”

“Jerk.”

“Ass.”

Refusing to be sidetracked, I ignored the comments and continued. “He, however, was drawn to, and became completely enamored with, her sister, Anne.”

“Because she refused him.”

Addison’s voice reached me from the back of the room, but I avoided eye contact.

“Yes, at first. The king was quite persistent, though, and pursued her anyway. Some believe he did this because of Catherine’s inability to produce an heir, and the king, desperate to have a son, sought out a young woman of childbearing years. But many believe he chased Anne because she resisted his attempts, thus provoking the king into doing everything in his power to annul his marriage to Catherine. It was that act that served as one of the contributing factors leading up to the English Reformation.”

The classroom was completely silent until Jessica asked, “So, why’d he chop off her head?”

I laughed. Of course it’s the illicit details that captures the attention. It always is.

“Well, that’s what we’re going to learn. It’s believed that while Anne’s intelligence and independence are what made her so attractive to the king in the first place, it was ultimately her downfall. She refused to be the woman behind the man and play the submissive role expected of her. Her spirited nature was intoxicating as a secret lover, but as a wife to a king? Her outspoken ways were frowned upon and eventually led to her”—stopping for dramatic effect, I drew my index finger across my throat—“execution.”

The students began chattering as I moved back to the board and wrote, Ambition, adultery, and accusations. In the end, do you believe that Anne Boleyn got what she deserved?

I placed the chalk down on the tray and faced the class. “Well, come on, what are you waiting for? Get writing. We’ll be meeting at the library tomorrow for further research, but for now use what you have.”

As the students opened their books, I pulled my chair out and sat. I grabbed my own textbook and studied the photograph of Anne Boleyn.

King Henry may have initially wanted her, but it was her own ambition that had gotten her everything she desired. Her seduction of him, now made legendary, was one that was forbidden and eventually deadly.

Looking up, our eyes collided.

Addison wasn’t unlike Anne.

She was young, beautiful, and ambitious, and ever since I’d met her, she’d gone after exactly what she wanted.

It just so happened to be me.

Present…

“You know, you use to talk to me, Addison. When did that change?”

I look at the man sitting beside me on the stone bench. He asked me to meet him outside by the fountain today.

The sun is shining through the trees surrounding the facility, and I can hear birds in the distance. Angling my face toward the sun, I bask in the rays as it warms me. It feels like years instead of days since I’ve been outside.

Subconsciously, I reach down to the watch strapped to my left wrist. I can’t hear it, but I know it’s—tick, tick, ticking—its way around the face.

“When you stopped listening.” My voice is steady. It’s emotionless.

“Is that what I did?”

Opening my eyes, I face Doc. I can tell he’s waiting for me to say more, and for the first time—I want to tell him.

I want to tell him that everyone stopped listening.

Instead, I feel a tear, the first in weeks, as it escapes my eye and trails down over my cheek.

“Addison?”

I wipe it away and look back to the trees.

“Addison, tell me.”

Tell him what?

That there is no one to care how I feel now that he is gone?

No one cares that my dreams will never come true, not the way I want them to.

He’d calmed me when no one else could.

He’d saved me from myself.

If only they knew the truth…

But no one is listening, and his time is already up.

Tick, tick, tock.

Past…

My first three classes passed by, and as soon as the lunch bell rang, I was making my way back through the halls hoping to catch Mr—Grayson—before he left for lunch. I practically jogged toward the door at the very end. It was closed.

I stood in front of it and took a deep breath before reaching out to turn the handle.

Pushing it open, I stepped inside the room I’d been seated in earlier and saw him. He was standing at the back of the class pushing one of the chairs under its table when his eyes found mine, and he straightened.

“Addison, you shouldn’t be in here.”

He moved to the next chair and corrected it.

“I needed to see you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

I looked at the clock on the wall and noticed the second hand was moving, but instead of following it, I found I could turn away. “Yes, I did.”

“Was there something you needed to discuss?” he asked, stopping where he was.

I dropped my bag on the floor and locked the door behind me.

“Unlock the door, Addison.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“And I want you to unlock the door.”

He strode up the aisle and was in front of me before I knew it. He grabbed my arm and led me to the far corner of the room before releasing me.

“This is not the place.”

“Then where is?”

“Not here.” His agitation was evident as he paced the floor.

“I want to see you again,” I told him. “I want you to see me.”

“Trust me, I do see you,” he stressed. “You’re all I fucking see, Addison. When I close my eyes, when I open them, when I’m teaching. You’re. There. All. The. Fucking. Time.” He rubbed his face. “Sometimes I wish I’d never seen you.”

My pulse began to hammer, and I whispered, “But you did, didn’t you?”

Grayson placed a hand on the bookshelf I was backed up against and shifted until his foot was between both of mine. I said nothing when his fingers stroked over my naked thigh, and when he flirted with the edge of my skirt, I barely managed to breathe.

He raised his leg slightly, and his hand slipped under the fabric to cup my bare ass. As his fingers dug into my flesh, he growled low in his throat, and I had to bite my lip to keep my moan inside.

“I see you,” he answered, his words strained. “I see you, and I want to lift your skirt just like this. That’s why you wore it, isn’t it? To drive me fucking crazy.”

My eyes closed as he pulled my hips forward.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded.

Obeying, I watched him shift and felt the denim of his jeans abrade the inside of my bare legs. I could feel every pulsing throb of my body, and all I wanted to do was rub against his strong thigh. He leaned in close and licked his top lip, and I was immediately reminded of his mouth on mine.

“Tell me where I can meet you,” I pleaded.

“What for?”

I rolled my hips against the ridged muscle under me. He tightened his fingers on my ass, the tips brushing the satin strip of my thong, and yanked my hips closer.

“Oh, God,” I moaned.

“What for, Addison?” he asked again. “Why do you want to meet me?”

I grabbed ahold of his wrist and ground down on his thigh. The only sounds in the classroom were his and my heavy breathing as I continued to use his leg to get myself off. I wanted to come, and I knew I was close.

“I want to see you naked.”

My words couldn’t have been a shock to him, but when Grayson lowered his head and admitted, “I want to see you too,” I almost lost my mind.

I attempted to kiss him, but he pulled his mouth away from me.

“No, not here. Use me.”

I pushed my breasts out and pressed myself against his thigh.

Fine, no kissing. I could do that. The arm around me tensed, holding me in place, and I used him—just as he had told me to.

The friction and heat between Addison’s legs was penetrating my jeans. I could feel her fingers squeezing my wrist as her thighs tightened around my own. Her tight, round ass in my hand clenched every time she rocked her hips up my leg. The noises leaving her throat had me so fucking hard, I was positive my cock would be damaged if I didn’t do something soon.

She was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, and as she greedily took her pleasure, I couldn’t find it in me to regret what we were doing. I knew it was wrong, but with each blissful sigh from her lips, my control slipped that much further from my grasp.

“You’re hard,” she whispered, and I couldn’t help my smirk.

“Yes. I’m very fucking hard.”

“I want to see,” she boldly stated.

No one could accuse Addison Lancaster of not going after what she wanted.

“Well, we don’t always get what we want.”

She licked her juicy lips, and the look on her face would have brought a saint to his knees.

I was only human.

“I’m going to have you,” she promised, and the words sent a thrill down my spine.

Promise or threat? Either way, the words made me want to lift her up against the wall and shove my cock inside her. But not here, not now.

Pulling my hand away from the shelf, I gripped her hair and arched her neck back.

My lips hovered over hers. “You are going to ruin me.”

That was when she did the unexpected.

She placed her palm over my heart and tapped—One, two, three. One, two, three—before whispering, “You’re going to save me.”

All rational thought halted.

“This afternoon,” I heard myself say.

“Yes,” she panted, squirming against my leg.

“This afternoon, follow me home like you always do.”

The incorrigible minx had the audacity to smile, so I tightened my fingers in her hair and shoved my thigh higher against her.

“Fuck,” she whimpered and clutched the arm I had around her. “Yes. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” I agreed before releasing my grip on her hair.

I smoothed her skirt down and took a step back. Her eyes narrowed on me, and the annoyed flush that hit her cheeks made it impossible not to think about fucking her into next week.

“What are you doing?”

Sliding my hands into my jeans, I pushed the material around, trying to make them slightly more comfortable for the aching hard-on I had trapped inside.

“Waiting, and so are you.”

“But…” she sputtered.

“Yes?”

“You’re going to leave me like this?”

Oh, this is interesting—Miss Perfect has a temper.

“Well I’m like this, so it’s only fair. Don’t you think?”

Her eyes shifted to the erection I had no hope of hiding and then flew back up to my face. “Well, I could…”

“Not. Here,” I reiterated through clenched teeth.

I stepped forward, and she retreated until her back hit the bookshelf again. This time, however, there was no touching.

“Maybe next time when I tell you to do something, you will listen.”

Her mouth pinched into a grimace.

“So this was all some kind of fucked up lesson? Well, thank you, Mr. McKendrick.”

I checked her out in a way that let her know it was much more than a lesson, but I was not going to be convinced to act any further on it. Not right now.

“No, it wasn’t, Miss Lancaster,” I disagreed and made my way to where her bag had been dumped on the floor.

I picked it up and held it out to her as she marched over to retrieve it. I made sure not to give in to the amusement I was feeling when she snatched it from my fingers and went to unlock the door.

Before she yanked it open, I slapped my palm against the wood and held it shut.

“This afternoon. My place. Be there, and I’ll teach you the rest of the lesson.”

“Oh yeah?” she snapped at me. “And what’s that?”

Her anger didn’t leave her as her eyes wandered over me. When they came back to rest on my face, they were a stormy grey—from which emotion I couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could have stopped me.

“I’ll teach you how to come with a man inside you.” I removed my hand from the door and released the lock. “Not a boy, Addison, a man. Now go.”

Her eyes widened in shock before she walked out the door, and I had to wonder—how would I go down in history.