"I'm tying you to the bed when I get home tonight, Paradise," I growl, gripping her ass in my hands and grinding my dick against her because I can't help myself. "You've got me hurting for you, baby."
"Okay," she whispers, her voice almost dreamlike.
I chuckle and kiss her again, sweeter this time.
"What was that for?" she whispers, swaying on her feet when I back off.
"For you, little owl," I murmur, pressing my lips to her forehead. "Because you're you and you make me so fucking happy. It should be illegal to be as cute as you are when you're happy."
"That's your fault," she says, making me smile.
Her smile turns to a grumble when I pop the door of the truck open to help her inside.
"You need a smaller truck," she complains when I have to lift her into the cab. Even with the step rails, she had to struggle to get in at the school because she's so short. There's not a chance in hell I'm getting higher rails or a smaller truck though. Any excuse to pick her up is a good excuse in my book.
I buckle her in, which makes her grumble at me again. Once she's settled, I close her door and then pause when I feel the weight of someone's stare on me. I turn, scanning the parking lot of the small deli. It's full of cars. Two women are talking beside an SUV on the far side, but I don't see anyone else.
Shrugging the feeling off, I jog around to the driver's side and climb in to find Rowan fucking with the controls for the radio, completely unrepentant. Apparently, my music sucks. I don't know what she has against Tupac, but I think he's pretty fucking great.
"If that's Justin Bieber, I'm spanking you tonight before I tie you up."
"Justin Bieber? Gross," she says, her nose crinkling. And then she fidgets in her seat like she's changed her mind. She reaches for the controls again, giggling. "I know there's a Bieber station on here somewhere," she mutters, making me throw my head back and laugh loudly.
God, I love her.
"Miss Winters?" I blink when I step inside Leslie Holland's office to find Lana Winters seated behind Leslie's desk instead of Leslie. "Where's Leslie?"
"Hi, Dr. Thorne." Lana smiles at me, twisting back and forth in the chair. "Aunt Leslie stepped out to use the restroom. She should be back in a minute. How are you today?"
"Aunt Leslie?" I arch a brow, surprised. I knew Leslie had nieces, but I didn't know Lana was one of them. Leslie never mentioned it. Neither did Lana. "I wasn't aware the two of you were related."
"We're not…exactly." Lana laughs, reaching up to touch her curls. "My mom used to be one of her students. She babysat me during the summers when I was younger so my mom could work. I've always called her Aunt Leslie."
I smile, not really surprised. Leslie has a heart as big as Rowan's and a tendency to make lifelong friends of her students. It's part of what makes her such a great advocate for kids. She never stops teaching, never stops stepping up to help when it's needed. It's one of the reasons I admire her as much as I do. She's pretty bad ass.
"I'm guessing you're the reason she called me here?" I ask, leaning back against the wall beside a bookcase. If she's here to file a complaint against Johnson, she may just become my second favorite teacher at Commodore.
"Not exactly." Lana's face scrunches up. "Well, maybe. I'm not sure. I just…I remember what you said at lunch the other day, and I thought you should know–"
The door behind me flies open, distracting Lana. Leslie comes sweeping in like a General. Her gaze lands on me.
"Good. You're here," she says, closing the door behind her. She heads toward the desk, waving her hand in the air in an impatient gesture. "You two already know each other, so we'll skip the polite necessities and get right down to it. Lana, tell him what happened."
"Yes, ma'am," Lana says, affection in her gaze as Leslie does a little bulldozing of her own. She hops up, letting Leslie reclaim her seat. She opts to stand beside the desk. Like Rowan, she's short. With her curly blonde hair and heart-shaped face, she looks almost elvish, mischievous. Rowan really likes her.
"Well, out with it, girl," Leslie says, impatient.
"Like I was saying, I remember what you said the other day about bullies. We all kind of figure you were talking about Principal Johnson, but he's been here forever. He wasn't always so bad, but I guess his wife died about six years ago and he started focusing all his time on the school. Anyway, people still feel a little bad for him, so no one really wanted to say anything. But, um…well, I'm sure you already know that he's a bit difficult."
"He's a tyrant," I mutter, not beating around the bush. I empathize with him for the loss of his wife, but it doesn't excuse his behavior. There is no justification for being a boorish dick. "But there's not a whole lot we can do about it unless there are actual complaints."
"Right," Lana says, grimacing. "But, um…what if he were doing something unethical?"
I cock my head to the side, my curiosity more than piqued now. "Unethical?"
Lana clams up, fidgeting again.
"She has reason to believe he's tampering with test scores," Leslie says bluntly.
Hope dies a quick death.